Okay here we go, I thought I'd give this a go and start writing, I begin my next creative course in October and I haven't written other than work stuff for a couple of years now. I thought this might be a good warm up and quite a nice way for my family and interested friends to laugh at my latest madness...!
It really is silly, I work full time, live in a modern house in a large village, I go nuts if there is clutter or mess, and I like things neat and tidy, even my garden.
Now I'm getting closer to the point, next Tuesday 9th June, I am expecting delivery of my shiny new Eglu Cube and 3 hybrid hens! Madness, they will poo everywhere, wreck my lawn, and bring chaos to my home. Yes, hens I said, furry, clucking, shitting, pecking, dust bathing hens!
Maybe that is what I need, or want? Who knows? All I know is I am so excited, it seems a little adventure, something new, and different (although I am discovering - not so different, apparently I'm just jumping on the latest urban garden bandwagon?) and fun.
I fight a constant battle to get my daughter out from the TV or computer, to be outside, in the garden, park, lake, wherever, but not inside. I'm told hens are great company, funny to watch and fascinating - maybe Lizzie (that's my daughter) can watch chickenvision?
So, count down has begun, and what have I done to prepare? I tidied of course, completely illogical behaviour, cut the lawn with perfect stripes, weeded the flower beds, tended the veg and soft fruit, planted out my bedding plants, fed the tomatoes, and swept the patio.
Lizzie and I are not entirely alone, and this is going to be a big shock for our spoiled rescue cat - Charlie, he is probably going to have to adjust more than Liz and me to the new hens, and although I'm reassured that most farms have cats, that hens will fend for themselves, and that Charlie can stop the potential rat/mouse issue, and learn to live with the new girls, I cannot get one image out of my mind. For this I have my good friend Patrick to thank. He suggested Charlie would be in the garden, sat outside the run, awaiting the first tentative, nervous steps of the bravest hen, into the big wide world that is my garden, wearing a bid, with a knife in one hand, a fork in the other, licking his lips, his eyes bigger than his belly, delighted with the walking lunch I have thoughtfully provided!
More soon, including names, and breeds and reactions from neighbours, family and friends.
Night.
x
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