Good Morning All
Yesterday gave me real hope that spring is finally here. There was a cold wind but even so, the sun held a little warmth. I thought I’d have a bit of a go at laying some slabs for the base of the new shed so I let the chucks and Chea out into the garden with me and began the task.
As usual I lost track of the time and became engrossed in slab moving. After a while I realised that one of the chucks was missing so I went in search, eventually finding her in the kitchen having walked mud everywhere and emptied Chea’s bowls of crunchies and roast chicken. The thought of a chicken eating chicken didn’t appeal much.
I soon realised that another chicken problem was imminent – the frogs are back in the pond. Masses of frog spawn sat at the water’s edge and the pond almost bubbled with frogs piggybacking and mating. These critters will grab onto and attempt to rape anything within paddling distance. If they stay in the water they are safe but if they venture out of the pond when the chucks are out they will nab them.
Beautiful caught a frog last year and did a Benny Hill sketch type thing all around the garden. Tearing round, tail feathers flying, with the other two chucks racing after her attempting to grab the swinging frog. Flowerpot was still alive then. And before you go thinking what stupid names for chickens I might as well tell you that little Jake named them – at least, that’s my excuse!
I nearly had a fit listening to that poor little frog screaming (yes they do!) and had to hide in the greenhouse with my hands over my ears until the deathly deed was done. Even if I’d managed to catch the chuck I wouldn’t have been able to resurrect a three-legged frog. Chickens are cruel little shits, they really are, but I do love them. I couldn’t touch their eggs for a fortnight – just the thought of frog flavoured eggs turned my stomach. No worries though because I dished up omelette after omelette for Richard and he never passed a comment. However, he did walk with an occasional hop for a week and croaked when spoken to! No he didn’t, I’m joking.
We dashed off to buy some shed paint in the afternoon and managed to agree on the colour and quantity (amazing) so I may get started on that later, after I’ve laid the other slabs and if I’m not chasing chucks away from the mating millions and retrieving Chea from the conifer.
I can barely contain my childish enthusiasm for the weekend. My new shed, which has stood waiting for the snow drifts to dissolve for the past ten days, should finally get erected. Then the rubbish from the summer-house and the greenhouses can be loaded into it and I will get my greenhouses back and then I can start setting seeds and all manner of things. They do say that little things please little minds and I guess it could be true.
The summer-house, which officially is Richards and is actually more like a large shed, other than for the fact that it has a sofa and a wood burner in it, needs a spring clean. Richard is a great fan of Ade In Britain, where Ade Edmondson tours Britain towing a small caravan which is basically a kitchen on wheels. So the other day Richard announced, seriously mind, ‘I might do some cooking this year.’
I didn’t comment, well it’s virtually impossible to comment when I’m suffocating with laughter.
‘Up at the summerhouse.’
I still didn’t comment, just sputtered a bit and tried to get my breath back.
‘Get a cooker like Ade’s and prepare some meals up there,’ he said.
I’m sure the man is trying to kill me.
‘Get a cooker and prepare meals out in the garden?’ I said.
‘Prepare meals out in the garden? You? You only know how to cook oven chips!’
‘Well I can cook oven chips in it can’t I?’
‘Why would you want to?’ I said.
‘Well I can’t cook anything else.’
‘So we are going to go to the expense of buying an oven so that it can sit rusting up the garden at the side of the rusting barbecue just so that you can cook oven chips?’
‘Yeah. What do you think?’
I did tell him what I thought – but I won’t tell you!