Busy As A Bee …That’s Me!

Hi All

I’ve been as busy as a little bee this morning buzzing here, there and everywhere and all in a previously worked-out order to take into account the different opening times of the different shops. Clever hey? Bet you didn’t realise I could be so organised?

Doctor’s surgery first to drop off the new prescription that will probably zombify (is that a word?) me more than usual. The pound shop for some silly Peppa Pig bits that Grace, my two-year old grandchild, loves. It’s her birthday on Sunday. Actually, now that I’ve just written Peppa Pig I think it’s actually Hello Kitty that she loves. Whatever – as they say. Peppa Pig will have to do. They are all pink! And I think it is horrifically incorrect to have a pig with two eyes on the same side of its face. What kind of message is that sending out?ed_kworld_peppapig_03

Then it was good old Morrison’s, where, for the life of me, I couldn’t find the sea salt. Eventually I had to ask. I collected the lottery ticket on the way out and as I stood in the queue waiting, my attention was drawn to a notice. It said, “customers may be challenged to produce their ID.” I thought that a bit harsh and had visions of people being chased down the tomato sauce aisle, brought down and sat on until they produced ID. “Challenged?” Really? Surely requested would have sufficed?

Next was the pet shop for some corn for my one and only remaining chuck, Dust. It’s one of those bucket and scoop places. I think I over did the quantity somewhat, especially for one chicken, because as I got to the till and handed over the bucket the handle fell off and the mixed corn flew everywhere. It wasn’t my fault if their silly plastic buckets can’t hold half a ton of mixed corn. I’m shortly going to have a major clean and disinfect of Dust’s pent house. She is still looking sad and missing her friend, Beautiful, but the good news is the antibiotic seems to have worked and she is looking much better. I’m considering getting her a friend or two in the next week or so. The grim reaper appears to have relinquished his grasp on her so I think another chuck or two is in order.

Chea has been a pain in the butt for the last two days. After the ‘bringing the baby bird back alive’ episode I refused to let her out unsupervised so that’s meant much shorter sessions out in the garden. It’s Wimbledon for goodness sake. I can’t be expected to be skulking out there with her when Andy Murray needs support. He’s on again this afternoon so I have my popcorn at the ready. Lord knows when I’ll get round to cleaning out Dust’s emporium. It could be a short match. Andy had a terrible struggle playing the Spaniard, whose name frankly escapes me, as does many things these days. You didn’t need to be a lip reader to get the gist of what Andy screamed after losing the first two sets. Two years ago Murray would have dropped his head and given in and I thought he was going to do just that again but he didn’t. He battled on bravely and that was that – game, set and match.

I have given Chea the benefit of the doubt and just let her out on her own. If she brings another baby bird back, gulping its last breath, I am going to put on her Ebay!! Joke. Don’t bloody take me seriously. I’d never do that. Well, actually I might!

I guess, if I get my act together and get off here, I could start on the sterilisation of the chuck shed? Makes sense. My life is a real hoot at times – but I do have the tennis to look forward to.

I’m planning on letting Richard take me out for the day on Sunday, probably to the coast for a paddle, UNLESS Andy wins today and then I’ll have to stay glued to the TV.

Enjoy the weekend.

 

Take care my lovelies x

 

 

If You Don’t Like Something Change It …

Hi All

How is it possible to hate something you love so much? No, I’m not talking about Richard, although he has been winding me up to eruption point recently. Bloody Chea has just brought another baby bird down to the house and it isn’t dead – yet. I so hate her at this moment. Hate. Loath. Despise. I’ve had to cover it up with a bucket – the baby bird, not Chea. I feel like covering her up, or beating her up, or something. Why do they have to be so sodding bombastic and cruel? Oh I know. That’s a cat’s mindset. She is now sitting on the table licking her backside like butter wouldn’t melt (??) I can’t bear to look her – or her backside!

I have to sadly report that all the chucks bum washing has come to a sad end. Beautiful died early Sunday morning. We took her to the vet on Saturday and were met by a vet who looked younger than the chicken. I have no faith in ‘chicken’ vets. The last time we took Beautiful, a year last Christmas Eve, the vet then palmed us off with lotions and potions and charged us £60 for a condition that I later found, by Googling chicken sites, was perfectly normal. I couldn’t be bothered with the charade of the vet pretending she knew what she was talking about so I just told her I needed her to fill Beautiful with antibiotic. We came away with the powder to place in the drinking water and when, on Saturday evening, she guzzled down a bit I thought that we might be in with a slim chance. But no. She was alive when I went to her at 6.00 am Sunday morning – but dying. I made her comfy in the corner of the shed, away from Dust, and she quietly and peacefully died.

I totally believe that Beautiful had a growth and that nothing could have saved her. She had the best life possible and was a lovely friendly chuck. We buried her in a spot in the garden that she loved. I think it’s nice to spend eternity in a place you loved in life. Our Burmese, Oscar, is buried under the lawn, next to the pond, because that is the place where he often sat. Meg, our collie, and Mishka, our moggie cat, are buried side by side just outside the kitchen door. They were both home bodies and had a great affection for each other. Wow! Not much cheer and riotous fun on here today, hey?

My problem now is that Dust is on her own. I’ve decided to give her 5 days antibiotic treatment and then review the situation. Chucks shouldn’t be kept on their own. They are flock creatures but I don’t want to introduce a new chuck/chucks until I’m sure she is 100%. She has recently gone into the heaviest moult possible and is moth-eaten and bare in places. She is sad that her friend has disappeared and searches for her in the garden making little clucking noises that remain unanswered. Alas she won’t find her. I retrieved the radio from the greenhouse yesterday and put that in her shed. Now she can listen to the ‘tunes’ throughout the day and not feel so lonely. Not too sure I should inflict Jeremy Vine on her though? Probably finish her off? Sorry Jeremy but you do have some shit on your show.

I went to my neurology appointment yesterday. Huh! If it wasn’t for people like me people like the consultant I saw wouldn’t have a job.  Obnoxious? Yep. Condescending? Totally. I appreciate that they see some weird people, myself included, but that doesn’t give them the right to speak to you like you are an amoeba. I heard him ‘short-change’ the girl he saw before me and she flew out of the place like the devil was after her. I firmly believe this … if you don’t like something change it. I didn’t like his attitude …so I changed it!

He seemed hell-bent on dishing out medication of all types and was most rude when I said that I didn’t want to take it because of the possible side effects. He said, ‘you won’t know till you try it, will you?’ Later, he enquired what type of books I wrote because I’d said that as things are, with all these headaches and migraines, I couldn’t think to write and he said he was going to look on Amazon. I said, ‘yeah, you do that. I know it’s romantic suspense but you won’t know if it suits you until you try it, will you?’ Touché.

At this point I discovered the cocky little shit could smile and hadn’t had a humour bypass, performed by one of his colleagues, on the cheap. From that point on we had a riot. I told him to go ahead and buy Mulligan’s Reach in paperback and then the next time I saw him I’d sign it. Ha ha! You ain’t so tough Mr Consultant Person. In conclusion he’s referred me for a scan. Probably wouldn’t have done that if I hadn’t talked him into buying my book? Maybe it’s Mr Consultant Person who needs the brain scan?

And on that note I shall bid you bye-bye.

Take care my lovelies x

Sad little moulting Dust.

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