So we are unpacked and settled in and I’m currently getting used to the new daily routine.
The routine goes much as follows: make
tea whilst watching the sparrows squabble in the garden (the curse of having the side of the bed closest to the door means I am now on morning tea duty). Return to bed with tea. Tea is interrupted by the sound of a
chicken. Pull on jumper and boots in a
hurry and run outside to find Ginger making bid for freedom #1 of the day. Catch Ginger, put her back. Chickens make such a racket they require
feeding. Collect eggs, only one again
today. Have got chicken poo on my
pyjamas. Urgh.
Try to return to bed, the dogs start feeling bereft that I
have clearly ignored them in favour of the chickens and start whining. I lie in bed with James for about 2 minutes
listening to them whine. Give up any
hope of relaxing and get up to walk the dogs.
Return home, find Ginger undertaking bid for freedom #2;
operation eat mum’s lettuces. Catch and
return Ginger.
Finally get inside, still not 9am. Tea has gone cold.
I am loving the pace of life here (in no way
sarcastic), I mean what the heck did I used to do with my mornings?!
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