It started off a rather melancholic morning. I was up early as I had already caught up on sleep over the last few days and was feeling a little better despite having a streaming nose from the cold which has now decided to " ooze"
I culled a hen before breakfast which isnt a nice job at the best of times, but she looked so sick that I felt obliged to do the deed there and then.
I laid her body next to the badger track through the field and later her body will be recycled by them as they scratch out a living in the cold autumn ground. In the meantime some of the other hens and the gentle cockerel Thor gave her sad little body the once over.
I was repairing a Mary ripped hole in a pair of pyjama bottoms when there was a knock at the front door. It was a friend from work wanting coffee. She told me she had tried to come through the back garden but a ugly looking dog had prevented her from opening the back gate.
I told her it was Winnie who had just spent an hour watching gardeners doing the garden at a neighbours house, " she's obsessed with workmen," I informed my friend " she has a thing for
" dont we all?" my friend replied , looking around our living room with interest.
I realised that she had never been to the cottage before.
I think it's a common thing to be apologetic when someone new " checks out" your house, after all you are more than aware of that blotch on the stair carpet left by a menstruating bulldog, or that mark on the hall corner which signified an old Welsh terrier's scratching spot, but my friend seemed rather captivated by the " old lady" feel of the place, which the cupboards and shelves filled with objects, photos, books and clutter.
She wandered around the house as if it was a museum.
She wanted to know about the history of the art noveau desk in the living room.
" its lovely" she said and it was nice for me to see the cottage through bright new eyes.