Losing Control & losing George

As Chris would swiftly testify, I am a bit of a control freak. I also can be incredibly bossy, but I always think that is a product of an organised mind and a clear vision of what needs to be done! Anyhow I do find it hard letting others assume responsibility for my needs, so today has been a bit of a red letter day for me!.
Steve (the village spokesman) has heard of my need for fencing, so has arranged for some "slightly shopworn" fence and posts to be delivered on Monday. This morning he turned up with an organised vision and good intentions of the pre-pig arrival jobs to be done. With cheerful friend Gary in tow (with his trusty chain saw), the two of them have cleared the bottom hedge borders and debated where was the best place for the pig shed to be placed.
The fat faced elderly farmer has been roped in to help with fence building next week....and it wasn't long before I felt like a character from the barn raising scene from Witness.
Steve, who enjoys a bit of a project, has various ideas regarding gates and pig shade requirements, Gary had his own suggestions, and I suspect the fat faced farmer will throw in his two pence worth on monday...so instead of getting mad with my lack of control....I smiled to myself , made them all tea and gave each a dozen eggs.............

As the workers got on with hedge cutting and planing, I got on with coop clearing. Now Maddie and George spend most of the day with me in the field. They potter and sniff quite happily and even the bad tempered Clover leaves both of them alone.

By 2pm I had finished cleaning the duck house and looked up to check on the dogs. Maddie was sat nearby next to Boris who had been watching me all morning. George was nowhere to be seen. I checked each enclosure, the Graveyard and the road, without success and by the time I re checked each one in turn I was starting to get slightly frantic.
I galloped down the lane to check the cottage, ran around to Mandy's house then Carol's to see if he had ambled off there, then went back to re check the field with a cold dread feeling.
I don't know why I checked inside the main hen coop, but when I did,there was George, sat quite happily amid the wreckage of half a dozen eggs. The little bugger had somehow squeezed himself into the hen house, then from two nesting boxes he had stolen eggs to munch on!
Hybrids Blanche and Raquel Welch were sat rather anxiously in their own boxes ( with eyes like saucers) , so I suspect George was waiting quite patiently for them to move so he could fill his face even more.

Never a dull moment!