Throwing Like A Girl

The back of the Cottage and the field beyond

To understand the content of this post, you, dear reader , will need to understand the layout of our piece of Trelawnyd. As most ancient cottages, Bwthyn-y-llan lies directly on the lane which snakes out past the Church and down to the site of the Felin ( Welsh for Mill) and  towards the villages of Cwm and Dyserth.

Our back door opens to the lane where only a low wall separates us from the lane then the Graveyard wall beyond.

The ground in the graveyard is six feet higher than our back garden, so when the likes of the Guinea fowl wander around , hopeful of a little titbit from the kitchen, they can peer directly down onto the back of the house and right into the windows.

This afternoon it has been a day for catching up. I have picked onions, broad beans and potatoes, cut the lawn and walked the dogs ( a short walk as Meg and William are both slightly lame following their disastrous kennel stay).

I have also done a little baking and knocked up some jam tarts with some abandoned jam from The Flower Show. As usual I had some pastry left over and after hearing the guineas calling from the Churchyard I took the damp pastry outside to throw at them.

( now this does not sound too odd, as I must let you know that most poultry go absolutely gaga over uncooked pastry dough. They love it as fat people love cream cakes.....)

Anyhow I took a handful of dough, called the guineas over and lobbed the pastry at them without really thinking about what I was doing.

I threw the pastry like a real girl.

And with a plop the wet pastry slammed against the back window of a passing 4 x 4!

I very nearly legged it into the cottage I was that embarrassed but luckily I recognised the driver when she stopped to see what had happened. She passes down the lane most days.

"Sor--ry I called out....I was throwing pastry at the guinea fowl"

"Course you were!" she called out cheerfully as though it was the most normal thing in the world to happen to her on a Sunny Saturday afternoon