A Face To The Wall

When animals refuse their favourite tidbit, you know that they are ill.
When turkeys refuse their favourite tidbit, they are seriously ill.
It's an " all or nothing " thing where these strange birds are concerned

Yesterday I noticed that Bingley looked somewhat " droopy" . I offered him some  corn from my hand, but he just slowly turned his head away and the appropriated bowl  of wet cat food from the kitchen window sill,  which normally would have sent him into a mini frenzy of excitement , seemed to illicit the same response.
It wasn't a good sign.

I checked around , but thankfully couldn't see the telltale yellow poo signs of blackhead infection, ( an infection which is invariable fatal to turkeys) so I dug some baytril antibiotic out and gave him a dose  to cover him generally for any other potential infection., and then left him to it.
The rest would be up to Mother Nature.

This morning, he's still not eating and I noticed that he's started to  turn his head to the wall.
Turning a head to the wall is a term I give to animals that are giving up.
I have him another dose of antibiotics and syringed some sugar water into him.
He didn't protest and just watched me carefully with his huge black eyes after I had let him go.

A minute later he turned his head back to the wall, and I reluctantly left him  to sink or swim as the sun warmed away the "nearly frost" of last night's cold snap on the field.

Titivating

Ok, it's not quite on a par with Lady Cora's antique China breakfast tray, but this ( or variations of it) is what the Dowager Countess Chris is presented with for breakfast on weekends.
( try not to notice the small chip on the old habitat jug...but at least I did made the jam)
Anyhow with Christmas rearing it's ugly head....I am in the process of searching for an antique breakfast tray to give Chris.....I draw the line at a tray that has one of those newspaper racks built in to it.....(that's bordering on the institutionalised disabled) but I am sure I can find one that looks the part.

You can tell we are in the final semester of the year. Downton and Strictly have returned to tv, egg production has started to fall off somewhat and the cottage is filling up with big fat bastard hairy house spiders .
Now I must go.......I have to press Chris' silk pyjamas ...a lunch menu needs sorting.......and there are pots to side in the scullery

Cleanliness is next to Godliness

A normal morning at Bwthyn -y-llan........

I was caught washing a very sloppy and stubborn Clingon 

from Meg's arse over the garden wall using a dish cloth and the kitchen washing up bowl

Food For Thought

I went to work tonight and uncharacteristically it was quiet.

I changed my shift to cover another shortfall next month

So I am back home and wide awake

( thanks to a couple of hours sleep this afternoon)
This video is inspired ( in part) by Libby's comment on the last post
Enjoy

Erotic or Kinky?

Today I am trying to catch the young cockerel who arrived only a few weeks ago

He's got into the habit of roosting in the tree in the corner of the churchyard

( next to the light in the lane)

Subsequently He has been crowing rather too loudly from 4 am onwards

So far the neighbours have been kind....but I am sure he'll wear them down eventually

I am working this evening so I shall leave you with a stolen quote

one of my egg customers repeated to me yesterday

It amused me greatly.

As I handed over the eggs through his car window, he asked rather

dryly

" what's the difference between erotic and kinky?"

His question stumped me just a little as the chap is a grandfather of four who is not generally known for more " colourful " conversation.

" you're asking me?" I replied in my best Jewish voice, not quite knowing what to  say

He motioned me to come closer and dropped his voice

" Erotic........is when you obtain sexual satisfaction from using a feather!"

I nodded, wondering just what was coming next

" kinky.........." He looked around slowly" ......is when you use the whole chicken"

Busy, Busy , Busy

The words " prolific blogger" have been used on occasion to describe me by some. I think the term has been applied , purely by my habit of writing something here everyday.
It's an old habit now, and one that is literally part of everyday routine.
It's a case of , morning jobs, breakfast coffee and blog.
To some blogging suggests " too much time on ones hands" ( this has been said more than once I can tell you) but I would beg to differ. Writing a diary, (and blogs are essentially diaries are they not?) has become an essential part of my day. It's downtime, it's coffee time and it takes generally fifteen minutes max to complete (btw I am timing myself today and will put the time spent writing this tosh at the end)
I think I am busy for most of the day.... But last night I was reminded that others are considerably busier than I ........to them, fifteen minutes with a coffee and an empty blog screen would be a blissful adventure!)
Last night I helped Chris isolate priorities and deadlines in his workload.
He called out the jobs. I sat there like Miss Moneypenny and took the notes.
It didn't take that long.....( I was worried because The Great British Bake Off started at 8pm) but like I said it was a reminder of just how hard he works and what pressures he is under.
There was a conference to organise here, and  phD supervision so to complete there. Studies and papers needed writing and meetings needed chasing up...and I haven't even thought about how he was to fit in a foreign trip and presentation as well as work in London and Other parts of Wales and England...
No wonder Winnie's incontinence the other night  almost sent him to a rubber room!

Having said all this , I think we make a good team. He kicks ass in his academic world and I make a mean apple pie. Chalk and Cheese. Ying and Yang. Abbott and Costello......Lady Mary & Carson, Shelley Winters and Twiggy..........
Ok ok you get my drift....
So have I been busy today?
Well........y e s.....I have......I've made Jam and a crumble from bartered raspberries,done the week's shop, cut the lawn, washed windows, walked the dogs twice, cleaned coops, collected eggs, prepared supper, given a sick hen her twice daily antibiotic therapy, chipped the stray dog turd from the kitchen floor ( William's a bastard for a sneaky dump)
I have taken my bike in for a service ( Chris's will be done next Tuesday) and I am just about to prune the buddlea in the front garden before I clean out the log burner and sort out the recycling bins.
I am strong...I am invincible ....I am househusband MAN!
And I am not complaining....that's the deal... I have had time to sit in a sunny front garden to type this with another sneaky coffee.....whist looking back at a 17th Century cottage with honeysuckle and roses around the door ( and the occasional dog pee on the carpets)

It has taken me exactly 22 minutes btw ( and another 3 to fanny arse away taking the photo)

How lucky am I

Meg watching me carefully with her failing eyes

With honeysuckle over the door

Indian Summer

The village has been bathed in sunshine all day. Every time we have a warm afternoon, Auntie Glad can be found asleep on a deck chair just outside her front door.
Her presence is as reassuring as big Ben's chimes
It'll all change very soon, I am sure
The cottage looked like a Chinese laundry
What with duvets, duvet covers and sheets draped out in the garden sun
I've scrubbed the mattress too
It now smells very faintly of dettol and bulldog fanny
Hey ho