I'm sitting here quietly melting and stinging rather, as I have been out waging war on the brambles and nettles, which were retaliating viciously (aided and abetted by the dreaded horsefly.)I also have a war wound where I managed to stab myself with a screwdriver trying to put very large strimmer cable on the strimmer. Does the job though, I wouldn't like to see what it would do on flesh.
Our final tally on Sundays' chick front was six, which makes a total of 13 running around in varying sizes. I'd love to know how many are cockerells and therefore destined for the pot, but I have only seen two squaring up so far.
I'm going to see a woman on Sunday who breeds cul noir piglets, perhaps with the intention of bringing a couple home if I have everything organised by then.
Our friend Keith is desperate to have a pig, but has no land, so I said he could have one here and we would get one too. I have seen the pictures of the litter and had to stop myself going "oh - that one looks cute!', which would be a disasterous start.
I must learn not to get attached. If I do give it a name it is going to be Rasher, as that will be where it is headed.
It still seems very quiet without Tam. Someone told me that normally if a kitten makes it to over a year old he will hopefully be streetwise and not too daft. Tam must have just been approaching that. So sad.