It is raining. Raining hard actually. We have taken refuge in the old stable perched on a bale of straw. Harvest (the canard) is snoozing and Pauly the Turkey is thinking about laying an egg. I'm sure Pauly won't mind me saying, but she has laid some whoppers this year. Kizzie's man who is called James likes them scrambled. Sadly we no longer have Johnny Turkey now. Did you eat him at Christmas, I hear you cry. Of course not! He just took a turn for the worse and passed peacefully away. So Harvest and Pauly have become the best of friends. Now yesterday was a lovely sunny day. We did a fair bit of useful grubbing and Dad cleaned some pens out and mended holes. He also went to buy our weekly supplies from the Chicken supermarket. Mum de-frosted the fridge at Wattlebury Cottage. She hadn't intended to, but the door was accidentally left open overnight and it was half done when she came into the kitchen in the morning.
Must just mention here that we had a bit of a scare on Friday night. Thought Mum and Dad had also taken a turn for the worse and that they were going the same way as Johnny Turkey. Gordon xx
Must just mention here that we had a bit of a scare on Friday night. Thought Mum and Dad had also taken a turn for the worse and that they were going the same way as Johnny Turkey. Gordon xx
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