Apparently, the hot weather of the last few weeks will be gone by tomorrow.  And there may well be rain.  The British love to grumble about the weather, of course, so we’ll last one day before we complain about the end of summer, whereas we’ve been moaning about being too hot.  I don’t, I like it hot, though I do get a bit hot-flushy sometimes.

I heard some noise from a chicken earlier this afternoon, though I didn’t take a lot of notice – chickens make a fuss about very little and it wasn’t a distress call.  Later, when I went to feed the animals, I realised that a partridge had got in the chickens’ greenhouse.  It was quite panicky, of course.  So I called LT to come and help and we got the chickens into the tunnel through to the hen house – except for two.  I’ve a couple of coops in there, which they like to go into, and one didn’t want to come out, so I shut the door.  The other was one of the stroppy black ones.  Poking her with my walking stick wasn’t enough to persuade her to move, so we decided to ignore her and chivvy her back if she got out.  Then LT opened the door at the other end from her sulking self and I went towards the partridge – which cowered in a corner, so I was able to pick it up and put it outside with no difficulty at all.  Though there was nearly a disaster – I hadn’t realised the barn cats were outside and Zain moved forward with some alacrity.  I shouted no, of course and the partridge seemed to get away – I went to check again a few minutes later and all the cats were relaxing on their straw bales, so it was all right.  Tim and I searched the greenhouse to find where the partridge, whose name is obviously Alan, got in, and some of the netting had come loose, so we’ve dealt with that.

A dull post this evening, I’m afraid.  I went out for lunch with girlfriends, as I do monthly, but not a lot else of note has happened.  I must try to think of something more entertaining  for the next post.  Maybe a baby photo…