LT’s phone dropped out of his pocket, the other day. I rang it and it had just fallen in a bag by the sofa, but I took it as a prompt to set up family sharing on our respective accounts. I often use the “Find my phone” app but he doesn’t have any other Apple products, except an elderly iPod. It gives various options, which we haven’t taken up but, of course, to be able to find each other’s devices means that we can each look up where the other is. Which we usually know, of course. But oh, how we laughed.
It seems to be completely impossible to keep rats out of the hen house. Earlier in the year, after the fox disaster (when they’d got in through the adjoining barn), we upped our defences considerably. Unfortunately, since the old rat runs had been blocked off, they tunnelled instead and made great mounds of earth. We’ve paved part of the run, put wire down, rubble … they just dig through. It wouldn’t really matter, i suppose, except that it looks such a mess and they eat the chickens’ food. I don’t go out to let them into the greenhouse until about 9 and they can’t wait to eat until then. I don’t leave food in the greenhouse any more, they were really munching their way through the layer pellets – indeed, they like them a lot more than the chickens do (and they’re moulting anyway, so we’re only getting an egg every other day at present).
I can’t put poison down because of the cats and I can’t put traps down because of the chickens and I’m rather afraid of rat traps anyway. I guess I can pave the whole of the hen run, though it will take another 28 paving slabs – which I probably have – and a fair bit of work for Wince. It’s a nuisance, certainly.
I pre-empted another blocked drain, having noticed the kitchen sink plughole was a bit slow to empty the other day. It wasn’t bad but, having cleared the pipe between that and the first manhole, I put the rods down the next section and it was starting to back up a bit there. So we lifted the next one, which was clear, so I rodded between the two, lifted the other cover which leads from the bathroom and cloakroom and was relieved to find that was entirely clear. Actually, I lifted the wrong one first, and we gazed down into the well.
I don’t think I’ve told you about the well. And that reminds me that I was going to write down tales from the Sprig’s childhood and I’ve hardly started. So I should continue with that, too.