The builder Guy phoned this morning, to tell me that the scaffolders would turn up first thing tomorrow to take the scaffolding down. I apologised that I hadn’t yet used the scaffold boards to balance on top of the henhouse – I should start from the beginning.

The splendid new henhouse needed to be painted with wood preservative before the winter and I finally started it a couple of weeks ago. It was the top of the run that was the difficulty, I needed something to kneel on. So Guy suggested a couple of scaffold boards. However, I couldn’t put them on top of the run, not on my own. Too heavy, too high, too awkward. Weeza and co came over yesterday – more of that in a minute, I won’t digress – and Phil and Gus lifted them up there. Today, I got a ladder tall enough to get myself up there too. And I funked it. I just didn’t care to do it. I’m not sure that I was really afraid, but I really didn’t want to do it. So I painted some of the edge that I could reach and then about half of the fourth side of the house itself. I think they’ll leave the scaffold boards if I ask nicely and maybe I’ll try again. But I suspect I’ll just acknowledge that I’m a bit old for this and I don’t want to any more. I used to be quite reasonably gung ho and I’m sorry not to be, but that’s how it is.

I asked Weeza how their wood pile was getting on and she admitted that it was pretty low. So they came over yesterday to stock up. I had a message from Gus – he’d heard that I’d invited them for tea and there might be cake. What sort of cake might there be? I hadn’t decided, I said, and wouldn’t be making it until Sunday morning, so what would he like? A sponge cake, maybe with jam? Perhaps cream? Strawberries too, I suggested, and he thoroughly approved.

Fact is, I don’t really make cake any more. But of course, an exception was made. In view of the filling, I thought a proper fatless whisked sponge would be a good idea. All the recipes said 7″ cake tins. I know my family. Not enough cake. So I made a bigger mixture and used 8″ tins.

Oddly, Delia wanted me to separate the eggs. I’ve never heard of a sponge cake being make that way and another cookery book agreed with me, so I whisked the eggs and sugar together and carried on in the traditional manner. Delia is splendid, but certainly went off piste in this instance. Anyway, all was well and the whole cake, as well as a packet of biscuits, was eaten. And a large pack of crisps. I had leftover (unopened) packets from the Rector’s bash, which I’d bought in case there wasn’t enough food. I gave them all to the family, along with various other things I’d overstocked on, mostly olive oil. I buy a 5 litre box of it at the street fair, from the importer who brings it across from the family farm, along with fabulous goat milk halloumi. But I can’t use 5 litres of olive oil a year, so I can supply the family too.

I also made a loaf of bread yesterday. I have let my bread making lapse, but I enjoyed doing it and I miss it. I can always give a surplus to the chickens. I have one chicken, by the way, who keeps getting out. None of the others is managing it, but always the same rather small bantam, so I guess there’s a gap just big enough for her. Of course, once she’s out, she regrets it but that doesn’t stop her doing it again the next day. She trots in quite happily when I open the gate, but I have to make sure the rest of them don’t get out. Eh. Keeps me on my toes.