I’ve had a bit of a problem with the youngest, smallest bantams getting out and I knew there were some gaps between the chicken run and the barn it leant on. So we went out with hammer, nails and staples and a length of chicken wire, and we plugged the gaps. I’ve still not found the missing pot eggs though – clearly, a rat came in to explore, thought he was on to a winner and carried away china eggs. Three of them. I’ve only got three left and Roses has two, of the eight originals. Those barn cats are not doing their duty, it seems. That is, I can’t think of any other explanation.
After we’d done this work, LT and I thought we deserved a drink, so took ourselves off to the village pub for a pint (each, natch). And I introduced him around and we were clearly eyed up and the situation was approved. And then we went home, I picking tortoise weeds on the way, and I cooked ham and eggs for lunch and then we went out to the greenhouse to pot up tomato seedlings. We had intended to plant out broad beans, but it seemed like a bit more effort than was warranted for a Sunday afternoon. Maybe tomorrow. It’s not the planting out, it’s also the netting against chickens and pigeons that’s a bother.
I spent some of the time in the greenhouse rescuing bees, of both the honey and bumble sort. They always do it, fly into the greenhouse because it’s the direction they want to go, and then can’t work out how to exit. They’re very single minded. Later, LT pointed out that a butterfly was trapped. It was a cabbage white, so I left it to its own devices.
My clarinet is in for repair, because a key broke, as I mentioned a week or so ago. I hope that it can be mended – it’s either going to be a simple job or a massive one, there’s nothing in between. It’s possible I may need another clarinet, at any rate in the interim. I’m quite anxious, really. As it’s my grandfather’s instrument and all I have of his, it means a lot to me. I should know by next Thursday. Fingers crossed. Not that one can play the clarinet with fingers crossed.