The chickens are moulting and we’re hardly getting any eggs. Those which do lay are hiding their eggs so successfully that the Sage can’t find them. The only ones whose eggs are available are the young pullets, a few months old who are coming into lay – the eggs are small but gladly received into the Z kitchen.
Ooh, I just saw a policeman outside, so went to investigate. And I say, what jolly good service! He and a colleague are going round the entire village to tell people that there have been some burglaries – we’d heard about them actually, it’s not major crime but a spate of sneak thieving, opportunistic stuff. So the police are handing out letters with advice and having a word to advise locking up tools and so on. We do, actually, all our outbuildings are kept locked with substantial padlocks because at one time the Sage’s parents had some trouble and they made everything secure and we’ve kept it that way.
Anyway, this extraordinarily young police officer – I swear he’s young enough to be my grandson – says that they’re doing extra patrols, day and night, and making every effort to catch the thieves. Really, isn’t that awfully good of them? I mean, obviously they should, but to come round and tell us about it too. This is an area where there’s very low crime, so obviously they want to keep it that way.