Still a bit obsessed with chickens, though it’s all going well. Rose, who has an affinity with birds, used the week we were away to train them into going to bed when asked. They wouldn’t for me, but now they do. So there’s no more problem there at present. Next job will be introducing the newbies, though, which I’m not looking forward to. But it’ll be all right in the end, I’m quite sure.
LT has put up a perch in the new shed and will do another one in the next day or two. I’ve put in one of the trio of nest boxes, leaving the other for the newbies. I leave the door open and the original lot are wandering in and out. There’s no hurry.
Wink is arriving tomorrow for a few days – did I mention that it’s her 70th birthday today? Celebratory champagne would flow like water off a duck’s back, if you’ll excuse the mixed metaphors, except that she was unwell a few weeks ago and hasn’t started drinking again since. She might concede a point or she might stick with the fizzy water. I now count alcohol in half hours rather than units. Do I want another glass of wine enough to wipe half an hour off my life? The answer is likely to be yes, I can’t deny.
It’s all a matter of what you can relate to, and a random allocation of an end-of-life position that might be tomorrow or might not happen for decades is not something I can. I devised a financial equation years ago, though. I think that we might have bought a piece of Lowestoft china – thing was, next time I was considering buying a mild extravagance, I thought, hmm, it costs a middle-of-the-road teabowl and saucer…yup, it’s worth it to me. I explained this excitedly to the Sage, who was entirely in favour (he always approved of me buying stuff, he always felt I didn’t spend enough on myself). Now, my attitude is slightly different. It’s “hey, it’s barely a week’s pension, it’s worth quite that!” Or something. I’ve relaxed, anyway. Which can’t be bad.