It’s been some weeks since I last put pinky to keyboard. Work was busy and truth be told the 12 hour days were a bit much for the old lad. He got home, stuffed some grubby into his ever open mouth and shuffled off to bed. Cream crackered, the poor old thing.
So, a summary of things allatsea-ish to bring you up to date.
The fortnightly rota ended on March 9th but there was a VisSim training course to be done so had to come in for the day on the 10th. All OK, it’s a lovely system.
Home, constructing chicken run, trebling up the available space for the chooks. Weekend spent catching up with a few peeps and sampling some very fine Belgian Ale.
Sunday-rugby international- we provided Black Peas and vinegar to the assembled wugger fans at the Aqua. Not many in but the peas were well received, despite it being a very Northern dish and the Aqua being very Suvvern.
Monday at Mr Hussain the dentist in Birchington. Very swish, very reassuring, very modern and sadly, very VERY expensive. Came away having signed away £3335 for treatment. Crikey where’s the NHS when you need them? They don’t even do the treatment it seems.
Tuesday, Churchmans farm south of Faversham. Collect 6 x 20 week old Bovan Nera chooks. Get home with them at 1100. At 1225 the first egg arrives. Timing to perfection or what? I was impressed anyway. During the evening one hen very reluctant to go to bed in the coop. Gets noisy and distressed and the allatseas do too. Much stressing out until we remember that cousin Jack in Hartley (near Gravesend) is an accomplished battery hen rescuer. Five minutes on the phone to her and a plan is formed. We ignore the clucking dilitant and sure enough in her own good time she joins the others. Close the pop hole door and breathe a huge sigh of relief. All quiet on the chicken front. Phew.
Wednesday in Canterbury with Mick and Chris for a wander around the streets and visiting hostelries. Very pleasant indeed. Used the new Hitachi ‘fast’ train between Margate and Canters. Thirty minutes dead each way and few stops. Impressive but the fare of £9.10 for a cheap day return seems a bit on the high side.
Thursday, called into work. Friday into work for the morning and the rest of the day doting on the chooks who are proving to be delightful. This followed by a bit of a wasted weekend, goodness knows why, so nothing to report at all.
Monday called into work again….blimey…oh well….think of the day rate. Tuesday doing more building and pottering at home and today, Wednesday, back on nights for a week. The days go by so quickly.
On Tuesday night though, we had a call from the brother of my mate Kevin. He’s not too good. The big bastard C is going to get him it seems. Nothing more anyone can do they say. Just a matter of days. Difficult news to deal with. That kind of thing always is I suppose. A wonderful chap, with a beautiful wife and divine children. What have they all been through? Ghastly stuff indeed. Torment for them. I’d like to write a trillion words telling you all about him. My friend of 39 years, the chap I looked up to, who I benchmarked from. I envied at times. I respected always. And now he’s going to be taken away, broken and gaunt, torn with pain and lost dreams and all hope gone. It’s not a good moment. I of course don’t have the words or the erudition to do him justice so I’ll say no more, not now.