Umm, no? That your husband has fallen in love with chickens?
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Our new young French couple who had a baby without us knowing called Romeoā¦they have chickens and a well behaved cockerailā¦one has just had 6 babies.
Ok we had talked about getting some babies but concerned that Henryetta would harm themā¦
But he went and talked to Antoinne over the fenceā¦saying are you selling some!!!
History ā¦he has now made an inner pen in Henryetta Penā¦
So without asking me, because he was besottedā¦
I did have to kill him ā¦got to go to the Dechetterie now Trixieā¦bye nowā¦waving
p,s Chillie6 and oldest daughter have gone to the Theatre this afternoonā¦sure he will talk about it,latersā¦
Hello Dianne!, I donāt know anything about chickens except that they live very dangerous lives, always trying to cross the road in heavy traffic or something like that. 
Quote Dianne: āā¦they have chickens and a well behaved cockerailā¦one has just had 6 babies.ā
Naughty Cockrel, if he was well behaved he would not have fathered 6 babies all at the same time.
Not to worry Dianne, itās tough on the old farm, but remember everything will work out as long as we pull together.
Pull Together
Alvin Stardust
{Peter Shelley}
Thereās too many chickens on the farm mother
Not enough hens that lay
Landās gone dry from the heat mother
Itās gone hard to stay
Now the pump wonāt pump, and the hen wonāt lay
The grain donāt take, itās blown away
Ma weāre sinking, we got to fight today
Weāve got to pull together, get on steam and make it while we can
Thereās too much drinking on the farm mother,
Now we gotta make a stand
Pull together, letās move fast and pray God lends a hand
Letās start working like a horse mother
We can save this land
Now the catās gone thin and the goose is squawking,
They both know the score (sure do)
Everywhere I turn, thereās dust mother
Eating this land for sure
Well the pump wonāt pump and the hen wonāt lay
The grain donāt take, itās blown away
Ma weāre sinking, we gotta fight today (everybody know it)
Pull together, get on steam, letās make it while we can
Thereās too much drinking on the farm mother
We gotta make a stand
Pull together, letās move fast, and pray God lends a hand
Letās start working like a horse mother
We can save this land
Thereās too many chickens on the farm mother
Not enough hens that lay
Landās gone dry from the heat mother
Itās gone hard to stay
Now the pump wonāt pump, and the hen wonāt lay
The grain donāt take, itās blown away
Ma weāre sinking, we got to fight today
Everybody
Pull together, get on steam, letās make it while we can
Thereās too much drinking on the farm mother
We gotta make a stand
Pull together, letās move fast, and pray God lends a hand
Letās start working like a horse mother
We can save this land.
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Can you hear me Mother?
I remember Mother was the code name for the headman in the avengers, that mother never listened, he just gave orders. 
Some of the TV ads these days confuse me.
Thereās one where theyāre flogging a piece of plastic foam that you put between your knees when you go to bed, if you watch TV on these Isles youāll know the one Iām talking about.
Can you imagine trying to sleep with this thing wedged between your legs?
And theyāre asking you to pay 20 quid for it!
Surely to God folks canāt be that stupid, I mean if you have to have something to put between your knees at night time to sleep why not use the old rubber hot water bottle?
It reminds me of the old schoolyard joke
āWhy does a Bee buzz?ā
āWell youād buzz if you had honey between your legsā
Oh my, Iāve made three posts today Iāll be swimming in badges if I keep this up. 
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Iām just popping in for a catch up.
My cousin/SiL is a germophobe. Even before covid she would wash and scrub everything, including herself, after touching anything. She used to get through bucketfuls of disinfectant spray. She even dips her earrings in TCP before putting them in. Giving her a kiss on the cheek is not as pleasant as it used to be when she does that.
When she prepares raw neat, afterwards she will put all her clothes in the wash and then have a shower, lest there be a cousin-eating microbe capable of jumping from meat to skin.
Anti-covid measures precautions are one thing, but I worry she has no immunity to things that normally float around in the air.
When I was a kid, playing involved getting dirty, then you touched your face and mouth, and effectively became immune to certain stuff by eating dirt.
My granny used to keep chooks. Feeding them hunting for eggs in their huge run, and wandering down the lane to sell them were some of my best memories of those days.
Ah, Mother from the Avengers. He had to go on a special diet to gain weight to get that role. He gained about 20 kilos I seem to recall. Not the healthiest of things to do in order to get into character.
My Lovely Cousin only listens to me when Iām wrong. 
Itās always a pleasure to hear from you Fruity.
That is indeed true about mucky kids, when I think back on it we were not very particular about what we put into our mouths.
When I was about five, three other lads and meself found a box of oranges dumped in a field across the road from where we lived, of course at that age we didnāt know the difference between fresh fruit and bad fruit, oranges were oranges and very scarce too in the years after the war.
We all ate one each and two of us ended up in the childrenās hospital, I can still remember to this day how sick I felt.
Anyway I pulled through it, would you believe that in all the junk I ate and drank since I never had any stomach trouble, Godās me judge, the antibodies in me stomach must have suits of armour on them.
Me and my mates spent more time in the sewer than the Mutant Ninja Turtles, then went home for a Jam Buttie.
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Once when a fella really annoyed me I had to give him a āJem Buttyā
Are you pleased we have reached the internet age?
Where every Tom Dick and Harry has the World stage.
Where fortunes are made and lost
And the meek and humble suffer the cost
Where bullies are born and liars abound
And chancers are two dozen to the pound.
Are you glad you have access to the net?
Where you can give as much stick as you get
And you can shop all the time on line
Maybe even get conned by an unscrupulous swine
If youāre young you can find a nice date
If youāre old you can still have a go, for they say itās never too late
Are you happy to daily log in?
Look through the posts and take your mind for a spin
If someone upsets you and makes you cry
Will you take to your bed and hope to die?
Yes to me it can be all so mysterious
But Iām easy, so I never take it too serious.
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Not sure the situation I like
That is why, I got a Bike. 
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My goodness, you two should get together and write a book!
You have to be joking Pixie, together with Spitty writing a book!, heād be too busy working on his bike while Iād be bending me elbow in the pub, not a syllable would emerge, considering the wife and me have been together 56 years and sheās lucky to get a written birthday card.
Speaking of writers, I honestly have great admiration for those who can write an entire book.
I could never concentrate for that length of time, I prefer to scribble away, you are then able to justify what you scribble and all the mistakes and cock-ups by claiming they are only scribbles after all.
Book writing is for the very dedicated, and God help them out there alone wracking their brains trying to be word perfect while holding the readers attention at the same time, suffering rejection time after time, a nerve shattering way to make a living.
I admire any writer who can do that, bless āem all, I would imagine itās one of the loneliest jobs in the World, except of course for the pulp writers who have whole teams of assistants to do the laborious bits, all they have to do is come up with a scenario and hand it over to the team to fatten it up.
I love reading Agatha Christie, not because she is a brilliant writer, she never was that, but she had the gift of holding her readers right down to the last page, plus she had a weird sense of humour that I loved, but you had to be quick to notice it, she was an awful slagger off-er, she slagged anyone and anything she didnāt like, she wouldnāt stand a chance of being published today in this politically correct society.
Speaking of books, I am over half way through the one about yer man, Monsignor OFlaherty.
He was a remarkable and very brave man, who brought out the best in the people he worked with. Can you imagine the ability of the man to get German Nuns to help him hide escaped PoWs and enemies of the Fascist Italians and the Nazis?
Nice to see youāre enjoying the book Fruity, Iām mostly into the audio books now, me oul lamps are not the best, the light reflecting on the white pages irritate them after a while.
Do they do black pages with white writing?
Itās a shame that the evil priests give the others a bad name, I knew some very good decent humble priests whoās vocation really was to help people.
When I was an altar boy there were five priests in our parish including the Canon, I think there are just two now Iām not sure as I havenāt attended in over 50 years, the church really has taken a back seat here in recent times, and in my opinion about time too, the corruption then was unbelievable.
One particular priest was the parish favourite, Fr. Jack (flash) Kavanagh R.I.P., he got the nickname because he could say a mass in eight minutes flat!, thatās true as I had a watch myself and timed him once, he never left out a word of the Latin either because I had to give the responses, he just flashed through it, I neednāt tell you that all the men went to his mass on Sunday morning so they would have more time in the pub later. 
He hated doing the Saturday afternoon confessions as heād be missing all the horse racing on the radio.
My Dad was a fairly religious man and he made the older brother and me get confession every week just like the weekly bath, whether we needed it or not, we were only kids and never had anything to confess bar the usual telling lies and disobedience to our parents.
One Saturday we decided to start cursing and swearing all the way to the church so as weād have something new to confess, you can imagine the looks we got from the respectable ladies we passed on the way.
When I entered the box Flash pulled across the hatch, looked at me and even before I had time to say āBless me Fatherā he smiles and says āJimmy get out and donāt be wasting me timeā
All that good cursing gone to waste. 
Poor old Flash was reported to the bishop several times by over religious parishioners for being too quick in performing his religious duties, and being drunk at weddings where he would sing rowdy sea shanties, someone told me he was a sailor before he took to the cloth, donāt know if thatās true or not.
Lovely man God rest him.
Hereās a nice seafaring song Gummy might like, The Pogues heading for South Australia.
One of my Teachers asked, Paul, why do you have to be so honest, it might have taken 50 years to find the answer, or not. 
Iām mad about your flying clock Fruity, God bless your skilled hands.
I ventured out to the bench today, not havenāt sat at it properly for nearly two years, funny enough to be honest I felt a bit scared wondering could I still perform.
Well the only way to find out was to get started on making the ring I had promised to make for a former employer of mine who was very good to me at a very slack time.
There are a few promises I still have to fulfil before I hang up my mandrel for good.
Iām pleased that after an hour at the bench it all came flowing back to me, albeit with the help of good magnification which is now essential with my diminishing eyesight, but Iām a happy old bunny knowing that I can complete the job from his own design.
Mind you me sight is not too bad for me age, I donāt need glasses on the street or watching TV, only for close up stuff, reading, and the computer.
So thereās a lesson there for all us oldies, never say die till you canāt.
I see a nice thread up about marmalising the English language, I suppose itās important to some, personally I donāt mind how folks talk as long as I get their message.
The thread title reminded me an incident in our house when the ākidsā were teenagers.
I recall one Sunday at breakfast when the 17 year old son sat down to eat and said:
āPass the marmalade Dadā
āThereās none son, your mother forgot to put it on the shopping listā
āWhat the ****!, no ****ing marmalade!ā
Loves him marmalade does our boy., but bad language and marmalade donāt mix well at the breakfast table, he left the table with a thick ear and never swore again in his motherās presence.
Now hereās some marmalade for you all to enjoy.
I went up to me local at lunchtime today having put in a good mornings work at the bench, I was looking forward to a nice quiet pint.
I was not to be, the place was full with a group of middle aged women of all shapes and sizes who had just completed a charity walk, the pub was humming with them all talking at the same time for the whole hour I was there, I couldnāt hear me own ears from the noise. there wasnāt a bleep from the handful of men there.
It made me think, who talks more, males or females?
I reckon a good way to find out who talks the most once and for all is to take 20 mature non acquainted people, all of them partial to a drink, 10 men and 10 women, seat them into a comfortable room with free food, snacks, and drinks laid on, they would have to spend 3 hours in the room, of course toilet facilities would be available but only one person could go there at a time.
They could watch TV, read, play pool, darts, games on tablets or phones. dominoes or knit if they fancied, but no talking.
Tell them they will be paid Ā£5,000 each for the 3 hours, but when they utter one word their money would drop by Ā£100 per word, and those who come out with the Ā£5,000 intact will get another Ā£2,000 bonus.
I think itās almost impossible for a woman not to talk with a few drinks on her for 3 minutes never mind 3 hours. (no deaf or dumb folks allowed participate)
Maybe ITV could set it up and refine the rules, it would be a bit of fun and make better TV than Big Brother any day, TV needs to come up with new ideas if they want to survive.
Have you ever seen the face of a woman whoās dying to have her say but canāt say it? Priceless, worth your entire licence fee itself.
Got all the talkin outa the way early on, waiting for the next Bus is easy Nowā¦
The problem with having a quiet pint is that pubs go out of business if itās too quiet. There is no need for shouties when you are in a group as other people then have to shout louder in order to be heard. It spoils the whole ambience. Well, thatās assuming a pub has an ambience these days.
Do they need a licence for one? They need one for singing and dancing over here.
I had a quiet evening with a friend spoiled by one man when I was single.
An American couple were having a quiet chat in a quaint Old English pub when an obnoxious bloke went over and began talking their eardrobes off. He slagged off the government, immigration, Maggie Thatcher, and spouted all sorts of political verbiage.
It must have ruined the colonial coupleās evening completely. No matter where we sat in the bar, and even out in the back yard, we could hear his voice. Iām sure he could have been bundled up by the Ministry of Loud Bangs and used as a secret weapon. His voice could pierce armour plate, and bore people to death.
Mind you, such a weapon would probably be banned by the Geneva Convention for being inhumane.
Back then I was a shy and reserved young chap, and in the end my mate and I went to a different pub. Nowadays I would have gone over and rescued the couple.
This was in the little village of Combe Martin where parts of the filum, Dr Dolittleās Circus starring Rex Harrison was filmed.
The trout stream was cleverly turned into a sea port by the film makers.
To make the place into a period set, All the TV aerials in the village had to be removed, and signals were instead fed along wuzzy-pipes to every cottage from a big aerial on the hill behind the place.
Mind you, the director appears to have missed the chap leaning on the boat up on the quay as he seems to be chatting to someone on his phobile moan.