Its the chicken man!

They have arrived!.

For years now I have been toying with the idea of keeping chickens. I am very much in love with the whole country life thing, I have magazines brimming inside the house from country life to period house, wellies by the door, which now in an ever so rhyming fashion sit with the straw by the door - bliss!

WEll it would be if the bloody things ever lay an egg.

WE have five chickens, one for each of our young;although they where in fact a birthday pressent for me, I guess I get the good job of poop cleaning and no bird - such is life.

So, 5 chickens one white 2 brown, and 2 black, white chicken is my favourite as she is the only one laying an egg at the moment (we have had them all nearly a fortnight now and my husband is avidly eyeing up the stockpot after checking the bank balance each and every night noting how much the darn things cost to set up with still no return by the way of eggs on our investment).

Yes indeedy countdown to casserole has started in our house with 3 days to go before they get the , er, chop suey treatment, again sods law I still wont be having any part of the birds due to the fact I cannot eat anything other than baby mush or special k, please don't get me started on crisps, I eat so many I have started to have dreams about them ganging up and chasing me, better leave that one for another time I think, the wranglings of my mind are not for the faint hearted.

So chickens , and a bloodhound, a garden which has become a shrine to my local garden centre turning into a cottage garden of england ever ever so slowly, my dreams of country living are very nearly complete, (talking of dreams, the prunes are in fact moving, joyous as I am to be parted from them finally as we truly do not get on, I honestly wish them well , and feel soooo sorry for who gets them next), cath kidston table cloth on order whistling kettle, its all falling into place, ahh yes life in my quiet country life sanctuary is bliss, the downside to this wonderful enchanting dream is that today I had a deep filling which in turn led the dentist to reveal I need route canal treatment, knocked the spots off my cath kidston cloth, and made the gently cooing of the chickens sound like thunder from the pain of the tooth.

Ah well I guess dreams are meant to be exactly what they are, just dreams, which is what makes them so so very special when we are dealing with reality, for where else would we escape to when the old dentists drill is whurring away, or the egg holder is gathering dust through its empty, very empty wholes?

For me, Iescape to a field of clematis creeping up the pergola butterflies fluttering past a grassy undulating lawn, and a bloody great whole the dog has just dug with the children wallowing in the dirt, I guess I mix a bit of the dreamer with reality,

Well you cant have your tea and cake (on a cath kidston cloth), (from a whistling kettle), and eat it, can you!

Certainly not, if the cakes where pretty it would spoil my dream!

and put crumbs on the cloth

3 days to go... come on girls cluck cluck or chop chop up to you!!!!!!!