I have a new toy or hobby: cement. My unlikely love for this grey matter started when I needed to replace a missing brick at the top of the shoogly steps that lead into the back-garden.
All I want for Christmas is a parking space. One of the worst things about being back in the city is not having a place to park.
I was having a perfectly pleasant discussion with an older friend about the many shortcomings of the modern world when something she said put me in a quandary.
Well, have I had a time of it? I can answer that question quite easily: yes, I have had a time of it.
I was intrigued to read about a bed and breakfast establishment in Blairgowrie which had puts its chickens in high-visibility jackets to protect them when they crossed the road.
I reeled back in shock and spat my breakfast Honey Loops across the room. Could this learned article in one of the nation’s public prints be correct?
I have changed a tyre. Oh yes. That surprised you, didn’t it? Thought I was totally hopeless, didn’t you? Yes, so did I. But we must upgrade our files now to read: “Mostly hopeless.”
I am disturbed. All right. A hullabaloo of agreement greets my controversial opening announcement.
Well, my sojourn among the chickens is over and, of course, I am missing the little blighters.
Into the second week of my sojourn among the chickens. I’ve grown fond of the beasts, even if their behaviour is less than impeccable.