I have created a little bit of magic. It came out about when I needed some light in the darkness in the back garden.
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.
I’ve been having a high old time – on my roof. It’s not the first time I’ve experienced a strange feeling of pleasure at being above it all.
I fear that ghosts are going the way of UFOs. The fact that we film everything that moves should have meant a plethora of sightings ripe for posting on yon YouTube.
I have seen something sinister, and it has given me the collywobbles. It was a Saturday so, as you might imagine, we were on the roof of a stately home.