New Adventures at Layalot Castle

Layalot Castle has been fully renovated since and security stepped up since we were unfortunately visited by Mr Fox back in March.

I have missed the antics of the hens, especially first thing in the morning, but it has been very difficult to track down a supply of new ones during lockdown. Apparently, everyone in Sussex decided that they wanted to keep chickens when the pandemic began, and there was something of a shortage. I had planned to go for chicks and raise them, but we couldn't get hold of any.

So back to rescues. We were hoping for six, but only three arrived: Blanche, Nessie - short for Lyonesse - and Lynette (to continue the Arthurian theme).

Eddie was a little disappointed that they wouldn't eat sweetcorn straight from his hand.

But, aside from being a little timid they seem quite happy so far -and in far better condition than rescues we have had in the past. They have plenty of feathers for one thing. Nessie laid an egg within ten minutes of moving in. But Blanche is the early front runner for ruling the roost. I found her eight feet up on top of our garden wall when I went to put them to bed.

And Gilby made for an excellent hen-whisperer when the girls had no idea how to get back into their coop.

Mispronunciation Megaboosts

Everyone has a story about the kind of mispronunciation that happens because you have only seen a word in print, never heard it spoken out loud. I can remember reading a Catherine Cookson novel (when I was way too young to be reading Catherine Cookson) and stopping to ask my mum what a w-horror was (whore). She burst out laughing when she realised what I was referring to. I'm not sure I got an adequate explanation.

Eddie, this morning, told his sister that she smelt of 'co-lodge-knee'. It took us a while to work out that he was referring to her perfume as 'cologne'.

Gilby wanted to know what people did to get sent to 'gayol' and why it was so bad.

While both caused some amusement, they get me back by uttering utterly incomprehensible game-related statements such as 'It's a nightmare because I always need to megaboost by stage four when I run out of flying monkeys.'

Or something like that.

Increasingly I find that I have nothing to contribute to mealtime conversation.

I wonder if the flying monkeys smell of colodgeknee before they megaboost, and whether that gets them out of gayol.





Currently reading: Girl, Woman, Other by Bernadine Evaristo