Sunday morning. Mrs Miggins is collapsed on the chaise longue in the Stella Gibbons Library in the East Wing of the Manor, wrapped in a snuggly blanket, toeses encompassed in her favourite cat fur bed socks, and a large mug of hot chocolate within wing span. She is grateful for the extra hour in bed following the putting back of clocks. She has had, what in common parlance might be called, ‘one dung heap of a week.’
The other hens have been up since the crack of dawn because they ALWAYS forget about the clock changes, which renders them either very early or very late twice in a year.
‘Are you all right?’ demands Mrs Poo, bursting into the library. She is in search of inspiration for her Next Grand Adventure following the success of her End Of The Rainbow Expedition. She is thinking something along the lines of digging for an extinct or hereto unknown species in a very deep cave or casting herself adrift in a dirigible fashioned in the style of steampunk.
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ says a tight-beaked Mrs Miggins. ‘Just need a bit of peace and quiet after what has been a VERY busy and strenuous week.’
Mrs Poo is engaged in book flicking, so isn’t really listening. ‘Lovely,’ she says. ‘What’s for dinner? I’m feeling a bit peckish, pardon the hen-based pun…ahahahahaha!’
‘That’s because you got up an hour too early, therefore it is only 11 a.m in real time and not 12 noon in your crop’s time,’ says Mrs Miggins. ‘And if you can’t wait another hour then your dinner will be whatever you want it to be because you can ******* well make it your ******* self, you selfish ***.’
Mrs Poo raises an eyebrow. ‘All right, all right,’ she says. ‘Keep your comb floppy. I’ll leave you in peace, shall I? Go and make myself some wormicelli pasta, shall I?’
And she struts from the Library, a copy of ‘The Grand Duchess Figaroll’s Definitive Guide to Getting Up To Mischief Why Keeping Your Pantaloons In Place’ tucked under wing. She tries to slam the door to make a point but it’s got one of those slow closing gadget arm thingies on it so is unsuccessful.
Mrs Miggins sighs, has a sip of hot chocolate, and reviews the week in her diary. She is so tired she hasn’t even got the energy to wipe the blob of hot chocolate cream from the end of her beak.
She writes:
1) stood in loco chickentis for Lady Malarkey at her work place. Was directed to empty large amount of compost from one bin to another bin. Hard and smelly work but at least it kept people away from me when I went shopping on the way home.
2) made industrial-size vat of hummus. Stick blender is unable to cope with rigidity of chick peas so used potato masher instead. Note to self : might be worth the bother of wrestling blender from back of cupboard next time
3) pruned back Wild Eldric. Still picking bastard thorns from wing tips six days later. No infections though, so last tetanus booster circa 1990 must still be ticketty-boo. Note to self : would a new cast iron fence be a better option than bastard Wild Eldric hedge? Not as pretty, maybe, but considerably less pain-inducing.
4) embarked on making 3-D gnome Christmas bunting. Don’t ask. Suffice to say the noses are a sod to attach.
5) toyed with making paper chains out of fabric. Even made a measurement plan. Need to summon up the energy and patience to bring to fruition. Buy chocolate - this will help energy and patience enormously.
6) oiled kitchen worktops. Read instructions on oil can after job completed, and startled to learn that cloths used in the oiling process can self-combust (!) so MUST be hung to dry on line afterwards in order to prevent this happening. Immediately hung/hanged/honged cloths on line. Still there six days later. Fear of spontaneous combustion still on Red Alert. Might get them in after Christmas. When they’ve been rained on. A lot.
7) completed Christmas shopping! All online, being delivered through steady stream of men in white vans. Big tick, gold star for this job done!
8) started wearing lipstick again. Stops me looking quite so rough especially after compost heap shovelling. Note to Self : avoid hanging around on street corners.
Mrs Miggins sighs again and leans back on the chaise. She might watch ‘The Angry Birds Movie’ this afternoon. It’s highly amusing and today she is feeling a particular affinity with them…
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KJ
KJ