Came home to find a couple of monsters in the garden – courgettes that have nearly become marrows, they grew so big:

Shown with twenty pence piece for scale

Another marrow and a cucumber.
The tomatoes are plentiful, but so far very green. Here’s hoping

Fun was had at Zilker Park (spring fed municipal pool), a Tori Amos concert at the Long Center during sunset over Austin and kayaking on town lake.

Written by Richard Craze, Author of Out of Your Townie Mind

1. Don’t decide to go because the countryside looks lovely on an August bank holiday. Always make sure you’ve visited in the depths of winter when it’s all bleak and wet and dark – February is especially good for this.
2. Never decide to move somewhere after only one visit – go lots of times and at different time of year (see above) and at different times of day (you might be on a rat run or a school run).
3. Don’t assume that moving is going to change your basic personality. If you are fat and lazy in the city then you are going to be fat and lazy in the countryside. Moving changes nothing.
4. Don’t assume that things are done the same in the country – they’re not. Just imagine you are moving to a foreign country and plan accordingly – different language, customs, food, habits and sense of time. It will all be very different. Moving changes everything.
5. Be sure you can cope with isolation, loneliness, mud, rain (endless rain sometimes for days and days) a lack of entertainment, nosy neighbours, unpleasant smells, untimely activities – our local farmer cuts hay at midnight all summer long and another goes lamping (1) in the early hours with a shotgun and a smoky diesel Landrover with no exhaust.
6. Make sure you know what is on offer – and what you want. Is living off the beaten track for you? Or do you need local shops and a friendly post office? Small town or up a rural mountain? Edge of a village or near the sea? They all have their draw-backs and positives – make sure you know which is which before you take the plunge.
7. Make sure you know what facilities are on offer. Broadband is a given in a city but a bonus in some villages. Taxis are an unheard of luxury in some regions and a delivered pizza an impossible dream.
8. Question carefully what it is you are looking for by moving to the countryside – downsizing? A change of pace? Retirement? Following a dream? (Who’s dream?) Inability to make it in the city?
9. Once you have moved keep quiet for at least five years. Don’t go poking your nose in, organising, offering advice, changing things, making suggestions, interfering. Don’t join any committees, organisations, clubs, councils (local or parish) at least for the said five years – unless it is of course in a very junior role doing menial tasks that the locals wouldn’t be seen dead doing.. You are an outsider and must bide your time, serve your apprenticeship and hold your tongue until accepted – a minimum of five years, probably longer, probably until someone can remember going to school with you.
10. And lastly do be prepared to have your breath taken away by a sunset, bird song, a view, horizontal rain when you’re curled up in front of a log fire on the wettest coldness day in winter, the taste of drop-scones cooked on an range and served with your own home-made jam, eggs from your own chickens, no street lights at night and the sight of the milky way, glow-worms, bats, badgers, a fox calling on an eerie frosty night with a full moon.

Have a go on the chicken cam (better during day unless you want to see chicken bottom)

Silly idea, but we thought we’d get the 5 chickens (now they’re all friends again) to sit still for a photo. Much comedy ensued…
However, garden’s looking nice and the hens are hilarious…

We had a bit of a shock Saturday when we discovered poor old Shash, a not-even-one-year-old chicken and much loved by all, had died and was laying on her side under the Eglu. Chickens are such funny pets and you get quickly attached to their quirky characters. Shash (aka Chicken Shashlick) was grey, soft, larger-than-the-others, always clean, very nicely tempered and liked a cuddle.
She will be much missed and has changed the dynamic of the hen coop for the worse.
Without feeling too sentimental, we had been planned to add a couple more birds to the coop and so we visited our friendly breeder and returned with 3 lovely new POL hens. Two ginger (ISA Browns) and one, like Shash, a Belle Blue.
Continuing the Indian theme we have Kulfi (following Shashlick), Shilpa (as in Shetty, the pretty one) and Twizzle on account of a cross-beak.
All hell broke loose when we tried to introduce the infidels into the 2 confused inhabitants left behind. I’m not sure they missed Shash, but they certainly didn’t like the 3 new tennants moving in. Cue much fussing, pecking, squabbling and fighting. Most of which we had to break up.
Bossy Boo had to spend the night in the “cooler” (box in the kitchen) after disgracing herself with the new ones. But tonight we somehow managed to get them settled down. It’s a bit like raising children this game.
Anyway, we miss you Shash. Long live the 5 new Hens at Sheen Poultry!

We have a problem. Maddie and Boo have been plucking their breast feathers out. We’re not sure why. Maybe they’re making themselves ready for the basting oil and sage & onion stuffing.
Apparently, chickens do this when they’re broody – when they’re incubating eggs it helps if their warm skin can make direct contact with the egg and keep it at the right temperature. They can also do this when they’re bored or when they’re moulting. We hope neither of these are true.
Anyway, we’re keeping an eye on them and spraying them with “anti-peck spray”. Spoilt little brats.
Hopefully the feathers will return soon since we’re in the coldest winter in 13 years (i am reliably informed)

If you’re lucky enough to get some free eggs from Maddie, Shash and Boo, you might get a new egg-box label:

Another blog about chickens in London – worth a read.

Hens in the city