Just a quicky - budgetary restraints and a severely underfunded local library are preventing me from investing in Sarah Raven’s Cutting Garden book. So I thought I would write a post here in the hope that someone has some fantastic ideas of cut and come again flowers that I can grow. I have already allocated some space for Dahlias, but above and beyond this I’ve failed to do any decent amount of research into this ‘genre’ of gardening. So any suggestions are most welcome!

WOW!

Thanks largely in part to Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s ‘Chicken Out’ campaign on his Chan4 programme ‘Hugh’s Chicken Run‘, according to The Independent, sales of broiler chicken are down by 10 million. That’s an incredible amount. Still a long way to go, but what a start! It seems the move to more people buying free range has not been a kneejerk reaction or a flash in the pan, the change appears to be here to stay. Result!

In order for consumers to really make a choice about what they buy, they need to know all the facts, and see the evidence. That’s something you just don’t get from supermarkets. I do wish they’d try and source their meat more locally, so that not only butchers and farm shops are the ones to tell you where your meat comes from and the conditions it was reared in. People should care about the life of the animal before they eat it, they should give thanks for it’s life and what it’s providing them with but somehow our culture has removed itself from the reality of what eating meat really means.

Rich and I went to the cinema last night, and walked past a KFC that even at gone 10pm was still pretty full. Silly people stuffing their faces, not a care in the world. I wish I was brave enough to engage them in conversation about it (I resort to death stares and loud passing comments before I run off), but I think they’d just think I was attacking them rather than being constructive.

The Independent thought that Tesco’s £1.99 chicken was in part an attempt to try and clear the surplus broiler (’standard’) chickens from their shelves and warehouses. I can’t help but feel it was an underhand attempt by Tesco to stick two fingers up to the consumer behind their backs, and assert their control over consumer choice. As if to you “you think you can implement change, but you cannot, we’ll always do what we want, we control the market and the demand for certain products”.

The thing is we have a generation that’s so far removed from the realities of the meat industry and all that it entails, so should they be trusted to make a properly informed decision regarding their meat, and more to the point, do they really care? This is why in some ways, I think the Government forcing their hand and creating legislation to improve the welfare of farm animals should be a priority. Consumer choice is limited by the monopolising Powers That Be (Tesco et al) and their own ethics. Legislation by the government may lead to them being called a ‘Nanny State’, but let’s face it, that’s because some people do need nannying.

It’s a miserable day outside, not very motivational weather. I’m having problems with my motivation at the moment, I think it’s mostly to do with the fact that I’m a complete night owl and never go to bed ‘on time’. On time being a reasonable time that most others would go to bed. It really messes the start of my day up as I find it hard to drag myself out of bed and stay up.

So I’m changing my habits as of today. Think of it as a nod to the leap year, today being 29th of Feb and all. A chance to mark the day when I started working harder and getting some sort of consistency and routine in my life! Working from home is great, but you have to be about six million times more committed and self-discplined than normal in order to really make it work. I’ve been naughty and spend far too much time floating around daydreaming.

So this is how it goes - I get up, I stay up and I get my work done in the mornings. I eat a proper home-made lunch and then the rest of the day is mine for doing something fun but constructive. Goodness knows the Smallest Smallholding has been in a state of stasis for weeks now, completely and utterly down to me. I tried digging some more of the larger veg plot, but my back problems (thanks to falling halfway down the stairs and landing smack on my back) of late haven’t helped. So I have to do little and often, which can be a drag. Oh but listen to me! Moan moan moan! Come on woman! Sort it out!

So, the plan is that when I’m paid early next week, we’re going to take a trip to get some (FSA sourced) untreated wood and start constructing a proper container for our compost. It currently sits under the Dogwood, suffocating all the runners that have previously threatened to take over the whole of mid-Bedfordshire. But every the compost heap grows out of all control, so actually accessing the really nice compost is difficult. Plus it looks very unsightly, and although I understand so many things in the Smallest Smallholding have to be very functional, there’s nothing wrong with making them look pretty too (I’m a girl, give me a break). Another job is to finally but another border around the second veg plot that was dug out last year. I started my veg experiment with two tiny plots - and everything apart from my chantennay carrots (carrots are actually pretty hard to grow! Plus, I sowed them far too late) were a veritable success.

I’m also going to either buy the wood for my greenhouse staging or be a bit naughty and just buy it. I really really really want to get going with my seed sowing, everything is ready and waiting - compost, seed tray, loo rolls for sweet peas, potatoes chitting - so I just need somewhere to put it all. I haven’t even bought my flower seeds yet, although I’m going to try and beg, steal and borrow as many cuttings as I can, and use my own seed collections. Even just thinking about it gets my brain whirring and the seratonin pumping - my seashell cosmos that I grew from seed last year were a veritable success, and very popular with the bees well into November. I’m also going to brave the wind and dullness today and get some long-awaited shredding done. But first - as I promised myself, work first, play later!

Last night I experienced my first earthquake tremor. I was sitting downstairs on the laptop (not *on* the laptop, that would be foolish! Working on the laptop) and I heard a loud bang. I thought Rich had fallen over upstairs, or something had broken. Then there was a gradual increase in trembling and the whole house shook…for a second I thought a massive train had gone by, but as the shaking didn’t stop I realised that it was an earthquake tremor. Such a strange sensation.  I heard some of our resident blackbirds outside get a bit spooked by it too. Doesn’t appear to be any damage this morning though.

Ok, last post today, THEN I promise I shall do some work.

I was sitting on the toilet, minding my own business whilst I…did my business. I momentarily glanced to my right, as something had caught my eye. I did a double take when I realised that there was a very large, very mobile wasp idly taking a stroll along the top of my bathroom basin.

I don’t usually mind wasps - although many people view them as pests, they’re actually very welcome as a form of pest control themselves. So I don’t object to the odd one whizzing around me - I find that the less you flap, the less they bother you.

However - those that have been reading my blog for a while (come on, there must be someone?!) will remember that last summer, we had a wasp’s nest nearby, which resulted in me getting a very nasty sting.. I was up a ladder, idly snipping away at the rampant ivy, obviously ignorant of the furore I was causing in the heavens above. I only realised when one of the blighters very firmly planted a sting under my eye (cue lots of flapping, screaming, crying, pain etc). So since then I’ve been, let’s say, a little more cautious than usual around wasps. When we were doing the kitchen ceiling we saw the actual nest - a thing of absolute beauty. Just amazing - and to think, it was mostly constructed out of chewed up bits of Smallest Smallholding’s fencing.

I thought I was rather stealthy in sorting myself out, and removing myself to a safe distance. I don’t profess to know much about wasps, but I’m guessing that this rather large specimen is in fact the queen. She must have made her way up through the bathroom floorboards and emerged from the tiny gap by the bath. By the time we’d located the nest last year the pest control man had said it was late enough in the season that they’d be dying out anyway. I can safely say that 6 weeks after that, we still had wasps manically and drunkenly flying into windows and the house. Plus my sting attack. But I’m kind of glad because I just hate the idea of killing anything just because it’s not convenient (ok ok I know that a whole swarm of wasps is downright dangerous) for me.

I think my presence annoyed queenie a bit, especially when I put a big fat mug over her so I could run and grab the camera. Her abdomen started pulsating, almost wagging like a cat’s tail just before the cat swipes you. It was then that I decided it was probably best to send her on a short flight out of the window onto the roof. I imagine she’ll find a nook, cranny or suitable nesting site soon. I just hope it’s far away from me.

I am REALLY missing having a properly functioning, clean kitchen to make my food in. It’s surprising how much having a crap hole for a kitchen has put me off preparing proper meals with fresh ingredients. I love my cooking, and I can’t remember the last time I did some baking. We seem to be living with a constant thin coating of dust everywhere, and each room has either bits of car piled up in the corner, or a scattering of tools and implements cluttered about the place.

(Saying all this, Rich actually undertook a massive cleaning session, having FINALLLLLLYYY finished doing all the filling on the new kitchen ceiling. But then he announced that he still had some sanding to do. Which means more dust. I shouldn’t complain, living with a perfectionist of sorts (after all, he’s in relationship with me so he can’t be THAT much of a perfectionist) does have lots of bonuses - he may take close to forever to complete a task, but he always does a good job. )

For this reason, my house has slowly but surely declined into a pless than favourable place to spend the majority of my time. I hate it - I hate living like this. I get up in the morning and hover in the doorway of the kitchen or living room and cast my eye over the mess. Then I turn on my heel and think about all the things I can do outside or away from the house - unashamedly procrastinating and putting off the inevitable. Yes. I think it’s time I did a proper spring clean. I need to, otherwise I’m going to be swallowed up into a pit of despair, cat fluff and dust.

Working from home is great - generally I can get up when I want to, I can structure my day in a way that suits me. I can take breaks at will (and at leisure), and being flexible makes life so much easier in many ways. But despite being a complete and utter homebody, being at home for prolonged periods of time, *especially* when I’m living in (relative) squalor, is actually quite dispiriting. So it’s time I bit the bullet, pull my finger out, pull my socks up and got to it. Just going to watch some Neighbours and have lunch first. And maybe get some work done. Then I might go down to the allotment. Oh, and then I really want to do some seed sowing. Then I’ll do it.

After seemingly endless days of blazing sunshine and clear blue skies, it looks as though we’ve returned to the relative norm of grey, dull dull dull days. So thank goodness for these little gems of colour popping up in the borders, a neat little reminder of what’s on it’s way.

Actually my anticipation of the delights of spring and summer are mixed with a bit of trepidation and forboding - mostly because I don’t know how Yoko will cope with her EYP over a whole laying season. I know I seem to rattle on about EYP in almost every post, and to be honest I really don’t want to think about it. I just have to keep focusing on the fact that she managed last year, and I’ve read accounts of other people’s hens living (so far) for 2 years or more with it. So that gives me a glimmer of hope. Cynthia’s swelling doesn’t seem to be subsiding at all, despite the fact that her sour crop has all but disappeared. She’ll go to the vet either tonight or Monday, but I think in my heart of hearts, the fact that she hasn’t popped an egg out since before her moult can only mean one thing. *Big sigh*.

Apparently hens have a 5-10% chance of developing egg peritonitis - whether this accounts for sterile egg peritonitis I don’t know. I think battery hens have been bred so that these sorts of problems can be a bit more inherent and widespread - after all, as far as the industry (bastards) are concerned, the hens are useless after 12-18 months (peak production), so I guess what would (and does) happen to them after this time doesn’t really matter (I’ve also read that because pigs are slaughtered at a specific age for their meat, no one is actually sure how old they can live to). Hence why I think generally, compared to other illnesses, there seems to be a lack of understanding and treatment for sterile EYP. The only advice I’ve managed to get hold of is from other amateur henkeepers that don’t have their birds purely for production purposes. My vet always seems a bit surprised that Yoko seems to be tootling along ok.

I’ve been down on the allotment again today with Mum - I’ve let her have a portion of it as her north-facing garden is also overlooked by next door’s rampant willow and beech trees. So not all of last year’s crops were a success for her.

Down on the allotment it’s been like a voyage of discovery, unearthing treasures from the past. We had a scrabble around the ‘top’ end, where the half-dead rasberry canes are (debatable as to whether they’ll be a goer this year) and found some irises and tulips coming up. Mum found an old pot of something turned upside down and exclaimed with delight that they were a ‘find!’. She then proceeded to bag whatever they were up (some sort of bulb) and look very pleased with herself.

It’s been like my own mini version of the Lost Gardens of Heligan. Trying to piece together the story before I arrived, finding remnants and clues. Rather than being left for 80 or 90 years, it’s probably only been a matter of months, but in allotment terms, that’s long enough. Incidentally, I’ve been wanting to get hold of a DVD of the Lost Gardens of Heligan - I find the story spooky, fascinating and inspiring. It’s all very romantic, harking back to a time that always seems to possess a sort of grandness and classiness, the likes of that’ll never be experienced again. I have a couple of Heligan books, the Heligan Vegetable Bible and The Kitchen Gardens of Heligan - two interesting and recommended reads.

Anyhow I’ve declared today that I want my allotment to be the prettiest allotment on site. If we get a shed up it’ll be painted and looked after - functional AND stylish. Mum says a good border can make a lawn - I guess the same could (partly) apply to an allotment - keep the sides neat and trim and it’ll look a heck of a lot better. I want colour, variety and companion planting, so it looks full and buzzing. It’ll do everything it needs to do - growing veg, attracting handy pollinating insects, for cutting flowers - but look damned good at the same time. Sounds more like a potager when I think about it.

Cynthia is in the pet carrier, on fresh straw, in reach of water, tucked up and sleeping soundly in our bedroom. She’s on another course of nystatin and baytril, with avipro and CCF in her water to try and help her along. I picked her up to bring her inside today - she was looking so fed up and forlorn - and as I bent down to pick up my glove on the floor, her beak opened and out streamed a mass of yellowy smelly fluid. So it could be sour crop.

Our vet agreed that she’s go a slightly swollen abdomen - she said it could be the start of EYP, but it could also be many other things - bit like having bad headaches I suppose, there’s lots of things that can cause it. Anyway, we are going to review Cyn in a week after her course of treatment, and if all is still not right then she’ll go in for a general anaesthetic so they can do an exploratory surgery and a crop flush. I’ve read about the crop flush method where you massage the crop, turn the chicken upside down and flush, but I really didn’t want to do this. You can risk the chicken aspirating (inhaling the fluid into their lungs) and choking, and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take with Cynthia. Crop flushes via a small incision into the crop skin can be done, but the skin around that area doesn’t always heal well, and there’s a risk of infection. Our vet is very good, she’s always careful to explore all different avenues and always happy to answer all our questios and phonecalls. Does make life a bit easier.

So I guess it’s a bit of a waiting game to see if she gets better. She seems to like being indoors to get some peace and quiet for herself, especially since Yoko has taken to picking on her. She’ll move out of the bedroom when we go to bed, we’ll have to make her a special run in the conservatory again, it gets nice and warm in there in the day, and in the evening she can come into the living room to keep warm. The cats don’t bother her at all - a cursory glance is all she seems to get.

Guess what - I’m going back to the vet tomorrow with Cynthia. She’s just not right. As predicted she shunned my attempts at getting some bio live yoghurt into her, whilst the others gathered round and stuffed their faces with it. Pattie in particular has a penchant for bio live yoghurt, and when she’s had a bit she looks as though she has a milk moustache (see pic). Anyway as that failed miserably I resorted to putting some CCF in their water in the vague hope that it would do something good.

Rich doesn’t really agree with me, but I’m sure Cyn’s crop still isn’t right. It has definitely got food in it at the end of it day, but it’s just not packed quite as solidly as the other girls. She had such a pooey bum again that we had to give her a bath and a blow dry this afternoon. Seeing as it’s been pretty darned chilly today I think she quite enjoyed the hairdryer, she didn’t fuss about it at all. And she looked beautifully fluffy afterwards. She’s seemed a bit down in herself, but it doesn’t help that Yoko keeps picking on her.
The other thing that’s really worrying me is that she feels quite large and distended underneath, just like Yoko did. Not quite as large as Yoko got in the summer/autumn (Yoko has shrunk down to a normal size now, long may it reign), but considerably larger than Pattie (despite eating like a horse, Maureen is a stick, so she’s not a good comparison). I mean, if it *is* another case of EYP, I will be heartbroken, but there’s nothing I can do. I’m just praying that I’m just being completely and utterly paranoid and she’s just got a bit of an infection.

But the thing with hens is, you rarely go to the vets and come back with a definitive answer, unless they’ve got a half prolapsed egg hanging out of their bottoms, or bumblefoot. Everything else seems to only be diagnosable (is that even a word?) through a series of tests, prods, cultures, or some other method that leaves you hanging for days on end for the half-conclusive results. I’m just dreading the rigmarole, and I’m dreading having to do the countless phonecalls to get results, then finding out she has to go back in for some sort of investigative surgery or more tests. Having to give her maybe another course of baytril and nystatin (will be looking up homeopathic remedies). I just want it to be straightforward, treatable and non-life threatening. So you can imagine how I’m getting all wound up and anxious tonight about it. We’re going to take Pattie along as a comparison (and some company). They always think our birds are a bit thin, but ex-batts are just bred like that, with quite pronounced keels.

So…I’m not a happy bunny at the moment. I have quite a bit of work to keep me semi-occupied and in an attempt to do some healthy comfort eating have managed to munch my way through half a box of fruitful shredded wheat. I will keep the blog updated, but I’m pretty sure we’re just looking at more tests….

Happy Valentine’s Day by the way. We’re grumpy old beggars, we don’t really bother with it, bit of a commercial con unless you’re a lusty 15 year old…I think I’m losing my romanticism in my old age…