Bedblogging

I only remembered that I hadn't written anything as I climbed out of the bath, and now I can't recall the awfully interesting thing that I had, earlier, meant to tell you. What a pity.

Looking at the state of the lawn today rather dismayed me. The chickens have scratched up most of the grass, managing to leave only moss behind. It has acquired humps and dips, I'm not quite sure how. It really needs a lot of work to be done on it, and frankly imnot I'm not the woman to do it. In any case, there's no point while the chooks are roaming free to scratch it up again. I'm trying quite hard to put their interests first - after all, it's only a patch of grass and it doesn't matter that much. And at least there won't be any need to get the mower out.

They are certainly earning their keep at present, anyway. The Sage is very adept at watching them to find out the latest hiding places for eggs. When he spots a hen sneaking off after breakfast, he watches to see where she goes, and later checks out the place. He always leaves a marked egg so that she doesn't become suspicious. Surpluss surplus eggs are sold in the shop - there are tight controls on selling eggs not stamped now, but you're still allowed to sell your owneggs own eggs, as it were. They are very popular at 80p per half dozen.

Excuse poor typing. Can't be bothered to go back and change all mistakes. I'll do it in the morning. Goodnight, darlings.