I am Not Going to Scream

I am keeping calm and carrying on ...

And just letting you know that I haven't done the prize draw yet. I've been trying to update my website all day but Mr Site had other ideas. It's just lucky that Mr Marmalade wasn't here.

I am intending to do the draw for my giveaway tomorrow when my brain is less addled by HTML code and web stupidsims.

I will end this short post on a happy thought. After venturing into the empty chicken run yesterday, Mr Marmalade had to have TWO SHOWERS to get rid of the mites which had leapt onto him in a feeding frenzy - having been starved for a week from nice plump chicken. You see how bad the problem was?

Luckily, I have been rescued from the depths of chicken-house despair by the prospect of having one of these ...


Diana (who's nephew makes them) reminded me about them. I know that Gina has one. They seem to be the best option for hens if you don't want an Eglu. Which I don't.

So ... I am saving up for one and I am happy with that thought.

Make Bags not War

Just before Jimmy left for his army cadet camp this weekend, he gave me a 'present.' It had been stuffed in the bottom of his school bag for godknowshowlong, and it was only upon packing for said camp that it was discovered. He made it in his textiles class at school

I wish he was as enthusiastic about sewing as he is about running around a field with a gun! I can hardly beleive that this is my little baby - now after only 13 years, a good 2 inches taller than me.

Meanwhile, Mr Marmalade and I spent the weekend engaged in our own war against chicken terror. We have tried everything to remove the torment which has invaded the hen house. We have scrubbed and sprayed, and dusted and cleaned, but still the red mites are alive and biting. Eggy and Peggy will not entertain the idea of temporary accommodation and still they pick and peck and scratch and itch. I have trawled the internet for information and searched the shops for solutions. Know your enemy is what I say! I've bought red mite spray, red mite powder, jeyes fluid (urgh!), vinegar and even coke. Still they creep and crawl and the house and garden now smells very 'carbolic'. However, my saving grace may have arrived as today I have taken delivery of a red mite WMD. Biological rather than chemical warfare must be the solution! Oh yes. Diatomaceious Earth.... or fossilised algae. Those mites better watch out! If you've got chickens, you better get some too.
On a brighter note, there has been a little crafting going on here, because it was also Mr Marmalade's birthday this weekend. I bought him some very sharp carving tools so that he has something to do with his hands when we are on holiday. They didn't come with any 'protection' so I made him a very sturdy and hardwearing pouch from a double layer of denim and some leather.
I'm not sure if he likes the leopardskin trim but I am very impressed with his first ever spoon!!

Pneumatic Hens?

It seems that Eggy and Peggy may have hidden depths.  They could even be killer chickens, if you're under 5 or over 65.   Infact, they had been nicknamed by my neighbour a while ago "The Queen Street Two" which does seem like quite a menacing tag!

It's Jimmy's job to tend to their daily requirements, food, water, egg collection ... and on seeing his x-ray results today, the doctor, looking quite perplexed, told me that the strain of pneumonia that Jimmy had contracted, is normally passed on by birds ...  "do you have any birds?" he enquired... "Chickens" said I ... the doctor then asked if there were any budgies or the like living in the household ... 'nope, just chickens'.  It was difficult for me to tell if he counted chickens as birds or not, perhaps he didn't like to say ...

Ofcourse Jimmy is delighted as whether it was them or not, he sees this as one less chore for him, and I have to admit that I am a bit reluctant to ask him to resume his chickenly duties when he is fully better... Mr Marmalade isn't being at all helpful either, he's convinced that "pneumonia" really means 'bird flu'!  I'm thinking that maybe it was the big fat pigeons' fault .. I guess we'll never know which bird was the culprit - I'm eyeing them all with suspicion!

Except Mr and Mrs Robin ofcourse.  On my way back from the chicken coop this afternoon, look what I spied in the Honeysuckle bush...