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In which I pine for human company,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]
I am typing this on a balmy August evening, sitting in my garden overlooking the meadow (bare patch of scrub interspersed with shepherd purse) where the ponies are snuffling and blowing in what is left of the grass.
The only cloud on the horizon is that Veronica the former battery chicken is not at all well. I opened the hen house as usual to let the hens out first thing (they do love to sunbathe; bliss is written all over their beaks as they spread their moth-eaten wings), and found the floor covered in a gooey mess of entrails and blood.
I thought at first a fox had got in, and then worked out that Veronica had been bleeding from her front bottom. Do hens have miscarriages? I phoned Tara the vet, who lives in my village and was very kind and holistic when Snoopy was dying. She agreed to do a home visit. She felt V tummy, and thought it might be peritonitis or a tumour. Oh dear.
V is now on painkillers and anti-inflammatories. I wish I had had her since she was an egg; how sad that she spent two years as a battery hen,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and has enjoyed barely a year of freedom since. I have been making her special dinners: white rice is her favourite, followed by organic linguine from Carluccio
I am a bit sad,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], having a barbecue on my own. It is at times like these, when everything is bathed in sunlight, that I wish I had someone to share things with
I am at the moment having a barbecue: my own sweetcorn, courgettes,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], broad beans and potatoes. There is an owl calling from the woods. The reason I have started barbecuing is that I try to spend as much time outside as possible, so that Gracie does not poo and wee indoors. She is not getting the idea at all, which is odd,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], as she is a collie,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and super bright, more intelligent than most children.
At the moment she frolics outside, scrabbling at poor Michael nose while he shuts his eyes, then pops inside to squat, a beatific look on her little pointy face. She always has one ear up,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], one ear down. I love her so much.
At night, when I make her stay in the kitchen,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], she just sits down in the hallway,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], refusing to budge, so I have to sort of slide her back through the door on her backside. It is at times like these,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], when everything is bathed in sunlight, when the air smells fresh and sweet and all the chores of the day have been done, that I wish I had someone to share things with.
I met two men last week,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], both on the same day. I know you will find this hard to fathom, given I didn have sex until my 30s, but maybe I am emitting some sort of primeval scent, some sign that I am finally over my ex-husband and ready to move on,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], despite the fact I now have nine cats and am therefore officially undatable.
Let me describe the two men. One has a spaniel, is in his 60s,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], short, divorced,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and incredibly rich with a Bentley, a yacht and a mansion in East Sussex (note the order of the attributes there). The other is 44, has a girlfriend but is not married, is working-class,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Northern, used to be a male model but now runs his own business. He also has big, brown eyes and a hard chest beneath a polo shirt, although thank goodness he doesn dress like a teenager.
They both made a note of my e-mail address, on the same day! This must be some sort of world record. I thought there was a connection with the model I made him laugh but I can be sure. Maybe I reminded him of his nan. He looked like he be pretty dirty in bed. I have been fantasising about him, thinking how I would get him to
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