And you are...?

I tried telling Martha off when she was picking on Tabitha but she just looked at me like I was a bit of an idiot. And to be fair, she's probably right. No eggs tonight. They're already in bed and just occasionally you can hear a contented cluck and a ruffle of feathers. Bless their chickeny socks.

I've done lots of housework this evening and have rewarded myself with a huge glass of wine and a spot of mindless telly. All is well at 88...