Fox alert

I’m off to see the house on Saturday. I’m picking up the keys to view the property in the afternoon. (Hmmm, that has a nice ring to it, maybe we’ll be “picking up the keys” for good soon?!) I’m very excited. But also realise I may get there and it really, really may not be what we’re looking for… I also can’t deny being thrilled at the thought of going back to Cornwall…

We’re at war with a fox. Dramatic I know but true nonetheless. The little bastard was in the garden watching and sniffing the chickens THREE times this morning. Myself and my partner can’t seem to scare him off (which is amazing because I can look particularly scary when I’ve just woken up) but when we go our there waving our arms and spitting out invectives (not too loud, there’s the neighbours to think about) he quite literally saunters off. The dog is far more effective as a deterrent, flinging himself as he does at the foxy intruder barking and slavering. The fox moves then with a speed rarely seen in anything with less than a V8 engine.

We think Tabitha (who laid a little egg for us!) is being bullied by Martha. Its true Martha has what Jewish folk would call chutzpah, but I don’t like to think of her picking on poor Tabitha who is the youngest of the trio. We’re keeping a close eye and taking a zero-tolerance approach to bullying... although how you discipline a chicken is anyone's guess...

I finished my job application - wish me luck!