Molly's Retreat

Anyway, after lying down again, I go into shock and start shaking uncontrollably for the next half an hour. Nurse Mandy is suitable crap in a crisis and keeps asking me what to do. I was in too much pain to give her nursing advice so decided that a trip to hospital was the best bet.

Taxi there and back = £20 = ouch.

Waiting room was empty for half an hour, then the local nutter turns up having been dropped off by the police.

"Why are you here?" the receptionist asks him.

"The police dropped me off," he slurrs.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nuthin."

"Well, why did they drop you off?"

"They said I needed to see a doctor. Can you make me a coffee and get me a cigarette?" he says before storming outside in a huff.

I cringe into my seat hoping he doesn't return.

The x-rays showed no break. I've just done some soft-tissue damage. Great. Still hurts like hell though.

Ibuprofen and rest for it is the best solution.

So, that's why when Emily cries tonight, I'm pulling the covers over my head and pretending not to hear her.

We have converted our old shed into a chicken coop and have three beautiful hens in residence.

They're 15 weeks and will start laying eggs in about 5 weeks time. This means I will have to eat more eggy bread than usual.

Emily's very excited (how I resisted the pun I don't know). Every morning she comes with one of us to let them out into the run and she bends down and starts trying to feed them. Then she sticks her hand in the chicken shit and we have to clean her up, but hey she'll learn.

Read more about how we managed this fantastic feat of domestic farmery here.