I think I might be. Channelling Madonna. I seem to be reinventing myself every five minutes just like Fab Madge.
I appear to have transformed myself into a ‘Yes’ Mama, saying ‘Yes’ to the kids’ insane demands.
” Can we have ice-cream?’ Absolutely, it is a God given right.
” Can I have socks?” For you my cherub, anything.
” Will you make dinner?” YES why not?
” I’m bleeding to death, will you take me to the hospital?” Oh! Okay, I suppose so.
Then I was healthy and health conscious woman. Walking, detoxing and now yoga? who am I? I do not know.
Never though did I see the day coming where I would say, ” I built a chicken coop”.
Young Tiktiki and I applied ourselves to the task at hand and created spacious living conditions for a chicken we are not keeping. I will admit it lacks en suite facilities, no spas, no bars, no on site gym, but we ourselves, the humans of the house do not live with such things so I don’t feel the chicken is exactly slumming it, and surely just getting out of the laundry basket has got to be a huge boost to chicken morale.
It does however feature a fabulous roll back top for easy access for feeding, cleaning and petting.
It is outside in the fresh air but safe from the predatory tanuki that comes in our garden on a Sunday night, hoping to catch five minutes of Veronica Mars.
Pictures will be available but some idiot took them without the memory stick in the camera, so until I transform myself into my 8 year old I have no idea how to get them from the camera to the computer.
Or alternatively, an easier way of doing it might just be to get said 8 year old to do it for me.
This afternoon, I shall retain the essence of this pioneering, frontierswoman, who built a chicken coop and apply myself to the task of making plum juice. I have the plums, the jar, the salt. I’m good to go, and if I can get the memory stick in the camera I can share it all with you.
Friday night though I did briefly change back to my usual knackered, burnt out self. I was falling asleep in front of the telly and should have just gone to bed, but decided I would have a bath first. So I hopped in planning to relax reading the excellent ‘ The Brooklyn Follies’ by Paul Auster.
One minute I was looking for my page, the next, 2 hours had past, the water was freezing and The Man was banging on the door to see if I was still alive. I had dropped off in the bath! My book was soaked through, no chance of it drying out, it has fallen to pieces. I shall buy it again though, it is THAT good.