Panto Time

An early start on Saturday, much to the confusion of the geese, who are not used to getting a bucket of grain at half-past-four in the morning. I was flying down to Bristol to go back to Somerset for the weekend in order to see the Queen of the Chooks in the village panto. Got down to the airport a lot quicker than I expected, which meant that I had two hours to wait for the flight. But you know how it is; get cocky and leave that bit later and you’ll inevitably get caught in a snowdrift/flood/landslip or even a traffic jam. Still, I’d rather fester in the airport knowing I’m in time for the flight than be hurtling down the road past Loch Lomond panicking about missing the BeastlyJet. Very quiet flight down and arrived in Bristol only 45 minutes after taking off. Perhaps airliners go faster with fewer people on board as well?

Shopping for shoes on Saturday, and a couple of new books for these long dark nights.

Off in the evening to the panto, and caught up with an old chum who came down to see the show and receive sponsorship money on behalf of Water for Kids, one of the charities that the pantomime was sponsoring this year.

The show itself was great fun and went well. The Queen of the Chooks forgot some of her lines, but she claims of course that she’s not that fussed about being on stage and tells me that some of the rest of the cast cannot understand how she can say that she gets no buzz from being out there with the expectant gaze of the village upon her. Party afterwards, of course, and it was hilarious to see how all the youngsters wanted nothing more than to play the best of Queen and bob away with air guitars blazing.

Alex, who played Ben Gunn himself, gave me a copy of a CD that his band have put together. Nice energetic punky rock (nearly wrote “runky pock” but the spellchecker saved me at the last minute). I’ll post a quick “Blog This” article after this one to link to their website. The band are called Roughdawn and worth a listen.

Back home last night about half ten to find that several of the chooks had managed to get out of their pen, but had been unable to find a way back in again. The Queen of the Chooks is planning to do some serious wing-clipping when she gets up in the spring. Old Chalky won’t know what will have hit him when she starts exerting her will over him. One medium, white egg last night and one large, brown one this evening when the chooks had managed to sort themselves out again. I think the geese felt rather peeved about having been shut up in their pen all weekend with only a bucket of grain for company; they were not their usual co-operative selves this evening when I came to shut them up. Obviously a goose’s loyalty is a fragile thing and one to be nurtured, not treated lightly.

Weather today has been foul and blizzards are forecast for parts of the highlands. The morning will tell whether I’ll be able to get into work or not tomorrow, but chances are it’ll be more delights in the office rather than the garden.


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