Right that’s it, I have had enough of this weather, where has our Summer gone? I need sunshine………

The other day, as I pretended to tidy the house whilst actually waiting for a break in the rain in order to go and clean the chicken coops I found myself wishing I was somewhere, anywhere in fact with a warmer climate.

Where would I go if I could just step on a plane without thinking about the horror that is packing to go away? I have a very relaxed attitude to packing, I hate it with such a passion that I avoid it until the very, last possible moment. There was the time many years ago when myself and The Not-Yet-Husband were traveling out to spend Easter at my soon to be parents-in-law in Cape Town. I rose early on the morning of the flight and began to pack a few books, makeup and some clothes. I threw in some shoes, a few more pairs of linen trousers and closed the case. I then set about packing for The Not-Yet-Husband, we had only been living together for a few months and so were still in that giddy everything you do is so sweet, funny or thoughtful stage. A stage which has long since passed I can assure you. So I packed for him in about 10 minutes and kept ignoring all the pacing he was doing and all the irritating questions he insisted on asking. We grabbed our passports, tickets and luggage and drove to the airport.

After a long but very pleasant flight down to Cape Town, remember this was pre-children so the flight was actually enjoyable in that I read a book, watched a film, ate passable food at normal speed and slept when I felt the need. We arrived to a lovely warm summers day and were welcomed by the in-laws for a few hours before they flew off to Namibia and The Skeleton Coast. All was well until the now Husband went to shave, shower and generally freshen up.

The first hint that anything was amiss was surprisingly quick;

” Darling which suitcase did you put my wash bag in? ” he asked

” Which¬† wash bag do you mean? ” was my sleepy response.

” I only have one ” he replied slightly edgily.

” Bugger ” I whispered, having only a hazy recollection of said wash bag and I could imagine it quite clearly in our bathroom at home.

” Is that the one will all your medicines in? ” I inquired

” Er, yes that’s the one ” came the reply.

Just to compound the matter it very swiftly became apparent that none of his underwear had made the trip with us either. In my haste to pack he had plenty of shoes including a pair, I later found out that he had not worn for ten or so years. He was also very well supplied with shorts, trousers and a jumper, but alas not for pants or any life-preserving diabetic medicines. He was forced to hurriedly borrow a fresh pair from his father once he had showered so we could go to the local Mall and find some replacements after we had also been to see the local Doctor to get all the medications that I had left on the kitchen table………

Thankfully we had two other couples who are friends of ours flying out the following day to join us and so they were able to do an emergency dash to collect the medication from our house on their way to the airport. Unsurprisingly I have not be asked to do the packing for The Husband since.

So, if I could just go anywhere, with a bag packed by someone other than myself where would I go? Look below, it’s just about perfect in my opinion. Now I just need to sell all my worldly possessions, uproot The Gaggle from school, work out how to transport twenty-two chickens and two dogs across two continents, conquer my fear of massive spiders, work out how many Tanzanian Shillings there are to the UK Pound, sell a house oh and break the news to The Husband that he is moving. I think he will take the news surprisingly well…..

Oh how I wish this was our back garden…….obviously with some chickens then it would be perfect. This is a beach on Zanzibar which unfortunately is approximately 4694 miles from where we live and significantly warmer. I was last there over ten years ago and I <<stamps feet>> want to go back. Or maybe KwaZula-Natal or Mozambique although my Portuguese is non-existent and my Swahili very basic, but I could learn……..


Oh dear…..Husband is going through a carpentry phase again………….

Imagine if you will a conversation between myself and my Husband this morning that was vaguely as follows;

Me: “some of those pullets are going to be quite large when they get to Point of Lay so I might look at coops at the next Mart”

Husband: “Don’t panic dear, I have it all in hand, I am planning on building a really big coop so that there is only one coop for you to clean and all the girls can be in the same place together and snuggle up when it gets cold”

Me: (bemused expression) “Really? That sounds like a rather large undertaking darling……….”

The voice in my head is screaming “Noooo, you have clearly taken leave of your senses and lost any sense that you were born with. How have you forgotten the removal of the wardrobes from a house we were renovating which resulted in your knocking down a wall? Or that summer evening many years ago when very heavily pregnant with Flit I thought that it would be a bonding experience for us to attempt, together, to put up the coving in the dining room. It was only the miraculous powers of half a tub of filler and five coats of paint that disguised our ineptness. Oh how the neighbours must have laughed that evening. After many hours of lively discussion about the best way to mount said coving I opened our front door at the exact moment our lovely neighbours, who in all the five years we lived beside them never so much as whispered loudly at each other; arrived home from a pleasant evening out to be greeted by the sight of me throwing your car keys into the flower bed and peppering the night air with some agricultural language.

Or who could forget Curtain Pole Gate?” Upon finding out that our usual ‘man who can do all the things that Husband can’t’ was busy and we had a clutch of viewers lined up for the following day, Husband attempted to hang a curtain pole in our newly constructed and freshly decorated bedroom. After over an hour had passed with an amazing amount of drilling, I could contain myself no longer and so armed with a reviving cup of tea I went upstairs to check on his progress. The bed was festooned with a spirit level, a drill and a tool box and there were screws all over the floor. Husbands face said all was not going well. Then I looked at the curtain pole which was listing from side to side at such an angle it appeared we were actually in the middle of a force nine gale. If I had affixed the curtains to the pole they would have fallen off and formed a large puddle on the floor. In between howls of laughter from me I am ashamed to say, I managed to plead with our ‘usual man who can’ and happily he arrived the following morning just after 7am to perform life saving surgery on the curtain pole. None of the viewers that afternoon were any the wiser as to the previous days traumas. He may be many things but being handy around the house is most certainly not one of them.

So when Husband went out to get a copy of The Telegraph this morning I spoke to The Gaggle and informed them of their Father’s intentions to build a coop, Flit the oldest replied “I really don’t think it is a very wise plan”. Bean, started to shake her head and muttered “Oh dear no?” whilst Rhino carried on eating a Brioche with far too much jam in it, in a way only the young and carefree can manage during worrying times.

So how do I stop my husband from attempting this act of lunacy? I fear that if he starts building a coop it will take many months and probably cost more than if we commissioned Viscount Linley himself to make it. I am also acutely aware that very soon our garden would resemble a Saw Mill. So I have decide that the only possible courses of action open to me are to either hide his saw and tool box or to consider asking our electricity provider to cut us off……candles at bedtime and no television for a few months seems like a small price to pay to avoid the inevitable coop building project I think.

This is what Husband thinks he would produce…….after 6 months labour and a budget of approximately ¬£2,347.83p….I have my doubts.