Lunch and Chickens

Last Sunday heralded the last day of Toni and Phil's visit to Oxford. Boo. So we decided to have a chilled day which consisted of going out to lunch at the Old Fisherman Inn, in Shabbington. Moi? Eating out? Again? It's a bloody disgrace. At this rate my kitchen will fall into a state of dereliction [note to self: check on the kitchen when I get home].

Pic.No.1. Me and the Tonster

 Pic.No.2. Inside the Old Fishermans Inn

Pic.No.3. After lunch, tea was served in my garden

It had been great fun, and although I attempted to persuade them to stay for the bank holiday Monday as well, they said they had to get back. You deserters you, I say!

As I was waving them goodbye, with a promise to return soon, I saw my next door neighbour in her garden. She is German and lovely. Once Phil and Toni had gone, I sauntered over to chat with her.

My neighbour has chickens and keeps me supplied with fresh eggs. After chatting about the feathery blobs for a while, I mentioned how handy it was having them in her back garden, adding that if she felt peckish, she could just go outside and lop one of their heads off and bung it on the barbeque. Turns out she keeps them as pets, and  her children have named them.... oops.