Just call me q

A woman contemplating life, incognito

Dear Fork… (A Letter To My No. 3 In Command Chicken)

Photo of my three BHWT ex-battery chickens with cartoon speech bubbles

Dear Fork,

I’m writing this letter to let you know that – for the last 14 months, 3 weeks and 1 day – you have bought joy to my life and entertained me with your feathery shenanigans. In fact, there have been so many funny incidents that it’s been really difficult for me to choose my top three but here they are anyway:

Do you remember, when I first got you, how you’d chase me across the lawn each morning while I was still in my nightie? Yes, it was food you were wanting – not me – but I didn’t know that, did I? No, because I was new to this chicken-keeping game.

And what about the day you attempted to de-bobble the back of my brand new jumper as I was sat cross-legged on the grass feeding Floppy, Semi and Pam? (I wondered where you’d got to, you know. You weren’t hungry, I thought; or you were scared of me. Didn’t realise that you were right behind me stripping the fibres of my prized pink woolly, bold as you like.

And I can’t tell you how many times you had me in stitches because you’d – somehow – managed to flick a dried worm, a pineapple chunk or some other tasty morsel onto your own back and then proceed to wander – totally unawares – around the garden.

Actually, that’s right. I can’t tell you, can I? No, because you passed away today day, quick as you like; peacefully and (thankfully) with no apparent pain.

But I think you know how much you meant to me, Fork, don’t you? So, have fun… wherever you are, oh, and, errr… stay c-lucky.

Love from Q x

Last photo of Fork my BHWT ex-battery chicken -  close up

I Love Ballet…


cartoon picture ballet shoes

I love to watch ballet. The grace, the poise, the elegance of the dancers; it’s so mesmerizing. But anything that involves me moving, well… then you can count me out. Yes, because movement means being noticed; movement means all eyes on you; movement means  every part of your physique being scrutinized, assessed and critiqued and I absolutely hate the thought of that. Make me the centre of attention and I freeze; I become conscious of every molecule in my body.

Are they too red? (My cheek molecules.) Are they in the right place? (My hair molecules.) Are they strong enough to hold in quite a large amount of liquid? (My bladder molecules.) It’s exhausting, I tell you. Simply exhausting.

embarrassing molecules cartoon picture

And as for getting me up on the stage? Never. Me in a tutu with a spotlight trained on me? You must be joking. Looking all serene and floaty in front of hundreds of people? Not in a million years, my friend. Oh, and then on top of all that you expect me to move? I’m sorry, but it’s just not gonna happen. No, I’m serious; my molecules simply wouldn’t allow it; they’d go rigid. In fact, you could probably tuck me under your arm after the last act and carry me off horizontally  ‘cos my body would be that stiff.

cartoon picture carrying someone horizontally under arm

But like I just said, that’s not going to happen. So I can book tickets to see Swan lake or The Nutcracker or some other suitably seasonal performance safe in the knowledge that I will be in a seat… and not moving. But just in case they decide to haul someone up from the audience (yes, alright, it’s not Panto but you never know) I think I’ll book the back row. I’d feel a heck of a lot safer.

cartoon picture of a stage

The Chicken And Snow Combo…



Well, I don’t know about you but we’ve had snow here this week and – as a result of it – I’ve learnt quite a few things about my fabulous ex-battery chickens that, prior to the snow, I absolutely did not know. Here are my top three to be going on with:


  • They are scared of the colour white. So much so that they will not step out of their hen house of their own accord under ANY circumstances.


Photo of ex-battery chicken in the snow - with cartoon speech bubble - looking terrified


  • They secretly think that they are flamingos. Personally, I think that this is because I have four fabulous Don Featherstone flamingos in my garden. (I’ll show you some time, shall I?)


Photo of chicken in the snow with a cartoon speech bubble


And last but not least…

  • They are sensationalists. (Honestly, you’ve never seen such over-reacting to a bit of snow. They really should be on the stage.)



So, there you have it. Three thing that I did not know about Floppy, Fork and Pam until we had snow. I’m so glad we did!