Kitchen closed!

The kitchen at Rock HQ is closed.

The heart of the house is out of bounds while we wait for scientists from Porton Down to come and clear away the debris from a new terror weapon that went off while I was making supper.

The day has been routine enough, the usual mishaps that liven up the otherwise dull life of the smallholder. Things like discovering the goats were two fields away and heading West just as we were getting in the car to go to work. Picture Tracey in her posh togs and wellies chasing across the fields and persuading five goats back our side of the boundary whilst I sort out a tether system designed to curtail Juliet's newly found desire to explore the world without it strangling her.

I have to commend Tracey's extraordinary patience at times like this, I have to admit to not being so patient tonight when after finally coaxing all the goats off the cottage roof and into the stable for a good nights sleep, or rather a night where they are not tempted to form a pile of horns and fur under our bedroom window and bleat plaintively for us to come out and play, an endearing feature especially at three in the morning, one goat remained rooftop and was only helped down with a well aimed potato when all attempts to plead to its better nature failed. (No potatoes were harmed during this drama and goats do not have a better nature)

Anyway after opening the door to put the ducks away, shutting in the chicken who got out when the ducks went in, getting the duck out of the kennel, getting the dogs back in the kennels after getting the duck out, rounding up the sheep who got out while I got the dogs back and assisting the goats off the roof the last thing I expected was to be attacked in our kitchen.

The chickens have started laying terror weapons.

Supper was a simple fayre, a fried egg sandwich. For many years I have broken the egg into a cup or similar to view it before using it, its something my Nan and Mum always did so I do it. Its been habit, I never ever found it achieved anything except perhaps catching the odd bit of shell and creating extra washing up. Tonight I broke and egg and the resulting explosion cleared the kitchen of all life forms that possess the sense of smell. It went bang louder than the bottle of elder flower champagne that shattered my eardrum and added decorate kitchen to the never ending jobs list last year. First I was startled by the noise and wondered where the foul smelling slime that now covered me came from. I did think about blaming it on the dogs but they had already fled. Tracey set up a mobile decontamination unit and alerted the authorities of the bio hazard I had unwittingly unleashed at Rock HQ.

Supper was a glass of juice, it was safer.