Category Archives: Country Sense

Clucky cluck

Our feathered ladies and their hen chalet!

With all the excitement of not having power for three days following the storm, I completely forgot to tell you about the latest additions to Margot’s brood, dear Reader. Our first foray into feathers…….CHICKENS!!!!

Having bulldozed Jerry into the idea, aided and abetted by Primrose and Poppy, we somehow managed to find four little hens looking for a ‘good life’ too! So off I popped in the car for the five mile drive to Alison, the ‘chicken lady’, who was a delight to meet and managed to show us all her cockerels and hens, despite suffering from a dreadful harvest injury having fallen from a ladder whilst picking apples. Only in the countryside dear Reader…! Primrose was fascinated by all the different sorts of chickens especially the Legbars and their blue eggs but most of all wanted to see Alison’s pony. With the mention of vintage tractors too, I thought that Primrose might well adopt Alison and give her own mother the heave-ho! Chickens, ponies, AND vintage tractors…….Primrose was in seventh heaven! The whole ‘putting the chickens into a box’ malarkey was hilarious and we nearly lost the four of them in the wind when Primrose opened the crate and attempted to pick one up! Finally in their cardboard box, I had visions of them escaping in the back of the Lanny as we made our way home along the country lanes….thankfully all was well and the Hampshire feathered four clucked away merrily,

SO without further ado dear Reader, I introduce to you our four clucky hybrid girls:

Primrose’s plucky Pru

Prudence (Pru for short) is Primrose’s hen and she is a Magpie. The biggest hen by far and quite feisty too! She was the first to lay on their second day with us and has already given us some beautiful double-yolked eggs. A rather wonderful treat indeed!

Our little brown girl

Henny Penny (Poppy’s girl) is a very friendly little Columbian BlackTail and comes from the same breeder who breeds hens for Prince Charles’ Highgrove estate and Waitrose! She is a poppet and really doesn’t mind the fact that she has to make do with our more rustic setting when all her little brown henny friends have gone to far grander surroundings.

Our green dotted lady

Dotty, my little hen, (a very nervous Cuckoo Speckledy) seems to be the primary escape artist and can often be found sitting on the roof of the hen house. Dot evades all human touch for now but I am intent on winning her round with mealworms!

Our rock chick!

Finally, Layla, Jerry’s chicken (spot the attempt at a comedy name from Jerry) a beautiful looking Light Sussex. So far she seems very shy and only ventures out when she spies a handful of corn being scattered. She loves to cosy up in the nesting box.

With the hens settled and exploring their new surroundings, Jerry set about erecting the electric fence. A much bigger job than Jerry and I expected. I’m afraid that Jerry spent most of an afternoon in the rain cursing me for persuading him into an adventure with livestock. To be fair to Jerry, I had tangled most of the netting and he spent an hour getting soaked to keep the hens safe at night from Mr Foxy Loxy. To add to the drama, Monty got a little too acquainted with the fence at one point and has since given it and the chickens a very wide berth!!!

Look at those beauties!!!

Two weeks in and the excitement of peeping into the nest box hasn’t waned. Each day, Primrose, Poppy and I tiptoe to the coop to see if our feathered friends have left us any eggy offerings. I have to say that even the hen’sceptic’ Jerry is mildly won over by the abundance of brown eggs! Two a day so far and some HUGE eggs have appeared considering the hens are only 24 weeks old. It is miraculous how they manage it! Happy to report that I am now completely hen obsessed and spend most mornings (at the crack of dawn standing in the chicken run in my pyjamas, coat and wellies) trying to work out who has given us an egg and who is top of the pecking order. I have also developed a rather serious habit for buying chicken paraphernalia……..well, would you expect anything less, dear Reader? In fact, I am off to buy an egg run from my favourite haunt, Garden Trading, right this minute to display our ‘egg’cellent haul in the kitchen for all to see.

Our very first boiled eggs from our own hens! Perfect!

Our very first boiled egg from our own hens! Perfect!

Plunged into darkness

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(Posted after almost 72hrs without heating, hot water, electricity…….welcome to country living!!!)

Our kitchen light

I sit here, dear Reader, writing this plunged in darkness and with the last of my computer’s feeble battery. The St Jude storm predicted to be a replica of the Great Storm of 1987 hit our little hamlet hard. Fancy naming a storm after the patron saint of lost causes?! Bound to be a corker with a name like that! I can say quite categorically that it has definitely left us feeling a bit bereft and bewildered! Although, there was no major damage to houses in the village from the fallen trees, we have no power. Yes NO ELECTRICITY……. No heating, hot water or means of cooking. The great whoosing of wind work the four of us at 04:30am and terrified that overhanging nearby trees would hit the house, we all retreated downstairs to light candles and sit it out. So when it arrived, daylight was a welcome sight despite the fact that Primrose and Poppy found the whole episode quite thrilling to be honest! Realising that power might be some time in coming back, Primrose announced that it would be like the ‘old-fashioned days’ and we set to work digging out the candles, thinking of how we would manage without the very thing which we take for granted. Jerry in his jolly green Lanny giant left for the station, only to find that there would no trains until much later in the day. Just when I thought that the entire day was going to be a write off, our dear neighbours, the Worthingtons, arrived on the doorstep with flasks of hot water for that most basic of needs…..a morning cup of cha! I was so excited that I think I made rather a silly of myself, kissing Mrs Worthington with considerable drama and exclaiming that she had saved the day (well I had been up since the wee small hours of the morning)! Turns out that their oil-fuelled Aga can be used manually whereas our oily boiler only works with the electric timers etc. Rather natty those Agas!! Mr Worthington did say that the last power outage lasted for a week……not such great news. Still, the girls and I ploughed on with our day and Jerry managed to get to the Big Smoke. Books were read, toys played with, paintings painted and quite a lot of stamping was achieved too. It was truly wonderful not to have the television on blaring Mr Tumble out from the sitting room but I really did miss my daily dose of Radio 4 if I am honest.

Walking round the village later in the day, we spied the many trees which had come down in the night and I gave a little nod to the old chap upstairs for sparing our little garden and old cottage. However, I was not impressed with the torrential rain which hit the girls, pup and I as we negotiated fallen branches along the bridleway. At one point, we had to crawl through a small gap in the leafy debris and gnarly bits of tree trunk in order to carry on to the house. As I took off the backpack which Poppy was firmly strapped into and squeezed both girls through and then myself, I did think that perhaps I had been a little barmy to try to carry out such an expedition with two small children and a wayward puppy. Thank goodness, Monty had decided to behave himself and not run away with the lead. Primrose was fabulously chirpy for once and announced that we were country girls and “This is what country girls have to do!” I marvelled that our new found country existence had changed our rather risk adverse townie tot into an intrepid explorer. “How killing!” as a ninety two year old in the village would say!

Our village is abundant with dear souls who have rallied round with flasks of hot water, offers of heating meals on their Agas and who have come to check on those who are at the mercy of the electricity engineers! Bath time was a hoot in the dark and luckily, we still had enough hot water in the tank for Poppy and Primrose to warm up after a soaking wet walk. I even managed to convince my little darlings to go to bed at 5:45pm as it was so dark here. Thankfully, my dear Mamma arrives with a camping stove in the morning and I will no doubt have to take the girls on a long drive to charge up my mobile phone as the battery is on its last legs. Keeping my fingers crossed that Jerry makes it back from London without too much difficulty too.

Still, sitting here with the log fire on and surrounded by candlelight, it has to be said that there is a kind of romance to being in deepest darkest countryside with nothing but a meagre ration pack of candles, batteries and a good book to while away the hours. I am not sure I will be saying that in another 24 hours when we still have no power but for now, dear Reader, I am enjoying the beauty of the ‘old-fashioned life’ as Primrose put it earlier. Better sign off now as looks like I need to find some more candles to keep us going this evening!

A time for harvest

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Ah autumn, there you are!

What a busy few weeks it has been! Harvest celebrations, dinner parties in the village, Primrose’s birthday, her party complete with farm animals in our garden and a hilarious moment in the dark changing a Land Rover tyre with Jerry and one of the villagers…… I am definitely ready for a rest in the dark with a large gin and tonic, dear Reader!

Autumn is rushing around too it would seem! Our little landscape is changing again and walks have become muddier and leaf-strewn. Everywhere you look, you can see that the harvest has well and truly been brought in. Gathering with all the villagers to celebrate the bounty in a neighbour’s barn, Jerry, Primrose, Poppy and I felt rather like we had stepped into ‘dreams of foregone times’ last week. Hops hanging from the ceiling, checked tablecloths and wine flowing, homemade shepherd’s pies made by the ladies of the village (and of course, yours truly) as well as crumbles galore, the whole village sat together following the Sunday service to eat, drink and generally make merry! A time honoured tradition, made even more special by the whole village singing “Happy Birthday” to Primrose. Primrose was mortified, slumping further and further down her chair until she was almost under the table! Poor love! Mind you, Primrose wasn’t the only one to blush with embarrassment that day. Asked by the village harvest committee to create a floral display for one of the church windows, I had no idea of the brief and ended up creating a rustic autumnal wreath to sit amongst a sea of really rather elegant blooms. One villager called it ‘charming’. I wondered if this was village vernacular was ‘a pile of old rubbish’. However, I did at least manage to make it all from things in our garden and although it wasn’t the most beautiful tribute to the harvest in the church, it did have a bit of Margot charm. Well, at least Jerry and the girls thought so!

Let’s hope they don’t ask me to do anything for Christmas!

Best of all, was the amazing haul of vegetables we were given as we left the harvest lunch. The village is awash with fantastic kitchen gardens, orchards and flower gardens. I shall to have to up my game seriously for next year. Squash, artichokes, potatoes, courgettes, purple and orange carrots….I could hardly carry my handbag as it was brimming with veg! Dear Reader, I had no idea that pattypans really existed outside of Beatrix Potter but here they are..

I am not sure that this is the same pattypan that Duchess was worried about eating in the veal and ham pie though! WHAT is a patty-pan?

From harvests and growing your own food……we even managed to parade (albeit briefly) as a smallholding for Primrose’s birthday party. 2 donkeys, 2 goats, 2 pigs, 2 sheep, 2 turkeys, 2 bantams, 2 call ducks, a mini colony of guinea pigs and rabbits and one extremely well behaved dog (note, dear Reader, that it was most certainly not Monty, who was kept inside for fear of him devouring a duck). A veritable mini Noah’s Ark and all in OUR GARDEN! A huge hit with children and grown ups alike. I was happy to play farmer’s wife and it did get me thinking about how marvellous it might be to rear a pig next year when we are a little more settled. Jerry nearly had a coronary when he heard the farmer who brought the livestock to the cottage, saying that he would happily give us the Kune Kune weaners he had brought that day. Apparently they do make the most delicious sausages! Considering that I have finally managed to persuade Jerry to let me have some chickens, I think that asking for a pig for Christmas might be a step too far. For now, dear Reader, for now…….!

I suppose I shall have to make do with this little piggy!

Autumn drawing nearer

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The oilman cometh!

It is completely bizarre that I found myself thinking of autumn last week when we were all basking in glorious late summer sunshine but needs must in these parts and so the oilman was a forward planning necessity! Having lived with mains sewerage and mains gas for so long, it was rather daunting knowing when to summon the oilman and how low our oil tank could get before steaming hot water would be replaced with a very cold shower! Apparently, I could have left it a bit longer…. After a demo, it would appear that if in doubt, use a large stick as oil dipstick (same as cars…I know this much) and test how far the oil comes up to on the stick to get a rough estimate as to what is left in the tank. I can just see myself now as winter draws in and it is pitch black for many more hours in the day, trying not to fall into the compost heap (right next to the oil tank) or get my Brora cardigan covered in oil as I plunge sticks into the tank and no doubt lose them. Surely that is a Jerry job?!

Tank refuelled, we addressed the next item on the list in preparation for autumn. 4 pairs of shoes and obligatory oversized uniform bought for Primrose as well as hundreds of wretched name tapes sewn in all in the nick of time as Poppy and I packed Primrose off to school for her first day. Our lovely girl was very brave and simply waved us off from the door, leaving me to run back to the car with Poppy for a little sob. Needless to say that Primrose had a fabulous day but Poppy, Monty and I were bereft of the usual jokes and japes on our morning walk and Poppy really noticed her sister’s absence.

To try and keep ourselves out of trouble whilst Primrose is out at ‘work’, Poppy and I have taken on a significant number of projects: dejunglifying the garden, clearing a space for chickens (if we can ever persuade Jerry that fresh eggs are seriously worth the effort), trying not to be chastised by the gamekeeper as Monty chases partridge and pheasants all over the place……oh, dear Reader, I could list on and on and on and on. I think that the villagers have taken US on as a project too and it is lovely getting to know all the fabulous characters in the village. All quirky and individual and keen to recruit us as part of their particular tribe! I have considerably more to do in the countryside than I ever had to do in London! A bizarre turn of events, dear Reader!

Ooh nothing more wonderful than picking your own!

First on the list, foraging for Jerry’s favourite, BLACKBERRIES!!! Poppy and I have been gleefully plunging ourselves into hedgerows in order to gather plenty of these sweet ebony jewels for a crumble or some bramble jelly. Not all of them are ready yet but the excitement of seeing them on our walks still hasn’t waned. Poppy and I did manage a little haul and miraculously, having snaffled rather a lot of them, we did have enough to make a warming plum and blackberry pudding with a couple of fallen apples thrown in for good measure. Blissfully autumnal! My Barbour and wellies have even had their first outing so autumn must be drawing nearer.

Next on the list, the chimney sweep and dear Reader, we do really need him as pigeons have been cooing down the chimney since we arrived. Imagine our shock when we found this little chap, far from home and without Mr and Mrs Pigeon to care for him. Monty barked himself hoarse trying to tell us where Master Pigeon had fallen!

Our new addition…temporary accommodation only for this one!

Primrose christened him Pecky, and was determined to help her new found friend in the form of fledgling wood pigeon on the road to recovery. She made a little bed for him, feed him wild bird seed and even made him a little water trough. Welcomed into our laundry room and allowed to roam free, Jerry was VERY quick to say that we would not be adopting any pigeons unless we were prepared to bring this one on for the pot! Primrose and I thought it best at this point to secure Pecky a speedier convalescence than we had initially planned for him. Safe in his box and on top of a very high fence post (Mr Foxy, I know your game…), we left him to bed down for the rest of the afternoon and evening. By dusk, he had fledged and Primrose was terribly disappointed that she was not going to have a pigeon pet. Thank the Lord too as pigeons are not high on my list of creatures to cuddle up to!! Don’t tell Primrose but I popped straight to the butchers the next morning after the school run. All that talk of game had put me in mind of a good recipe…..well, roasted pigeon does go remarkably with blackberry and red wine jus, dear Reader!

Autumnal bounty!

Always have biscuits

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Oooh COMBINE!

Well, dear Reader, I do apologise for my tardiness in posting but things have been blissful chaos here of late! Last week was the first week of Jerry’s daily commute back to the Big Smoke and the first week for the girls and I to brave it in the sticks alone. Quite surprisingly, the house, children, puppy and pussycats were all intact at the end of the week. I, however, needed a rather large gin! Trying to get things done in the house has been nigh on impossible, not least because the girls and I have been very distracted by all the sights and sounds around our new digs. Primrose, Poppy and I watched with glee as the combines rattled up the farm track and the fields of rapeseed disappeared. The farmer (a stereotypically grumpy farmer as described by his wife!) must have been rather bemused watching us staring at him at the edge of his field as he carried on with his harvest routine. An incredible thing for two small girls who are used to the hustle and bustle of city living. I still haven’t tired of hearing Poppy whoop with delight and yell “Tractor” from her bird’s eye view of the countryside in the backpack, every time we greet farmland at the top of the bridleway! Pure magic.

Our secret passageway towards glorious fields of wheat.

I know you are dying to hear all about the village, dear Reader and believe me, it really hasn’t disappointed. I feel like I have walked into a scene from a Jilly Cooper novel most days. Gifts of vegetables continue to flood in from the villagers, offers on cut price game birds and invitations to tea, lunch and drinks parties. I feel more sociable here than I ever did in London. Still waiting to spot Rupert Campbell Black on a sizeable stallion though….!

The slow gin looked very impressive...shame no tastings on offer.

The sloe gin looked very impressive…shame no tastings on offer.

The local village flower show proved a delight. The entries were suitably charming and the comments were hilarious……clearly a leaf taken from Paul Hollywood’s (Great British Bake Off) textbook of harsh judging. A seriously competitive business and some impressively polished silverware for the mantelpiece at stake. I hear, over the garden gate, that one year, pots of jam were marked down for lacking a doily. I stuffed a rules and regulations handbook into my ridiculously townie-sized tote to give myself necessary ammunition for next year’s show. I am determined to prove that Margot can give the bumpkins a run for their money in the jam stakes.

Monty pup has settled in well but has caused quite a stir with local dogs, landowners and has only just narrowly missed a run in with the gamekeeper. Turns out that he is rather interested in the fat little partridge who taunt him at every turn on our walks. Back to training for us and walks on a long lead for the foreseeable future. God help us when the gamekeeper releases the pheasants…. In the meantime, Monty is happily decimating local wildlife on the doorstep and devoured a live toad last week. WHOLE. I leapt in to intervene but it was too late as I watched it still wriggling as it went down. Deeply distressing but all part of nature as Jerry said when he returned from London to a wailing woman in the kitchen, worrying about karma and whether or not it might have been a prince in disguise.

As if butter wouldn’t melt….

The house is starting to take shape now and finally we unpacked a few boxes of books and it felt more like home. Dear Anthony Powell was quite right when he said “Books do furnish a room”. Jerry and I really can’t wait to light our first fire and spend our evenings curled up in its warm glow. Our life in the countryside so far seems to suit us well.

Most importantly, I have learned a few lessons in our first couple of weeks here:

1) Monty is not to be trusted off the lead here, no matter how much he gives me his best soppy spaniel face. Farmers, gamekeepers and villagers with large fields and horses do not appreciate a cheeky spaniel.

2) Expect flurries of expectant villagers all dying for a look round the house and….

3) Most importantly, always have biscuits! Seriously. With a hamlet full of folk bearing welcome gifts, biscuits and cups of tea are a necessity here.

Good Lord, I really wish I had taken some baking lessons. I seem to be constantly rushing to the next door village and will be soon know as the shortbread queen by the owners of the shop at this rate!

Margot Tries the Good Life

A chronicle of the transformation from self-confessed townie to country bumpkin