Now, I have a board on Pinterest which is all baby birds. Feel free to check it out: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/sexdeathanddinner/baby-birds/
When my parents moved to Devon, they were quite keen on adopting as much of the countryside lifestyle as they possibly could. For my mother, that meant bake sales and flower festivals, that sort of thing. I suspect my Dad was just a fan of the slower pace of life even though, as a grafter, he wouldn’t have indulged in it for more than a few minutes before finding something that really needed doing. The point is, no matter which way you cut it, things are slower in the countryside. I’m not just talking about our broadband. Whatever is happening, there’s no hurry.
I am mad-keen on punctuality. Really. I can’t bear being late for anything. My mother used to say it was because I was born two weeks beyond my due date, but whatever it is, I need to be on time. Usually this means I’m early for everything. But with the more relaxed pace of life in Devon, it usually means that I show up for coffee twenty minutes before I’m due to see a pal, and then, when they’re delayed (which is pretty standard stuff), I panic about what’s happened to them.
Those who’ve read it will see some echoes to Fiona in book two. I’ll save you some time: Fiona’s based on me.
Anywho, my mother got into her flower arranging and gardening and there was probably a weekend when my Dad took a bit of a breather, and they loved the countryside.
But they never leaned towards chickens. Chickens have a scent (it’s pretty strong), chickens are noisy (we have neighbours) and chickens get eaten by foxes. All good reasons.
My Dad was in the RAF with Richard Briers, the actor who played Tom in ‘The Good Life’. I think my parents got animal-rearing out of their respective systems via osmosis and 1970s television.
Plus, my Gran kept chickens and rabbits during the War, to supplement their rations. Once a week, during and a little way after the War, she made dinner for everyone on their street. My Dad, a child at the time, soon learnt not to name the animals.
Rather like Fiona, I lean towards quails. I wouldn’t eat them. They’re too pretty to eat.
So, there you have it. Day 57, and not even slightly running out of steam – Quails and Other Birds.