It's bizarre, but in the nature of blogging, to move from the macro to the micro, the painful implications of strike action and inaction to, well (sorry, I can't resist this) chickens coming home to roost. Only our nameless hen wasn't roosting, she was brooding over a clutch of eggs. Alas, they began hatching yesterday in the midst of foul, nasty, windy and cold weather, and most of the morning was spent in attempted resuscitation, having hauled hen, remaining eggs and swooning chicks into the kitchen.
Next, I was informed by assembled family that the most suitable place for three chicks (we lost one) and hen to recuperate was in my office, studio, Barn of Bannocks, call it what you will. Which is why today's TM Show will doubtless resonate the sound of, ahem, chirping and cheeping. But not, of course, any kind of chirpy cheep-cheep. Or, in the case of my wife's new car, a rather chirpy but very cheap Jeep. Of which more another time.
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