From a life in the corporate world to a small farm. My new work colleagues eat grass or lay eggs. I've got a lot to learn about things that just seem to happen when nature becomes your new boss.
Thursday, 11 May 2017
Room for the chickens up top
Ok, this is not my bed. But it was a bed I stayed in at a Bed and Breakfast recently run by a couple with exceptional taste in furnishings. But I'm not just talking about a few quilted cushions and matching tassels, this mattress was the supreme being of all mattresses. And now I'm ruined for life, alas no other mattress will ever be as good. We couldn't have a bed like this in our house. Firstly we have sloping ceilings in our upstairs rooms which would mean that the canopy would be more like a shelf just above your head. And the curtains would be problematic for us too, as Max would be swinging from them on most mornings. This bed was at a considerable height and we were warned that a step ladder is often required to hoist one's self on top of this pocket spring, latex covered surface of loveliness. And way too high for a sneaky cocker spaniel to leap onto whenever I'm not looking. It's a dead giveaway when Bennie's been sleeping on the bed as he likes to put his backside up against the pillows and kicks out the ones he doesn't like. Clean sheets and doggies smells. Yes, that would be a great accommodation offering. Our house in its present form would fail as a bed and breakfast. The rooster population rise early and sometimes can be heard as early as 2am (get a watch guys...) and Max starts the strangled cat wailing in the passage about 5am. Bennie wakes up like something out of a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, all singing and dancing going full pelt down the stairs and crashing at the bottom. And then there's drive through Minnie screaming at you through the kitchen window when you do surface. So that's why occasionally, just occasionally we like a night away. Thank you Devonport Grand B&B.