I had a really nice time down at the in-laws, mind you, we always do. I went strawberry picking on Giulias allotment, managed to nearly kill myself attempting to water the beans and things (I’m so weak and pitiful *sigh* I’m also not really made for outdoor work – the first sign of any insectoid scurrying had me backing off sharpish with many a yelp.. I’ve said I’d be best going back when they do the digging, I’ll just shift all the rocks and thing *grin*)

In fact the whole Watford experience was marred only by the attack.
Yup, yours truly was attacked, I also now have a scar as a result of the attack – just a small one, but it’s there.

I woke up before Stef for a change and bimbled downstairs, saw the note from Giulia asking him to let the chickens out so I thought I’d do it. Wandered down the garden in my nightie, opened up the big door and watched the cockeral chivvy his ladies outside, a few minutes later I realised I’d opened the wrong door and so I went back down the garden to remedy this – that’s when he struck.

I could do nothing to fend him off, I’m there in my nightie he’s there with his beak and his claws..
Seriously – I ran back up the garden path like a bat out of hell, the feckin’ cockeral chasing me the whole way. Little bastard drew blood as well.
Never again, he can sit in the roost and COOK before I’ll think about letting him out again.
He was laughing at me all day – I just know it.