Which it is today.
Those who know me will already be aware that I have somewhat of a fascination with chickens, and have had for many years. For my birthday last year dear David - my quasi-nephew - bought me a pair of chickens from his friend Chris. They were duly installed into a magnificent coopy thing wot we bought from eBay, and which Oliver - in hus usual fashion - immediately named 'Cluckberry Mansions'. Someone (I think it was Graham, but I cannot be sure) even fashioned a tiny TV antenna and put it on top of this veritable poultry palace.
I am always very find of Graham when he gets whimsical. It doesn't happen very often, but when it does it is a thing of wonder to behold. Remind me one day to tell you more bits of InglisWhimsy.
But I digress.
The two chickens were named `Arabella Cluckburton` and something else I gorget, because within a few weeks it became slowly obvious that Arabella and the other one were not sisters under the skin after all, but that the divine Ms Cluckburton was shacked up (cooped up?) with The Hon. Percy Feathergirdle (as Corinna christened him).
But that was mid October, and Arabella showed no signs of developing her secondary sexual characteristics. We even wondered whether she too was a he, and would turn out to be Lord Percy's gimp, or something equally tasteful.
But today we have proof of her femininity. My little girl has grown up! Arabella laid her first egg!
The proud parents