I am just about to cycle half a mile to the shop to get a proper free range egg. This is because I am making a cake this afternoon, and I refuse to buy nasty eggs from the corner shop, which are definitely of the battery variety. It occurs to me that if I was allowed to have chickens in the garden, this probably wouldn’t be necessary.
Plus I wouldn’t then have five other eggs sitting in the fridge door making me feel guilty for not having a plan for them.
This enhances the thought I had over the week-end that we really should move out of London soon, so that we have room for chickens, and a lovely allotment patch style vegetable garden, like wot we dug for Nige yesterday.