Entertaining Mrs Miggins

Poor Mrs Miggins is really missing Mrs Bennett and this I understand completely. Therefore, I've been giving her extra attention, mostly because she's been squawking at the top of her beak and has worked out that when she does this I run into the garden to placate her with food so the neighbours don't complain about the noise. Hmmm....who is the clever one in this double act, I wonder?

Anyway, on the fourth foray of the morning (it now being 10 am) I said, "Now look here, Miggins. I have to go into town because C & H Fabric have a 20% off day and now that I'm a sewing goddess I want to get a pattern and material for a winter frock whilst it's all going cheap." "I used to do that when I was little more than an egg," said Mrs Miggins. "What, go to C & H?" I asked. The hen cast me a bit of a look. "No, go cheep," she explained, slowly and loudly like she was talking to the idiot child that I am. "Right, anyway," I said, covering my embarrassment at not getting a very simple joke by putting a bucket on my head, "I still have to go into town so I won't be able to come running every time you call. Okay?"

"No, it is not okay. I'm coming with you," Mrs Miggins declared. So then I have to hang around, looking impatiently at my watch whilst she faffs around putting on her knitted bootees and changing her choice of head gear at least four times. "Will I need my rain mac?" she asked. "It looks cloudy." "Yes," I sighed, "wear your rain mac." "You'll have to carry it if I get too hot," said Miggins. "I can't because of my lack of prehensile thumbs."

So off we set, Miggo and me. It's about 3,000 steps to C & H - for a human. For a chicken it's about 12,000. "You could always fly," I suggested. "I can only go in circles," said Mrs Miggins. "You clipped my wing, remember? I'm all off kilter."

Anyway, we stop off at the park so she can have a go on the swings which are apparently a lot nicer than the one we've got in our garden. Then she insists, despite it being October and quite chilly, on having an ice lolly from the refreshment booth and this sets her beak on edge and gives her brain freeze. We finally make it into the fabric shop and she's after everything shiny and glittery that she sets her eyes on. So embarrassing. I'd have hidden my head in shame if I wasn't still wearing the bucket I'd put on earlier.

Once we got home I showed her the pattern and fabric I'd bought. She liked the fabric but I could tell she wasn't sure about the pattern.

"What's wrong with it?" I asked. "Will my bum look big in it, do you think?"

"Probably," she said. "And now, if you don't mind, I'm feeling quite tired and I'd like to be left alone. It's an effort being with you all day.

Mrs Slocombe and Mrs Poo are arriving the day after tomorrow and with any luck chicken equilibrium will be restored. Thank goodness.