Chickens Make Your P's Fall Off

So yesterday I went over to Penny's house in some unpronouncable town near Pontypridd where Debbie was lurking as well, so they could get papers off me for the South Wales Crop classes that they are teaching this Saturday. Phwaw, it's all go, go, go at the moment.

Anyway, that done, and Debbie gawn 'ome, Penny, her husband, Celyn and I went to see the chickens. As you do. The Kafais own a piece of land at the back of their house, wherein strut a whole Tesco's freezer section of these birds (bwaahaahaaa!). Mustn't say such things...they lay lovely, free range, delicious eggs, which I have eaten every now and again. Yum.

So we all went to see the chickens. Celyn and I are such townies - I kept moaning about all the mud and outdooriness of it all. But it was fun watching her throw corn to them...she really enjoyed it. Penny's pigeons kept flapping around behind me, the b******s (anyone who knows me, knows I FREAK with flappy birds or butterflies or moths or bats *brrrrr*) but I braved the b****** pigeons for my art, and took a ton of photos of Celyn! Also a few of her stroking one of Penny's two big bunnies, if you'll pardon the expression.

Back at the house, I then got blamed for losing Penny's P. I had borrowed the box she had in the exchange at Gloucester 2 (which was the one that came second, made by Imogen), so that I could photograph it...but I hadn't had time. So I brought it back to her yesterday, and we were getting it ready to take the piccies in her kitchen. Well, she picked it up, plonked it on our makeshift studio (read "a couple of bits of mountboard") and there was no P on the top. "You've lost my P!!!" she cried. "I did NOT!" I said. "It must have fallen off in here" and lo and behold, it was on the floor between the living room and the kitchen. I told her it was obviously the skanky air in her neighbourhood that had made her P fall off, because it was perfectly fine at MY house. Too much chicken poo and mud has obviously contaminated the air quality, making Ps fall off willy-nilly. Skanky, poo-ridden mud air. Obviously.

I had an 'I'm the Worst Mother in the WHOLE WORLD' moment yesterday. When we were getting ready to go up to the unpronouncable town near Pontypridd, Celyn asked who was going to be there. I told her that we were going to see some of my friends and she asked if she knew them, and I carefully explained that yes, indeed, she did know Debbie because we'd been to the beach with her in the summer, and with her daughter Hannah - see this post here entitled 'Tiddly Om Pom Pom'. Well, when we got to Penny's she went into the kitchen and then back into the living room, and then literally dragged me up the stairs. I thought she needed a wee, but she popped her head in the bathroom and then came out and started heading up the hall, looking all the more distressed. "Where are you going Celyn?" I asked, quite perplexed. "I'm looking for my friends!!" she said. "What? What friends?" I replied.

And then...the awful truth dawned. In my description of our day on the beach with Debbie and Hannah that I'd seen in MY head, I failed to realise that she hadn't seen that AT ALL. She'd seen a completely different day which I blogged about here, entitled 'One More Down...'. She saw Linz's children, Sabrina and Alanna, and was all excited to see them again and play with them. And all there was was boring old Penny and boring old Debbie (no offence).

She started to cry. Not crocodile tears. Real, genuine, distraught, sadder than sad, tears pouring down her face. "Ooooooh. I don't want to play on my ooooooown."

Can you feel the guilt in the room? Stabbing, indigestion-like, smooshing all over my chest GUILT. Oh I felt so bad. Soooooooooooooo bad.

I blamed Linz of course. And she's blamed her children. So hey ho. All's well with the world again.

To make up for my worthlessness, however, Husband and I are taking Celyn for a fun lunch at Pizza Hut this very noon. Happy days!