I'm in the doghouse. Or to be more precise, the chicken coop.
Through one of my blog characters, I am guilty of libel. Now, being trained in this sort of thing, I wouldn't normally admit my mistake. However, as the character is question is Russell's Crow, I think I might stand a chance of getting away with it. Although if a cockerel in the past could be prosecuted, then I suppose it is possible for a cockerel to turn the tables and take out a private prosecution.
The thing is, you see, poor Russell's Crow is still alone. Yes, his girlfriends were slaughtered by a serial killing fox but, despite my suggestions to the contrary, they have not been replaced. Those white things I saw in the pen were indeed the ghost of hens past, the zombie chickens of yesteryear.
So I apologise for the distress I have caused poor Russell's Crow who, I am told, narrowly escaped getting his feet bitten off by the aforementioned fox. He is still crowing each morning, lord of the very little he surveys.
Me, I am off to London for the weekend with my head hanging in shame. I have a new haircut. A more defined bob with those irritating bits of hair at the front. Mr Grigg has threatened to cut them off while I am asleep.
But as my hairdresser said to me yesterday, you might be a country bumpkin but you don't have to look like one.
That's about it
Love Maddie x
PS 8,355 words so far in National Novel Writing Month. Only another 41,700 to go...
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