Dear Ella
Happy Easter
Everything is springing into action here. Miss Otis has started laying again. We get 2 eggs every 3 days. A dozen so far. We think Edwina has retired although I can't be absolutely sure who the layer is.
Mistaken identity appears to be a recurring theme. We had a significant portion of BBC breakfast news given to the range of Pom Poms, horse dung, turnips and fruit loaf that have been mistaken as hedgehogs. In some cases, it has taken a trip to the vets for the mistake to be uncovered. It's good to know that our highly trained vets can tell the difference.
Aunt Dora is not showing her face at the moment. We had a spate of burglaries in the village and she and Alfred laid a honey trap to try and catch the thieves in the act. They deliberately left the front door slightly ajar and lodged a bucket of water so that it leaned against the door frame.
They let it be known on social media they were visiting relatives on a certain day, sat back and waited.
The vicar, who hadn't seen the post, popped round, noticed the door was open and walked in to tell Dora and Arthur there were burglars about and their house was insecure.
In addition to a thorough soaking and the present of a bucket-shaped hat, our holy father found himself trussed up like a chicken as Dora and Arthur turned him into a Maypole, accompanying their dance with loud whoops and threats of castration.
It's hard to see the funny side when you are concussed but hopefully the vicar will come round (both literally and figuratively).
Never a dull moment with those two.
Fiona
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