16 - You are not eating my girls

Image below - Sugar Plum

"Hello Sugar Plum, its me Scrum" I say to my husband, who is in England working. "Can't wait for you to come back home, I have a terrific surprise for you" I say enthusiastically. "Really, what's that then"? - "sorry can't say, as I said its a surprise". "Give us a clue then" he says sounding exasperated. "Nope". "If its anything to do with Tractors or Food, I'm interested, am I close" he says. Oh dear he is close - but I'm not for having my girls eaten. "You will see tomorrow, when you get back here" rapidly, I change the subject and remind him that his Sister Pauline and John our Brother Inlaw are arriving in a couple of days time and start to talk menu's. He bounces back "will they like the surprise". "Undoubtedly but Sugar Plum can we please talk menu's"?...

Sugar Plum arrives back home on time and he is beaming from ear to ear. "So where is this surprise" he says. "Whatever happened to Hello darling, how have you been, big hugs and kisses" I say, with fist clenched, "Oh yes, I forgot", then wraps his engineering arms around me, pats me with his dinner plate size hands and plants a smackeroo on my forehead. I wriggle out of this vice like grip, grab one of his dinner plate hands and drag him out to Hen Pen Garden. "There you are, our four new babies, all hens". I smile enthusiastically, hoping that he will be pleased with the family increase. The four new chicks were as yesterday huddled together by the fence, still feeling insecure and possible afraid of the older chickens. "Don't you think they look so cute and they are only eight weeks old". "Yes, you have done well and they look in good nick, but more importantly, when can we eat them"? I give him that How very dare you look and say as much. "No one is for eating my chicks", I elbow him in annoyance and start to walk away. Oh no - here come those dinner plates again but I walk a little faster. "Scrummy" - he says "stop, lets just talk about this sensibly". I know what sensible is with this guy all black and white, and engineering matter in between. He wants to eat these lovely chicks and I cannot argue with him, we had the "living the good life" conversations many time before we moved to France. Right now I just cannot be faced with this side of the good life. It was so much easier to go into Tesco's and pick up a ready prepared chicken to roast, even if they were battery hens. "I must get my head out of this time warp", I tell myself. He continues but I am not wanting the discussion, I know its me that has to get real and also how do I approach this with my lovely daughters who will be here in two weeks time "Chickens taste so much better if you rear them yourself" he persists, "and so says everyone else Sugar Plum, but for now haven't you got a dead tree to chop down"?...