Double the investment...

Not since I was a child have I seen a double yolker and, on Tuesday, we got one each. Now that's what I call a return on the investment.
Needless to say, they were bloody lovely, and gone in seconds!

Co bylo pierwsze kura czy jajko?

Well, for us the chickens came first. We picked them up from a guy in Leyland who carried them over to the boot of the car by their legs, puffing on a pipe, his big gold earring glinting in the weak sun. They won't lay for two weeks, he said, but it was almost four before I found a small, perfectly egg-shaped egg on the floor of their hut. I was amazed and excited and rang Agnieszka to tell her. She had it for breakfast the next day.
Having chickens is really nice. Whenever you go out the back door they rush to the end of the run, expecting grain or other treats. When I try to get into the run, to replenish their food or water, they all make a break for it, to chew on the pathetic-looking broccoli or to trample my salads. Most worrying is their obsession with the rhubarb, which they try to demolish before I can move them on.
So far two of them are laying, with the third just wandering around scratching and making a mess. They have completely ignored the purpose-built sand-pit I gave them to dust bath in, choosing instead to eat the sand and crap on the roof. To bathe they have dug a pit in the corner of the run and flick soil over everything.
While I argued with myself that they have enough room, I am still not wholly comfortable with their accommodation. I would like them to have more room, a bit of grass to play on, somewhere they can wander about in. However, I am also trying to learn about them and their needs so that, when the time comes that we have a nice big garden, I know what I am doing.
We still haven’t named them, though. Nothing seemed to come to mind when we got them and, now we have had them a month, there’s still not been any inspiration. They’re known collectively as ‘students’ because, after they are let out in a morning, they have a drink and some breakfast and then go back inside (and presumably to sleep) for a couple of hours before emerging again some time later in the morning.
One thing I have realised is how tied we are now. If we can’t find anyone to look after them we are going to struggle with time away from the house, even for a weekend. It’s one thing reading how tying animals are, and quite another to have it hit you when they arrive. I’m glad I am finding this out now and with chickens, rather than later with a cow or two.

Easter brunch: a bit of breakfast, a bit of lunch...

We were talking at work and Helen, the secretary, asked if we had many eggs at home, in readiness for Easter.

‘We must have about thirty altogether,’ I said, thinking of the fridge full of them.

‘Not real ones,’ she screeched, ‘I’m talking about chocolate ones!’

Therein lies the difference between English Easter and Polish Easter. In Poland, the run-up to Easter is one of anticipation. Good Friday and Easter Saturday are days of fasting – in that they are days without meat – which makes the Easter breakfast all the more special. In England it’s just an excuse for a country with a high proportion of obese / greedy people to eat lots more chocolate. I have heard that some people start stuffing their faces with chocolate eggs on Good Friday. Why? Are people really so ignorant that they do not know what Easter is about? So how did we prepare? The week before we visited the Polish shop on Derby Street in Bolton and stocked up on white sausage and ham and then I popped around the corner from work to the Polish shop in Manchester to get more white sausage in case that wasn’t enough. I like the shop near work, it’s one where the girl doesn’t – or claims she doesn’t – speak English, so I am forced to remember words and practice what I know. She asked me on this visit if I wanted some cake but as Agnieszka had plans I had to say no. Who, in their right mind, would buy a dry and crappy shop-bought cake when they have a wife who makes succulent, tasty, moorish cakes at home? Not me. As part of the table decoration, Agnieszka crocheted some little chickens that looked very cute but didn’t understand they were supposed to sit on the eggs, they insisted on slipping off. The table was full on Easter Sunday: ham, sausage, boiled eggs, cheese, tomatoes, gherkins, onions and I baked some rolls so that we would have fresh bread. A bunch of daffodils added some further colour. My mum and dad were invited and arrived with their own chairs as we only have two. It was a lovely meal and made me look forward to a year that should be full of joy and, hopefully, less trials than the last one.
The cake was a roulade-type, made with honey and spread inside with yoghurt before being rolled and covered in chocolate. It was – because it didn’t last very long – one of the most succulent and tasty cakes I have ever eaten. Even so, it still comes second to my favourite – the apple cake. We haven't had one of those for a while... hint hint.

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