We feed Pussy, issue of our house, who now resides with him.
Our other responsibilities revolve around his chicken empire. (Five laying birds)
I wobble off on my bicycle down the hill every morning to let out his flock and check their food and water and breathe a sigh of relief that another night has passed and I will not have to explain to him how the fox managed to burrow in and massacre them all.
I am to have free use of his eggs as a reward for my neighbourliness.
At first, this was a carrot that sustained me as I peddled back up the hill twice a day, shouting at a loitering Porridge to follow me or risk being squashed by the tractor that passes by about once a month.
But the blessing has become a mixed one. Four of our hens are laying as well.
We are starting to feel oppressed by this unlooked for bounty.
Darling D and I studied recipe books yesterday and realised that we might well be forced to eat lots of chocolate puddings. We decided to have a go at a cheese soufflé for starters. I felt that this might be a useful weapon in her armoury when French friends sneer at English
It was very successful as you can see, light and fluffy, but a bit, well .......eggy.
My eyes start to bulge like boiled eggs as I contemplate having to eat yet another one of these:
Any recipes for eggs that totally disguise the fact that you are eating eggs will be welcome. I eagerly await your suggestions... please... I can't go on much longer.