Do you know sometimes I feel like I’m on trial in my own house. All he needs is a gown and a wig and he’d not be out of place in Law and Order.
It all started a year ago to the day when I collected six very bedraggled hens from the British Hen Welfare Trust. I’m sure that if you saw them you’d never eat battery-farmed chicken again but that’s an issue for another day. I brought them home and slowly, their legs strengthened and their feathers grew back. A year later, they are healthy and happy hens and if I’m honest I’m rather proud of that fact.
Along the way there have been mishaps. One died naturally, a passing dog killed one but the other day, we lost a third, my favourite. There she was foraging away in the nettles but by nightfall four had become three. I was gutted. I told Pete it could only have been a pine marten and I was very angry at the pine marten. I could immediately feel a cross-examination coming on. Cue the wig and gown.
“How do you know it was a pine marten?” (PC)
“ Because I do.” (me)
“Did you see it?” (PC)
“No but it was definitely a pine marten.” (me)
Even as the words passed my lips I could see him revving up. I could see him relishing the opportunity to apply reason and logic. To make matters worse there was no body.
“So your favourite hen is missing, there’s no body and you’ve not even seen a pine marten? On what basis are you concluding that the hen is dead and that the pine marten killed it?” (PC)
“Oh sod off.” (me)
There, the conversation was over. He sat there oh-so-damned-right and unsympathetic. I was just as angry with him as I was with the pine marten: not a glimmer of emotion on his face.
Frankly I don’t care about Pete’s logic; I just care about my hens having given them so much love, devotion and care. My hen was gone and the pine marten had taken her. The Defence Counsel gets very irritated with people who irrationally join up dots (he calls it prejudice) but I’m not people, I’m me and I’m right.
I rest my case your honour.