Posts Tagged use for baked potato

I Used To Wear High Heels

As I sit here typing this short post and listening to my dogs expelling the noxious gases that have resulted from them eating all the fallen plums in the garden, I find myself reflecting on how the townie I once was could have ended up in rural France with too many dogs, cats and chickens.

You may remember the cockerel, Darth.  I included a bit about him in a previous post when I was researching humane ways to put him out of his misery as he kept falling over and having problems getting up again.  Having rejected the suggested methods, one of which was putting him in a bucket attached to the exhaust pipe of the car, I decided to let nature take its course and see what happened.  Fifteen months later he is still strutting around and making a racket – maybe somebody tipped him off to what I was thinking.

CockerelAged 9

Mlle. Tialys the Younger phoned me when I was at my friend’s house the other day because, on one of her rare trips into the light of day, she noticed Darth was falling over again.  When I got home I had a look at him and realised his spurs had grown so long he had to perform a ridiculous high step to get one leg past the other without impaling himself on them.  I Googled.  I put on my waterproof walking trousers in case of blood or chicken poo, armed myself with a thick towel, virginal garden gloves (Mr. Tialys buys me them in the hope that I might actually do some gardening), the dogs’ nail clippers, some kitchen roll, some disinfectant and one of these –

Baked Potato

Well, my one wasn’t cut open and didn’t have butter on it but a baked potato it was.

As directed on YouTube, I stuck the overgrown spurs of my astounded cockerel into hot potatoes (I took two up with me – one for each leg), patiently waited a few minutes and then had a bit of a twist with the nail clippers.  I should have had pliers but couldn’t find them in Mr. T’s fiendishly disorganised shed.  I didn’t think anything was going to happen but then, suddenly, I felt it give and I got myself a little trophy.

Removed chicken spur

(cotton reel for scale)

This procedure exposed a couple of little bloody stumps  which I squirted with animal disinfectant and, almost immediately, he appeared much more comfortable.

If you had known me back in the day, you would never, ever have believed this was the sort of thing I would end up doing.

Ain’t life funny?

A short post (for me) as I’m off on my holiday soon and I didn’t want you to think I’d given up blogging as I gave up Facebook this week (not difficult) but that’s another story for another time.

Hasta la vista (guess where I’m going).

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