So I’m back.
I won’t ask if you missed me as I don’t want to acknowledge reality.
Now you’d think having been away for 2 weeks I’d be back with all guns blazing. Bursting with inspiration and ready to drop some blog gold. Well, let me burst that bubble because I need to start this return to blogging with the news that this week features a series of posts that scrape the absolute bottom of the blog posting barrel. Yes, even by my standards. Things perk up a bit towards the end of the week, but the first couple of days a peak-low. To prove that [as if I needed to, haha] here’s a post about a chicken.
That said, I will be writing about the 2 weeks I’ve just had simply because they were one of the most magical, inspirational, provocative and challenging times I’ve had in my career and I feel extremely fortunate to have that – not just because at my age, that’s increasingly rare, but because in our optimised, efficiency-obsessed industry. it’s even rarer. But that’s to come down the line …
So a few weeks ago, our Ring cameras announced someone was at the door.
Off Jill went to see who it was, except when she opened the door, instead of a human she saw – you guessed it – this:
Now I get we live in New Zealand.
I get our house is a literal treehouse.
But a chicken???
Jill didn’t know what to do with it and as it wasn’t causing any damage – except pecking at the window – she let it roam and went to pick up Otis from school instead.
But when she returned, the chicken – named ‘Nugget’ by Otis – was still there.
So then they decided they had to try and help find its home, so after putting a message on the community Facebook page – where different people ‘claimed’ it was theirs – Jill decided to put Nugget in a box [with air vents, obvs] and see if she could find who owned it.
One neighbour pointed to a house that they said had chickens, so left it at their door with a note saying that the chicken had ‘escaped’.
An hour or so later, the owners wrote to Jill to say thank you as well as enquire where we lived as they wanted to see how far Nugget had travelled to which Jill replied – and I may never, ever forgive her for this – without once writing the immortal words, “now we know why the chicken crossed the road”.
Devastated.