Mr Dear looked thoughtful as he came in the kitchen door from the garden.
‘Where have you been?’ I said. ‘Your coffee is getting cold.’
‘I’ve been talking to the chickens.’
Of course he had. What a silly question.
‘Long chat, was it?’ I wondered. ‘Did they have much news?’
‘Give over,’ said Mr D. ‘I often chat to the chickens.’
‘I know, and I sometimes wonder whether it’s entirely healthy. Let me warn you, if I ever catch you in the greenhouse and talking to the
