Today, my beautiful rescued ex-battery hens, Pie and Noodles, were both euthanised after struggling with egg peritonitis.

Whilst poor Noodles had been fighting this on and off for months, Pie suddenly succumbed and after just a month, was too sick to hold her own weight.

This condition is very common in rescued hens, as they are kept captive in artificial light for 24 hours a day to make them produce more than double the amount of eggs a hen would normally produce in a year.

After a year, they are put to death, unless rescued.

As I farewelled them, I spoke to them each and thanked them for their eggs, their antics and their chookiness. A mixture of cleverness, stupidity and sheer determination, they each left a little mark on our lives. I reminded Pie of  how she loved riding around on the basket on TFM’s bike. I reminded Noodles of how she ‘played dead’ in the yard, wings akimbo, legs straight up in the air, giving us all – and many visitors – more than one heart attack. They both clucked softly as I finished speaking. They knew. They thanked me in return, from saving them from a battery hens usual fate.

So long Pie, farewell Noodles, you were good, good chooks and I am glad you had a happy and free life in my backyard. You’ll be missed.

Today was the day that the driveway was to be laid.

Today was the day the bobcat would come, excavate the old, cracked, been here for 30 years driveway, and put it into the skip to be taken away.

Today was the day the concrete truck would arrive, and the clever concreters would make a big-but-good mess leaving me with a nice new driveway from which we could traverse to and from our dusty old beach house.

Today.

Instead, today was the day the bobcat arrived and on the first chomp, snapped it’s chopper-upper. (I am a gurl, I know not what these things are called. Nor do I care to.)

Today was the day the bobcat driver waited for a welder to come along and weld the chopper-upper, only to then chomp into the next bite of driveway and eat the mains water pipe.

Today was the day the mains water pipe became a fountain in the middle of the driveway crossover and we had a water feature for show out the front of the dusty old beach house.

After they shut off the water, the chomper-upper really came into its own. It chomped up the telephone line cable as retribution for having had to wait for the water fountain to be fixed. It then bogged in the mud left from the impromptu water feature and while the concreter, welder, telephone line repair crew (it takes 3, apparently) and several neighbours looked on, the chomper-upper ate through the storm water returns pipe.

Then it started to rain.

So the concreter, the welder, the telephone repair crew, the bobcat driver, the chomper-upper, 3 concrete stencilers and the neighbours all went home to their nice, dry houses and left me with this. 

I guess I’ll wait for the plumber to swing by at some stage today to reconnect the water supply, hey guys?

Along with a group of Brisbane Food bloggers, I went along to a ‘beef appreciation course’ at the amazing superbutcher.

What an amazing event.

Out the back of the huge Eagle Farm outlet, we gathered in a huge cold room. (Without the cold room freezer on, although it was still cold!). A table for 20 plus was laid, and there were beef cuts laid out on viewing tables, sides of aged beef hanging, dried aged beef on the table, a huge weber, and a lot of very sharp knives.

Andrew McDonald led the event, and amongst many other things, took us through the 9 grades of beef. (Because I have no photos to share, I am sharing 2 of the videos filmed on the night.)

Chef Karl Knack prepared tastes of different cuts of beef, filleted from the side in front of us then sizzled and served. In order, we sampled 150 day aged grain, Tasmanian MSA porterhouse, Black Angus porterhouse, Wagyu Porterhouse.

The night was topped with a wonderful meal of Cape Grimm eye fillet, with a 2-3 marble count. This was served with a mashed potato, baby tomatoes and a jus – as you can see in the clip, it was mouth watering.

During the evening, we were offered various cheeses, crackers, and icy cold beer or table water. Andrew, Carl and other staff moved around the tables and sat and chatted with us about all things beefish. And butcherish.

You think I would be ‘beefed out’ after all that meat? No way ;)

Personally, I found the event amazingly informative. I like to learn about food as much as I like to eat it ;) and wish I could have had notes provided on what we learned, there was so much  to take in. A sample bag to bring home was most appreciated – posters and information on cuts, aging, breeds and more.

The only -only downside to the event? It’s cold, very cold. Wear closed in shoes, take – no – wear a coat. You will enjoy it a whole lot more if you are comfortable!

 On ‘Jack’s Hike’, 4 scouts aged from 11 – 13 were under the command of Jack, 15. He led them for 3 days and 2 nights, through 30 kilometers of Kondalilla National Park.  Not a small feat.

TFM was the second in charge, and second oldest, under Jack. There were no adults. 3 boys and 2 girls, all fully self-sufficient with hiking packs slept under the stars in 4 degree nights. Once every 12 hours, Jack texted an adult leader who stayed in the nearby town on Montville. He had to take a phone image of the campsite, send it with a time and date stamp. The phone was then switched off for the next 12 hours. They took, cooked and ate rations, and had water drop offs by an outside party. They were alone, on their own, and by their own hands for 3 days.

I had no qualms about the kids. They are all sensible, and were probably safer in the isolation of the bush than they would be on the main streets of Sydney.

Nevertheless, I slept a little less soundly or the 3 days.

On return, this was all the typing TFM could manage before he crashed for 16 hours. The photos are from his camera.

“On jacks hike we had to carry a 13 kg bag for what seemed forever but was just 30k. The best part was when we got to our campsite each night and take of our shoes and when we got to the top of Banana Mountain. The worst part was when I kept face planting on the second day and having to wait for others. I had sixteen blisters on one foot.

Come October, Jack receives the highest award a scout can achieve for his leadership. I am so proud of him, and for his leadership of TFM. I’ll be in the audience, as will others, in awe of his achievement. I am pretty in awe of TFM as well, and all of the kids.

 I am not a ‘cotton wool mamma’. 2020 plus is going to be a tough world. You can send your ‘you are an awful mother’ messages here. But don’t expect a reply.