About a month ago, the people next door (who had always been something of gardeners) had a man deliver a tree mulching machine. I thought nothing of it at the time, and just assumed that some pruning was  being done and some tidying up. In fact, I looked forward to it – it would be nice to have a managed garden to look over.

A day or so later I noticed that the grass had been stripped and pretty much everything within the boundaries of the trees and bushes had been removed. A swimming pool perhaps? A new building? Then the man with the geese, ducks and chickens came, and I have not woken up to my alarm clock since. Given that we’re in the middle of the urban sprawl of Bordeaux and not out in the country, I do wonder about the cost and motivation of their decisions, but respect them nonetheless. Many people look over worse things than a mini farmyard.

Then, this morning, I awoke to what sounded like children being tortured and realised that the first eggs must be being laid by my neighbour’s chickens. I’m no expert, but my rationale tells me that this is the noise I would make if I were laying an egg. The chickens are still there, so it can’t be Sunday lunch. As far as I’m aware, chickens tend to lay their eggs daily, which means that my quality of sleep is about to dip lower than that of new parents.

Still, at least somebody is enjoying fresh eggs.