We have a cockerel living in the pub car-park, which is almost next door to us. He has apparently been rendered homeless by Heartless Farmer Bob, who cast him into the wilderness without hen, corn, or any apparent means of support. I have not been able to discover the crime of the cockerel, only that he has been thrown out of the coop, and left to fend for himself. Very Tall Next Door Neighbour has sort of adopted him, and for some bizarre reason has christened the hapless creature Elvis. As if he isn't suffering enough. He is a rather splendid specimen, gaily coloured, and given to crowing regularly throughout the daylight hours. I fear for Elvis, given the number of foxes around.
Two has noticed marked improvement in Bad Back. Although is still sitting bolt upright and wincing occasionally.
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