I actually love the roo poo on the grass verge in the morning; the friendly orb spiders who spin their webs across the garden; the possums who dance on the tin roof. Even the kookaburras' chuckles are a comforting sound from my slightly aussie childhood, but please Mr Neighbour, I do have one polite question:
How long is Mr Cockerel going to be staying with his new hen harem just outside our bedroom window?
I grew up visiting villages and farms from rural Greece to Devon, where the distant dawn cockcrow was all part of the charm, so to start with I told myself that Mr Cockerel's morning boasting was adding to the rustic ambience of life in the B&B.
But that was a few weeks ago, and now it seems that the more Mr Cockerel is successful in his service, the earlier his crowing begins and the longer and louder he likes to shout about it.
While five-am might be the perfect time to rise for some, it doesn't work for me, so please Mr Neighbour, do let me ask you this one polite question: When is Mr Cockerel going back home to his chook-farm family?
Coq au vin anyone?
Update June 2011: The cockerel has gone home and we are all sleeping well again...
