207. Chicken-sitters . . .

We're just back from a week in Scotland, munro-bagging from a hideout in Fort Augustus. This is a remarkably sheltered lunch spot at the top of Sgurr a Mahoraich, 1027 metres.


But chickens - unlike my toy soldiers, lego and fuzzy-felt - couldn't be put away in a cupboard until I got back. So, I arranged for chicken-sitters. 

And here they are. Not only did they look after the chickens, but they built an enormous snowman. It's still here!


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