Despite a loathing of Trago Mills for its scary right-wing politics and its complete disregard for customers, I have to admit to a sneaky liking of spending a couple of hours in its murky depths looking at tools and stuff.

Today we had to take a trip there because my Dad had come down to Cornwall with no pyjamas and so he wanted to remedy that situation and Trago was the easiest option in terms of finding some. It is, after all, the place where it is possible to buy almost anything you could imagine, from a fire grate or a ballcock, through to a violin or a dictionary.

I have to confess to fondling slate and glass tiles (not together) in the process of deciding how to finish off our bathroom.

We’d finished our stuff in the store and were back in the car park when I noticed a little gaggle of hens sat on top of a fence. I was drawn to them and as I got closer I could hear crowing cockerels above my head.

Further investigation revealed that there were several trees full of hens and cockerels, some as high as 15-20 feet in the air. This chap was the lowest in the tree and in dense shade, he was the only one I could get a clear shot of. He was looking down at me with a ‘ha you can’t get me’ look on his face!

Now part of me was thrilled to see them all, peering over with their feathery bottoms waving about but there was also part of me that thought ‘well, if they can do it, so can ours…..’

Ours have taken to spending a quiet hour on a big branch of our fir tree, which is a couple of feet off the ground and has a nice easy stroll up from about a foot up.Now I’m thinking we’re going to find them up in the top of a willow or a fir tree and we’ll be unable to coax them back down – oh dear.

On 5th August last year, I was in Lyon!