So . Another week in sunny and warm purgatory.
One chicken is sitting on a about 11 eggs.

In another 7 or so  days I should have some little chicks. Incha’la.
Don’t know what the small kitten will think of them.  She has a healthy relationship with the hens, but when the hens are hungry they are inclined to grab the cat’s food and scarper with it.
Duey says the (very noisy) rooster is going to be swapped for another female.

Currently he is shuffling round  the compound, legs tied together with a piece of string.
I don’t know why, doesn’t mute it in any way. (that’s the cockerel, not Duey, tied up).
 
I had an acquaintance in Bakau.
He called himself Mustapha , but his original name was more like Peter Baxter. (Or something similar), an English man, very softly spoken and polite.
He was a struck off NHS dental surgeon who came to this country and worked as a saw bones for The Methodists.
Always told me he didn’t enjoy working for them too much due to the regular, compulsory Prayer meetings.
I really liked this man: He didn’t repeat himself when he was drunken and had many fasscinating stories to tell.
He wore local clothes and carried an interesting stick. (Which he used on at least one occasion on an abusive  taxi driver)
He can only have been slightly more old than me.
Anyway, he is dead.
It was a big surprise to me when I heard, a couple of days ago on a rare visit to the Bakau area.
He always appeared fairly healthy and was always supported by his latest entourage of pretty local girls.
He had a compound where he kept one wife and had several other smaller properties, which he used. I don’t know what for.
He wanted me to buy some cases of wine he and his girls had imported from Guinea Bissau. We enjoyed a couple of bottles together occasionally.
Anyway, there you go.
Even though I haven’t seen him for several months (since deserting Bakau), I’m sorry to hear this news.
Cause of death (apparently) Drink.

Last Saturday I was at a party at a local Liberian  bar, celebrating  Sierra Leone’s independence. 52 years. I was at a bar all afternoon and had a nice time.



The b*gger of the week for me : while eating a cheese and onion sandwich I cracked a tooth. Actually not as bad as it could have been, but bad enough.
Heavily filled molar, still heavily filled, just less tooth now. Dontcha just love the dentistry of the 70’s ?

Anyway. That’s the latest from me. As you can see no excitement here.