I ain't good-lookin; I'm built for speed

I've been playing my Best Of Bessie Smith CD at the table lately, hoping that the girls are taking in a bit of kultcher.

Off to the paediatrician today, to see if there is anything interesting about Ivy's nine-month cough. She's had it since her first cold, at the age of four months. I'd like her to not have a cough. At our most recent visit to a doctor, the child-GP (she looked about fifteen) suggested that even an immunised child can get a low-grade version of whooping cough, and that the only way to know is to do a nasty nasal swab that surely involves strapping the child down while you get an instrument up her nose.

But then this is the GP who did not diagnose roseola when it was hugely obvious (now that I know the facts of roseola).

In other news, our chickens are so cute! They get a little bowl of porridge each morning, and peck peck peck it's all gone in an hour, but they keep coming by for a check and a peck, in case more arrives in the bowl.