Sitting down with the dregs of my wine after a most successful evening’s hosting. Due to ‘im outdoors’ recent honorary post, we have just entertained a party of 14 Air Force chaps including a Lord.

Food was well received and all had a jolly good time.

We aced it on the quantities – not too food much left over but due to a number of designated drivers, lots of remaining wine (hurrah!).

Just chortling to myself that nobody had any idea about a small “incident” that I deftly dealt with.

As they were all tucking into pudding, I took the opportunity to nip out and shut up the hens. This involves contorting my head and arm through the hatch and peering into the henhouse with my phone torch to count them, ensuring none are still outside scratching about.

I returned to the table with my portion of pud and was happily eating and chatting when I felt something damp on the sleeve of my silk blouse. I felt it with my fingers and found they were covered in black goo. On further inspection, I was sporting a healthy dollop of fresh hen poo on the cuff of my sleeve.

Cue, discreet trip to the loo to remove said contamination and a swift return to my seat without missing a beat in the conversation.

I’m a pro.

🙄