Today, eight hours of lectures, commencing at 9am and finishing at 6pm, didn’t do anything for my soul, which is already battered and bruised quite enough, thank you. A large portion of the day was spent in a darkened, airless room with 130-140 other people listening to lecturers droning on. Do you know that horrible, sour smell of bodies that have been in too close proximity to one-another for too long? It’s not that any one of the individuals within the room smelled bad, more that the collective impact of all of them breathing and sweating worked in concert to create a fug. Take my word for it then that getting out into a room with some natural light and opening windows was a huge tonic for this member of the troops.

It’s set against this context when I tell you that I enjoyed this little critter sliming over my hand, prodding me with its antennae and waving the long ones around sussing out its environment. What? I hear you cry! You, an avid gardener, relishing an encounter with a snail? Well to be honest, I don’t have a problem with snails in my garden. It’s a brave snail indeed that ventures into an environment with four chickens who consider fresh snail to be a delicacy! Its shell looks too big for its body doesn’t it? Well, it’s not, it’s just that it is stretching up onto my hand from the table.

Don’t think I’m going soft though, I still have a major issue with slugs and sadly the chickens don’t extend their love of snails to slugs too. I’m not entirely sure how closely related slugs are to snails but for whatever reason, present a hen with a nice “tasty” slug and they will turn up their beaks and wander off chunnering away to themselves in disgust at being asked to eat something so obviously vile. I have found that they are completely happy to eat slugs that have been pickled in brine though. Nope – give me the critters that come with a mobile home on their backs any day!