I've spoken to our GP today - she has advised that I double the dose of escitalopram that I am taking, which will effectively take me from a 'maintenance dose' to a more regular dose.
I am pretty miserable about it - but I'm starting to struggle to deal with everyday things like the laundry and paying the bills and feeding the children, so I guess it's one of the things to tweak and see what happens. In the however-many-years I've been taking it, I've lost all my previous hang-ups about antidepressants, so I don't have the feelings of failure that I did when I first went on it. I suppose that that is progress of a sort.
It's been a beautiful day and I've been watching my cockerels shagging. Not for pleasure, I hasten to add, although there is something very uplifting about the idea that the sap is rising and spring is coming. But to monitor their effectiveness.
I have nine hens and three cockerels. Until last week I had nine hens and ONE cockerel. But he's simply not interested in the laydees. He will find them bits of corn and beetles and what-not and call them all over and court them assiduously. The all come running and bustle around him like an obedient harem.
But when it comes actually giving them a good seeing-to, he is simply not interested.
So, I have put him in a pen with three young hens, in the hope that if the girls don't get a head-start when they come out of the house in the morning he might be able to keep up and jump their bones. And I have bought two young cockerels who are hopefully going to either stir him on to greater endeavours; or, in a worst-case scenario, take his place.
Young Cockerel One is too young. So he is hanging round like someone's son at an Anne Summer's party and running away when any of the hens look at him.
Young Cockerel Two is slightly older and knows what it's all about. However, he clearly has had no *actual* practice at it - rather like a chap from an all-boys boarding school in his first term at university. He waits until the hens are all eating or drinking ... and then he circles round behind them, takes a running leap, grabs them by their neck feathers and jumps on board.
Rather like some of the chaps I dated in my late teens and early twenties, to be frank. It's like watching the last half hour before kicking-out time in a particularly seedy club in Fresher's Week. If the hens see him coming they turn round to face him in unison, like a group of middle-aged women on a works outing and face him down. You can almost see them saying "Do you MIND, young man!"
However, I am hoping that a few weeks will see the young boys get the hang of it all and learn to court the ladies and my breeding programme can continue apace. If 'apace' isn't a particularly up-itself word to use, particularly in relation to chicken sex. In the meantime, I have four two-week old chicks that are feathering up nicely, ten eggs due to hatch this time next week and (ahem) forty-two due to hatch the week after.
I am investigating additional chicken accommodation for full-sized birds as well as for chicks.
For today, that is all.