For part of my teenage years, I was lucky enough to live in a beautiful old farmhouse in Cobham, Surrey. Set back from the road, screened by a mini-forest, Sheepbell Farm was one of those higgledy-piggledy kind of places - the architectural equivalent of a variety pack of crisps, with bits from the 14th century through to the 20th... though by the 20th century, additions were largely of an 'icing on the cake' variety like an internally fitted vacuum system.A short digression here, but I have to say that each of the hoses for this early 20th century sucking dust marvel were heavier than three large modern Dysons, and it was easiest to transport them by hanging them round your neck - the result was like a cross between an octopus and robocop wrestling a red-faced, puffing harangued woman, but there you go - in it's time, it was the latest thing in housewifely convenience and probably cost more than a car....and it was probably the man of the house who was convinced by the salesman it was just what the little lady wanted as an anniversary present.....Anyway, back to the farm.... while the way various extensions had been added on to the house over the centuries was probably the main argument for planning regulations, it really was a beautiful place and the setting of some of my happiest memories of times with my family - everyone seemed genuinely happy to be there. It was one of those places that had it's own time zone - disregard the electric lights and you could have been living back in the 1700's. True that the only animals sharing the family living quarters were a couple of elderly Siamese cats, a pair of young, over-excitable Yorkshire terrier puppies, and perhaps the odd phantom mouse living in the 12-inch thick wall space, as opposed to the historically accurate chickens, geese, pigs, sheep and goats, but there you go - we were all okay with being a little bit anachronistic most of the time... though there was a mini crusade from my sister to get a Vietnamese pot-belly pig, but that never really "got wings".Where am I going with this.... typical, meander down memory lane and end up with a welly stuck in a mud puddle and forget what I was doing down this way in any case.... Ah, yes.... With the relocation of the florists from the address next to my office to a more commercially viable location in the arcade, I found the mists clearing from my memories of the farm last week. I grant you, it seems an odd connection, but there is a link, trust me.... A feature of the dining room in Sheepbell Farm was a built-in floor to ceiling cupboard next to the Inglenook fireplace. The top third of the cupboard was a glass fronted display case, which (after a couple of weeks in the house) we noticed had a little 3 inch by 6 inch patch on the interior wall. Further investigation ensued, with my father eventually tracking the 'other side' of the patch to an outside wall in the small yard next to the kitchen just above an odd brick construction which looked a bit like animal pens, but without doors.This seemed very curious indeed... and when the housekeeper (who had been with the house for many years, though probably not as long as the internal vacuum) came the next day, my mother pounced on her. "What is that for?", she asked pointing an accusing finger at the glass cabinet. And the answer.... well, it's one of those occasions when the word 'eccentric' gets even more firmly cemented to the word 'English' in the mind of the average American ex-pat.... The purpose of the glass-fronted display cabinet was to provide a space for the songbirds from the aviary to fly in and entertain dinner guests.... the brick animal pens were in fact the base of a very large (10ft x 15ft) aviary. The 'patch' was covering the little doorway from the aviary into the glass cabinet. Initially this sounds charming (and odd), but the more you ruminate on it, the more you get to thinking that cleaning up the bird poo must've been a right b*gger of a job!So - if you've read this far (and this is rather a long blog, sorry) - you're probably thinking... what in heaven's name does this bizarre bird exhibitionism have to do with gardening or even with the florist moving? Stick with me....Last week, I was on a break loitering outside the closed florist shop with my usual homicidal maniac pacifying device (or cigarette) in my hand... things had been a bit crazy in the office... when I had the irresistable urge to read the A4 notice in the window about the new location for the n'th time... don't know why I'm compelled to read signs in windows - presumably it's a defence mechanism against crazies approaching me to warble at me about smoking being a bad habit.... when I spotted TREASURE in the darkened shop in the form of the old glass counter.....What started off in my mind as "Hmmmmmm" pressed the pedal to the mental metal and quickly became "oooh oooh oooh" and I literally ran down to the new location of the florist's shop in the arcade and quickly sealed the deal to buy the old counter... all lovely 6 foot long, 2 foot wide, 3 1/2 foot tall of it.... mine for £40.... two purple wine vouchers! Then I rang Fereday and told him..... unfortunately, his mind seemed stuck in "Hmmmmmm".....After a couple of attempts to shift this behemoth back to the house, I eventually capitulated that it wasn't going to fit in the V40 estate - it's the only time the car has let me down, so I'm not harping on it too much - and had it delivered by some very nice removal men on a Wednesday morning.Even with my beautiful treasure proudly sitting in the dining room, Fereday was still in "Hmmmmm" mode.....Him: "What are we going to do with it?"Me: "Play shop????"Him: "Seriously." (note of concern creeping in)Me: "I've always wanted one!"Him: "Since when?"Me: "Well, okay, since Monday.... but I've a short memory, so that's a long time for me...."Him: "Once again, what are we going to do with it? It's huge...."Me: "Well, I thought we could pop one of the rabbits in it to entertain us when we have dinner parties...."Him: "A few problems.... the chosen rabbit won't like it and will scratch at the corners to escape,.... it's not likely to be very entertaining to see a rabbit having a poop while you're eating dinner, especially anything with raisins in it,.... and, crucially, we don't have dinner parties...."Me: "Okay, so back to the playing shop idea, then.... I'm off back to work.... have a look on ebay for a vintage cash till...."See - there's the link ... birds in a cupboard.... rabbits in a display counter.....I think I qualify for citizenship now, Mr Brown... I've well and truly crossed the line into eccentric Englishwoman.... jam making and the WI can't be far behind and I did spend this Sunday re-ribboning the panama of the White Rose Morris Men's Squire (that's the head Morrisman for the uninitiated).Anyway, later that Wednesday, arriving back from work I found that Fereday had made it up on the on-ramp and moved into the fast lane.... "THIS IS FANTASTIC!!!!" I heard him acclaiming from the dining room.... And, as you can see from the picture.... it is!

From numerous little tables with small propagators and an old house bunny hutch (like a large tuperware container) to one, neat little solution! Fereday is so into it, we had to buy one of those remote weather station things so he can monitor the maximum and minimum temperatures during the day!!!
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  • Well Cat you get my vote and if I get time I will write to Mr Brown but you must start baking!! :-)

    Love the display unit and how creative you both are.
  • Wow! Love the way your brain is wired.

    So now you have a zero carbon, heavy duty bench with under floor heating and an interior greenhouse to bring the babies on. Have to say the shop counter looks great and during the winter you and Fereday could play 'shops'. What would you fill the glass shelves with?
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Tiny robot rigby Taylor

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