“Are you sure you can do that?” insists Eddie. “Are you sure?!?”
I give Eddie a contemptuous look. She will rue the day she doubted my chickens. I order Eddie and Eddie more drinks, and we discuss terms.
It is my first major order!!! John Twonil is getting married, and I have won the contract to supply eggs for the wedding cake!!! This is the sort of break that really makes a difference to the hungry business executive; I suspect it is how Bernard Matthews, Mr Kipling etc. started.
Becoming a supplier for the big society wedding of the year fills me with pride. The event has been planned for months – specially printed invitations, a privately-made dress for the bride, one of the top venues in the region (Village Pub). I would imagine that I can now put some form of crest on the side of the chicken coop, perhaps in gold lettering. They will need a website and perhaps a mission statement. There is so much to think of.
“Two dozen. It must be two dozen,” Eddie maintains, poking me and fixing me with a stare. I give an involuntary shiver. If I am to be the egg equivalent of ‘The Apprentice’ then I will have to harden up and get used to dealing with such people.
“It’s pretty fucking important,” I explain to the chickens as I put them to bed. They have had it easy up to this point; now is the time they start earning their keep.