Eggs and chickens (and ducks)

I'm not sure which came first, my Dad's crush on Felicity Kendal or our attempt at running a smallholding. In fact, I'm not even sure the two were linked - either way, I was lucky enough to grow up with a goat, some chickens, sheep, a horse, dogs and feral cats. In the midst of this amazing opportunity was an experience that I still struggle to overcome. One day, I cracked an egg into a pan and there was a dead chick (thank god it was dead when you think about it). Since then I have become an egg facist - they need to be really fresh, really cold and are always cracked into a bowl first. I avoid all eggs that I'm not sure about.
So yesterday, when we bumped into our friends at the allotment and they gave us two boxes of eggs from their chickens and ducks, I was already working out how to rehome them as I smiled.
We donated one box to our neighbours in return for last night's supper, which just left three eggs looking for a home ...

... when whipped together with some parsley from the garden, they made the most perfectly fresh and tasty omelette.