Hovis_and_SidsMum
Well-Known Member
Dear diary
This week has been a strange but good one. Firstly my beloved is home!
This has made me very happy, even happier when I saw shed put on stockings for the occasion oh boy! Thought I but alas this appears to be a bandage and not an attempt to seduce me in a Mrs Jones type moment. Poo.
I am pleased shes back though mum does keep saying this business about her not being out of the woods yet. What woods? Shes in the stable? Lord I think my mother has taken a few too many blows to the head in her life.
Meanwhile I am still ill. The vet stole more of my blood this week so I am getting increasingly concerned it may be being sold on the black market. I would like it back at some point but apparently theyre not going to give it me? Why? Its MINE. Life is so unfair.
Even more unfar is because Im ill Im not allowed to do any fast work or get tired. Yippee thought I holidays and paaarrrtty. Alas no. My mothers idea of not working hard is to do lateral work. Lots of it. In WALK. Ive not been this bored since the trip over from Ireland when I had to listen to the life story of the horse next to me all the way from Ireland to Derbyshire. Now THAT was boring. Why do I need to be able to leg yield, turn on my bum etc etc? I have managed all these years without doing so why now? I blame some cult place she went to the other week it was somewhere in Warwickshire(?) and she came back all enthused.
Meanwhile at the yard its all change. There are diggers and bumpers and big trucks and cement machines all over the place. Its very interesting. Well I thin so. Poofy mean time is having apoplexy. Honestly Im renaming him poofy the magic dragon the amount of snorting hes doing is ridiculous. I however keep testing the mans handy work. Theyre irish and whilst I am irish myself I do distrust men rom the emerald isle who lay tarmac and things. So every day I go and put my foot on the curb stones they have laid and push on them. I like to think of it as quality control. They dont appear to share my sentiments. Ungrateful people.
So if next week I dont write these men may have given my some concrete wellies and used me as ballast .
This week has been a strange but good one. Firstly my beloved is home!
This has made me very happy, even happier when I saw shed put on stockings for the occasion oh boy! Thought I but alas this appears to be a bandage and not an attempt to seduce me in a Mrs Jones type moment. Poo.
I am pleased shes back though mum does keep saying this business about her not being out of the woods yet. What woods? Shes in the stable? Lord I think my mother has taken a few too many blows to the head in her life.
Meanwhile I am still ill. The vet stole more of my blood this week so I am getting increasingly concerned it may be being sold on the black market. I would like it back at some point but apparently theyre not going to give it me? Why? Its MINE. Life is so unfair.
Even more unfar is because Im ill Im not allowed to do any fast work or get tired. Yippee thought I holidays and paaarrrtty. Alas no. My mothers idea of not working hard is to do lateral work. Lots of it. In WALK. Ive not been this bored since the trip over from Ireland when I had to listen to the life story of the horse next to me all the way from Ireland to Derbyshire. Now THAT was boring. Why do I need to be able to leg yield, turn on my bum etc etc? I have managed all these years without doing so why now? I blame some cult place she went to the other week it was somewhere in Warwickshire(?) and she came back all enthused.
Meanwhile at the yard its all change. There are diggers and bumpers and big trucks and cement machines all over the place. Its very interesting. Well I thin so. Poofy mean time is having apoplexy. Honestly Im renaming him poofy the magic dragon the amount of snorting hes doing is ridiculous. I however keep testing the mans handy work. Theyre irish and whilst I am irish myself I do distrust men rom the emerald isle who lay tarmac and things. So every day I go and put my foot on the curb stones they have laid and push on them. I like to think of it as quality control. They dont appear to share my sentiments. Ungrateful people.
So if next week I dont write these men may have given my some concrete wellies and used me as ballast .
