Hovis_and_SidsMum
Well-Known Member
Dear Diary
By the time you read this I may be on a race course somewhere flying along with other skinny TB types. Because thats what Im going to look like if mothers campaign of fitten and keep lean continues. Even the vet telling her the other week that Im nicely trim and pretty much perfect hasnt deterred her. I also know that Herman the German needle man told her if anything I was on the lean side but then to my horror added which is where I like to see them. Sadist .
So this week has still seen me coming in during the day to listen to the radio, eat hay and get off the grass. I dont mind so much its the holidays so the Boss Ladys foal comes to talk to me and usually brings carrots, Frilly comes in to work mid afternoon and the radio channel mum puts on has some good tunes.
On Monday afternoon mum turned up and made me run around in circles on my bad rein with these dastardly things attached to me such that I had to actually use my bum. The nerve of it! Its my bum surely my choice if I use it or not? Same goes for the correct leg thing my legs = my choice. Simples.
Then on Tuesday the lady who fixes saddled came and re-flocked my saddle. What does reflocking mean? I thought a flock was a load of sheep? Does that mean I have a load of small white clouds on legs in my saddle? If so why am I having to do all the work? Surely they could give me a hand? Saddle fixing lady kept making mum get on me and ride, then get off and unsaddle me, then saddle me and ride, then get off and blah blah blah. Lord it was BORING! But I figured that was the work done for the day. Alas no mother had other ideas and turned back up again and made me ride around doing poncy poncy dressage all night. So not only am I being starved to the size of a TB Im being turned into a poncy thin TB to boot. Whilst being known as Boglands Quaver does seem to pull the ladies Im not sure why I cant be known this way but not have to actually do any poncing?
So on weds when mum turned up I thought oh fabby more poncing. But no! I was SO wrong. It turns out shed had a really bad day and wanted to let off some steam. What that meant I had no idea but I was in for a surprise Aunty Sarah brought hot Stepper in, we both were tacked up and then to my shock we set off together. Now normally we dont go out without my wing man and partner in crime Billy and certainly not with the high stepping pansy. Something to do with mums nerves not coping with his constant spooking. But what the heck I wasnt complaining it was better than poncing. We did have to endure his royal Hot Steppingness wetting himself everytime a worm farted but on the whole I just ignored him and off we went. Now there is a big hill at the back of our yard which mum has always harped on about and it had stubble in it I say had because its now been ploughed but the plough thing was only just starting in the field as we rode past. Mum looked at Aunty Sarah, Aunt Sarah looked at mum, I tried to avoid being squashed by Hot Stepper leaping 6 foot in the air because a cow coughed three counties away and into the field we went. Well yeehhaaaa! We went flying up the hill like two torpedos of flying feather power. Well I did fancy highly bred boy doesnt have any feathers. Halfway up the hill I actually realised it was quite hard work and so dropped (Im ashamed to say) into a collected canter that the Tortilla dude would have been proud of. Mum was very happy. I was very pooped. So we had a walk for a bit then another canter down into the next field I tell you this field went on for MILES. We walked along the hedge line startling people who were picking berries on the other side cue a heart attack from HS and then off we went again. This time there was a family in the next field and they all started waving (fans of mine obviously) so I showed them my moves by leaping sideways mid-canter. From the squeal mum let out she was SO impressed with my athletics for a big man I can move baby let me tell you. After that we walked for a while again then trooped out of the field at the bottom and made our way back home. As we nearer home we could hear a whoooosh, whooooshnoise and HS started snorting and trying to turn around. Which is not a good move when the path is narrow and theres a fence that bites in the other side. Dimwit. So being the hero I am, I strode forward and took us home with HS hanging behind me like a well bred smell. Heinz 57 I might be matey but I have big manly Cahones. And a mother with a very insistent right leg .
After my heroics mum let me have yesterday off more to do with the fact it was raining I suspect but far be it form me to point this out .. This morning she has once again had me running round in circles with those strap things on so I am now mainly sulking. I swear she did say I could do some more jumping (I did some last week and it was FUN!!) this weekend so I might forgive her later. But only if she brings carrots ..
By the time you read this I may be on a race course somewhere flying along with other skinny TB types. Because thats what Im going to look like if mothers campaign of fitten and keep lean continues. Even the vet telling her the other week that Im nicely trim and pretty much perfect hasnt deterred her. I also know that Herman the German needle man told her if anything I was on the lean side but then to my horror added which is where I like to see them. Sadist .
So this week has still seen me coming in during the day to listen to the radio, eat hay and get off the grass. I dont mind so much its the holidays so the Boss Ladys foal comes to talk to me and usually brings carrots, Frilly comes in to work mid afternoon and the radio channel mum puts on has some good tunes.
On Monday afternoon mum turned up and made me run around in circles on my bad rein with these dastardly things attached to me such that I had to actually use my bum. The nerve of it! Its my bum surely my choice if I use it or not? Same goes for the correct leg thing my legs = my choice. Simples.
Then on Tuesday the lady who fixes saddled came and re-flocked my saddle. What does reflocking mean? I thought a flock was a load of sheep? Does that mean I have a load of small white clouds on legs in my saddle? If so why am I having to do all the work? Surely they could give me a hand? Saddle fixing lady kept making mum get on me and ride, then get off and unsaddle me, then saddle me and ride, then get off and blah blah blah. Lord it was BORING! But I figured that was the work done for the day. Alas no mother had other ideas and turned back up again and made me ride around doing poncy poncy dressage all night. So not only am I being starved to the size of a TB Im being turned into a poncy thin TB to boot. Whilst being known as Boglands Quaver does seem to pull the ladies Im not sure why I cant be known this way but not have to actually do any poncing?
So on weds when mum turned up I thought oh fabby more poncing. But no! I was SO wrong. It turns out shed had a really bad day and wanted to let off some steam. What that meant I had no idea but I was in for a surprise Aunty Sarah brought hot Stepper in, we both were tacked up and then to my shock we set off together. Now normally we dont go out without my wing man and partner in crime Billy and certainly not with the high stepping pansy. Something to do with mums nerves not coping with his constant spooking. But what the heck I wasnt complaining it was better than poncing. We did have to endure his royal Hot Steppingness wetting himself everytime a worm farted but on the whole I just ignored him and off we went. Now there is a big hill at the back of our yard which mum has always harped on about and it had stubble in it I say had because its now been ploughed but the plough thing was only just starting in the field as we rode past. Mum looked at Aunty Sarah, Aunt Sarah looked at mum, I tried to avoid being squashed by Hot Stepper leaping 6 foot in the air because a cow coughed three counties away and into the field we went. Well yeehhaaaa! We went flying up the hill like two torpedos of flying feather power. Well I did fancy highly bred boy doesnt have any feathers. Halfway up the hill I actually realised it was quite hard work and so dropped (Im ashamed to say) into a collected canter that the Tortilla dude would have been proud of. Mum was very happy. I was very pooped. So we had a walk for a bit then another canter down into the next field I tell you this field went on for MILES. We walked along the hedge line startling people who were picking berries on the other side cue a heart attack from HS and then off we went again. This time there was a family in the next field and they all started waving (fans of mine obviously) so I showed them my moves by leaping sideways mid-canter. From the squeal mum let out she was SO impressed with my athletics for a big man I can move baby let me tell you. After that we walked for a while again then trooped out of the field at the bottom and made our way back home. As we nearer home we could hear a whoooosh, whooooshnoise and HS started snorting and trying to turn around. Which is not a good move when the path is narrow and theres a fence that bites in the other side. Dimwit. So being the hero I am, I strode forward and took us home with HS hanging behind me like a well bred smell. Heinz 57 I might be matey but I have big manly Cahones. And a mother with a very insistent right leg .
After my heroics mum let me have yesterday off more to do with the fact it was raining I suspect but far be it form me to point this out .. This morning she has once again had me running round in circles with those strap things on so I am now mainly sulking. I swear she did say I could do some more jumping (I did some last week and it was FUN!!) this weekend so I might forgive her later. But only if she brings carrots ..
once again, a brill diary!
love it