Hovis_and_SidsMum
Well-Known Member
Dear Diary
So have you missed me?!!
I entirely blame my mother for my absence. For some reason she seems to think that the dramas in her life have excused her neglect of me and my ability to get the word out there. More to the point most of you have agreed and given her sympathy. Now I know shes had a pretty tough few months but dont encourage this lax attitude or I shall be forced to search for another agent.
So where to start? What have I been up to? Well in summary, Aunty Sammie is still trying to defy my genetics and turn me into a TB making me hack for miles with that prancing well bred pansy and a new boy on the yard. The new boy on the yard is all spotty, small and quite frankly rather annoying. Hes stabled next door to me in the place previously taken up by the nice-to-stare-at-but-not-for-long-in-case-she-tries-to-kill -me highly bred ginger wench mare. Shes been sold for being such a wench bags, rather alarmingly a week later someone said Tesco had got horse meat in their burgers. Coincidence surely? I tell you what though on that subject all of us at the yard are a lot more cautious when we see Tescos delivery Lorries around her, maybe theyre not delivering theyre collecting? A boy has to think of these things and being of the larger manlier end of the gene pool I have to think youd get a lot of whoppers out of me.... Mum finds the whole thing hilarious and points out due to my unfortunate name I am already a burger in a bun. I do not find her funny.
Anyway as I was saying prancy river dance reject and I have been out with spotty boy on a few occasions but since neither of us likes him, we have tried to eat him several times. Apparently his mum was quite alarmed to see how wide I can get my mouth, particularly when he dodged out of the way and I nearly ate her leg by mistake. Ooooppps.
As a result of all this hacking I am rather fit. Something mother does not seem grateful for. She has taken to lunging me once a week whilst the small noise box is asleep and she seems to find it most exciting that she cant wear me out. At least Im sure thats what shes saying between the gritted teeth and the panting its hard to tell.
Mother in between the lunging is still persisting in turning me into a dressage fairy and is getting quite stroppy about the whole thing. As I have spent 6 years telling her just because I can do something doesnt mean I WANT to do something and quite frankly carrying your own head is highly overrated. Im hoping once the weather improves to get back to doing something more manly like jumping or perhaps a new pursuit?
The weather has put pay to most things of late as either everywhere has been flooded or covered in the white stuff. This has led to much discussion between Cool New Shoes Man and mother about my feet. Apparently in CNSM view he things my feet need a break from shoes for a while and since Im not doing as much work at the moment due to the darkness / flooding / snow / wind /slash mother not loving me anymore then it was deemed now was a good time to take them off. So I am renaming CNSM to Cool Not Giving Me Any Shoes Man. It doesnt quite have the same ring does it?
The removal deed was done a few weeks ago just as the snow arrived. Which was fab. Because unlike my shod friends I wasnt wearing a set of ice skates and all of a sudden I had traction. Unlike mother. Her frantic arm flailing version of Bolero is worthy of some sort of entertainment award and her dainty mince across the ice is like watching a hippo try to cross a glass floor covered in egg shells . Were all supposed to walk on the grass when its icy but I found it highly amusing to pull mum onto the drive and watch her trying to stay upright whilst pushing all 600+kg of me back the way wed come. Admittedly moving out of the way when she grabbed me for support wasnt sporting but heh neither is cutting down my pasture mix rations so two can play that game.
Talking of games mum said a bunch of nice people on some internet forum thing have been trying to guess my breeding. Apparently I am too fine (why thank you) to be a pure Clydesdale so theyve been trying to figure out what dad was (mum has always said my real mum obviously wasnt fussy). The current money is apparently on a TB. After mum managed to stop laughing long enough to tell me this I was torn between whether to be insulted or flattered. On one level they are suggesting that I am partially skittish, neurotic, flighty and really rather common but on the other hand by definition I am part race horse (which lets face it I always knew). Mum is not convinced and is more partial to think dad was some form of Irish mongrel himself but I am warming to being part Arkel. What do you think?
For now this is the no shoes wearing feathered Frankelite signing out
So have you missed me?!!
I entirely blame my mother for my absence. For some reason she seems to think that the dramas in her life have excused her neglect of me and my ability to get the word out there. More to the point most of you have agreed and given her sympathy. Now I know shes had a pretty tough few months but dont encourage this lax attitude or I shall be forced to search for another agent.
So where to start? What have I been up to? Well in summary, Aunty Sammie is still trying to defy my genetics and turn me into a TB making me hack for miles with that prancing well bred pansy and a new boy on the yard. The new boy on the yard is all spotty, small and quite frankly rather annoying. Hes stabled next door to me in the place previously taken up by the nice-to-stare-at-but-not-for-long-in-case-she-tries-to-kill -me highly bred ginger wench mare. Shes been sold for being such a wench bags, rather alarmingly a week later someone said Tesco had got horse meat in their burgers. Coincidence surely? I tell you what though on that subject all of us at the yard are a lot more cautious when we see Tescos delivery Lorries around her, maybe theyre not delivering theyre collecting? A boy has to think of these things and being of the larger manlier end of the gene pool I have to think youd get a lot of whoppers out of me.... Mum finds the whole thing hilarious and points out due to my unfortunate name I am already a burger in a bun. I do not find her funny.
Anyway as I was saying prancy river dance reject and I have been out with spotty boy on a few occasions but since neither of us likes him, we have tried to eat him several times. Apparently his mum was quite alarmed to see how wide I can get my mouth, particularly when he dodged out of the way and I nearly ate her leg by mistake. Ooooppps.
As a result of all this hacking I am rather fit. Something mother does not seem grateful for. She has taken to lunging me once a week whilst the small noise box is asleep and she seems to find it most exciting that she cant wear me out. At least Im sure thats what shes saying between the gritted teeth and the panting its hard to tell.
Mother in between the lunging is still persisting in turning me into a dressage fairy and is getting quite stroppy about the whole thing. As I have spent 6 years telling her just because I can do something doesnt mean I WANT to do something and quite frankly carrying your own head is highly overrated. Im hoping once the weather improves to get back to doing something more manly like jumping or perhaps a new pursuit?
The weather has put pay to most things of late as either everywhere has been flooded or covered in the white stuff. This has led to much discussion between Cool New Shoes Man and mother about my feet. Apparently in CNSM view he things my feet need a break from shoes for a while and since Im not doing as much work at the moment due to the darkness / flooding / snow / wind /slash mother not loving me anymore then it was deemed now was a good time to take them off. So I am renaming CNSM to Cool Not Giving Me Any Shoes Man. It doesnt quite have the same ring does it?
The removal deed was done a few weeks ago just as the snow arrived. Which was fab. Because unlike my shod friends I wasnt wearing a set of ice skates and all of a sudden I had traction. Unlike mother. Her frantic arm flailing version of Bolero is worthy of some sort of entertainment award and her dainty mince across the ice is like watching a hippo try to cross a glass floor covered in egg shells . Were all supposed to walk on the grass when its icy but I found it highly amusing to pull mum onto the drive and watch her trying to stay upright whilst pushing all 600+kg of me back the way wed come. Admittedly moving out of the way when she grabbed me for support wasnt sporting but heh neither is cutting down my pasture mix rations so two can play that game.
Talking of games mum said a bunch of nice people on some internet forum thing have been trying to guess my breeding. Apparently I am too fine (why thank you) to be a pure Clydesdale so theyve been trying to figure out what dad was (mum has always said my real mum obviously wasnt fussy). The current money is apparently on a TB. After mum managed to stop laughing long enough to tell me this I was torn between whether to be insulted or flattered. On one level they are suggesting that I am partially skittish, neurotic, flighty and really rather common but on the other hand by definition I am part race horse (which lets face it I always knew). Mum is not convinced and is more partial to think dad was some form of Irish mongrel himself but I am warming to being part Arkel. What do you think?
For now this is the no shoes wearing feathered Frankelite signing out