Dear diary,

Well what a week that was! I’ve had a new farrier come to rescue a crack in my hoof as Cool New Shoes Man was in Israel. I’ve nearly had to buy arm bands to prevent drowning and I did some jumping with Aunty Becky and Monty. All in all it’s been pretty good!

So I told you last week that mum was running the final of her mud obstacles races at the weekend for charity — 10km and 60 obstacles. So while she got very wet and very very muddy I enjoyed a quiet Saturday in the drizzle doing nothing more strenuous than leaning my neck as far under my electric fence as it would go to get at the grass that the cow bags won’t let me have.

I think I’d earned the right after mother had decided on Friday that my sheath needed cleaning and after giving me a very nice groom and my dinner had taken advantage of my “relaxed state” and grabbed my Hovis sausage with the vigour of a dieting woman grabbing a bacon baguette. I was not amused and did try to karate kick her head into the next county but she clung on with the resiliency of a super-glued limpet and I failed to dislodge her from my man parts. I treated her to my best “you’re an evil witch look”, which bounced off her like water off a Mickey Mouse poncho, and lapsed into a wounded silence.

So Sunday morning came and a slightly battered looking mother arrived at the yard with a keen looking Monty and an over excited Aunty Becky. Now since Aunty Becky gets over excited about a lot of things I didn’t take a lot of notice until I saw mother putting jumps up in the school. Like proper jumps. I started to get a tad over excited too…

Monty mounted in a manner that hinted that the enthusiasm:talent ratio might be a tad out of kilter and proceeded to “warm me up” in his own rather unorthodox way. Well he did until mother took over and started doing a lot of “instructing” from the ground which put an end to me doing exactly what I fancied, at the pace I fancied, with my head sticking out like giraffe with piles.

After I’d ignored Monty’s requests for a downwards transition for the 10th time in as many minutes and had been treated to the sight of mother doubled over in hysterics when he warned me to “remember who was in charge here”, Aunty Becky was flung up on board and made me actually behave. Spoil sports.

I’ve not jumped in months so who could blame me for being a tad forward? I think in fairness compared to the riding school horses Monty is used to I must have felt like an overgrown Ferrari with feathers. A kick along ride I am not…

After Aunty Becky had reminded me that bucking before jumps is rude and then taken me over a few, following mothers shouted instructions, Monty was put back on. By this stage I had vaguely worked out what I was supposed to be doing and what mother judged as an “acceptable” pace to be doing it at, so mum let us go over a few small jumps. It was great fun! He can definitely come again if it means I get to leave the ground. Plus as he has zero clue of how to do any of the fancy stuff, I get to do what I love in my own special way and he gets to sit on something with more power than a turbo charged Land Rover. Plus we’re both Irish. Win, win on every front surely?!

Mum was heard muttering something about doing more jumping so I didn’t get so excited about what was, in essence, no more than a raised trotting pole and then it was over. As the school had been a tad damp due to the rain, my once white feathers were a sad bedraggled brown and full of sand. I think the clean up operation took longer than the actual jumping.

Still it was an enjoyable morning and everyone went home happy.

Continued below…


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So I’m keenly awaiting jump training starting – I don’t know whether Aunty Emily, Aunty Becky or mum is going to do it but I just hope it’s soon.

And just because I am a tease I may have news for you all soon. Big NEWS. Keep your eyes peeled on my Facebook pages…

Laters,

Hovis