Dear diary,
Sorry for the absence last week, but her ladyship bobbed off to Port Seagul with her better half, mini-mother and the brothership’s daughter for the week leaving me sans laptop and minion to type for me.
Personally, I enjoy these wonderfully quiet periods where she is AWOL but I can understand many of you raising your eyebrows at the amount of time she spends in gross dereliction of her duties – and to be clear here, I mean writing down my immensely witty musings and earning money to enable me to continue to support the first class further education of Herman the German Needle Man’s offspring. I would suggest you complain, but as her skin is as thick as her waistline is, she will be positively impervious…
The mothership being away doesn’t mean I get to lay in the lap of luxury doing the same as her (although to be fair, a mother laid covered in suncream in anyone’s lap would be enough to a) induce nightmares and b) have Greenpeace called out to a beached whale…). Oh no. I have to both work and starve to death because she merely elevates Crazy Self-Employed Lady from being second in command to being commander and leaves a list of orders long enough to rival Mariah Carey’s rider.
As I mentioned the other week, her and Cool New Shoes Man had several inappropriate conversations last time he was here – now this is nothing unusual as they are always inappropriate, but this was about my demise and my waist line. Both of which subjects I a) don’t think they should be discussing within my earshot and b) were overwhelmingly ironic considering both have a list of ailments to keep a Harley Street physician in the lifestyle to which they are accustomed until the end of time AND are both at the “show condition” end of the spectrum.
Anyways, because life is completely unfair, and they don’t have anyone to gaffer tape their gobs shut, I am now back on restricted grazing while they continue to free range forage like fat fighters at Cadbury World. Crazy Self-Employed lady has also been taking me out hacking to help with my weight loss and my general health and fitness. As always, the gross unfairness of this situation is overwhelming – my mother’s arse needs a wide load sticker and the last time she was seen to break into anything even resembling a fast walk was when they called last orders… but I’M on a fitness regime. Life, it’s fair to say, sucks harder than a bag of lemons.
In order to try to reverse some of this abuse I am keen to rekindle the excitement of the summer and my stint as unofficial chef de squeak. A national treasure would surely not be subjected to such cruelty and therefore to this end lies my salvation. While I clearly was the reason that Team GB did so well, I am keen to show that it’s not just the world class riders who can benefit from my expertise. I am, after all, a horse of the people and I am keen to help convey the message that eventing is for everyone. I, therefore am offering my substantial coaching skills to anyone who needs assistance with any phase of eventing, at any level. I am happy to answer questions via social media, over the phone or indeed come and coach in-person, offering the same insightful direction as I gave our gold medal-winning team. And that’s before I mention the little chat with the Japanese team and their brilliant bronze.
So send your dilemmas, worries and eventing issues to HovisHeretoHelp and I will help to prevent you being the most watched video on shiteventersunite. Special on-site coaching rates given to any group of six or more mares with low standards and high energy…
Laters,
Hopefully Hovis
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