Dear diary,
Well just like the blonde bushy haired barnetted human herd leader, I appear to have got away with my indiscretions of the past week – i.e. jumping on Aunty Emily’s toe in a way that sort of broke it like. She has limped to see me and assured me that she doesn’t harbour any grudges and still loves me. This is why she’s my favourite as she forgives and forgets, unlike the mothership whose elephant-sized arse is only matched by her elephant-like memory…
It was thus a nice quiet week last week with mother being away with work as usual and Aunty Em out of action, so I got to hang out in the summer fields and watch the final parts of the new school being finished. On Saturday, mother took the pint-sized palomino for a stressage lesson with the Olympic lady that sometimes tries to turn mini-mother into the next Charlotte-what’s-her-face-in-a-garden. So I got to watch the comedy that is mother trying to reverse the trailer back into a very small space while being ably “assisted” by two males who clearly were somewhat laisse-faire about every having children as they failed to read the warning signs of an imminent gelding which were evident in mother’s eyes.
Sunday saw Cool New Shoes Man turn up to shoe me in the sunlight, bringing Junior Cool New Shoes Man who now towers above CNSM Sr and occasionally wears a very similar expression of What the Flip on his face that I do when mother spouts her claptrap. It must be an aging thing. Even CNSM had to admit I look rather well at the minute as I stood shining in the sunlight, dapples fully on display on my manly and not-at-all-ginger physique. I would have loved to have returned the compliment, but I’m at the right height to see the sun bouncing off his bald patch, which added to the puce colour he always turns when in my presence (I do so wish I could help him overcome his awe) makes him resemble a human lighthouse. I had a nice pedicure, was complimented on my superhero recovery skills as my bad foot is in good shape, had my news shoes put on and was turfed back out to the field.
This I had thus assumed was the end of my Sunday but alas the mothership had other ideas and a few hours later turned back up again to insist we did some work. Amusingly she had forgotten her back brace so was even more decrepit than usual, but we did manage to remain united even through some trot work and a brief moment when to the uneducated it may have looked like I stuck my head between my legs and bounced like Zebedee on a pogo stick. Mother’s growl would have frozen the blood of the grouchiest of grizzly bears as I briefly pondered the options of escalate or capitulate before the reacquaintance of my derriere with senorita schooling whip aided my decision. The rest of our little prance about the school went without incident and while mother’s dismount resembled an overweight sloth falling off a bar stool, she did at least manage to hobble as far as the field to turn me out without injuring any further body parts.
Work continues on my new next book as I broke the news to you last week. The brilliant artist Pilar Larcade, who so kindly does all my illustrations for the books for free, is on the case and mother has been collecting photos and other such like to include alongside my priceless prose. We don’t have a title yet – I am working on it, but ideas are always welcome, so get your thinking caps on.
I’m off to ponder that some more and work on my dapples.
Laters,
Hovis
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