Dear diary,
This evening, as I dictate this to my minion, I am stabled with some of the horse world elite, in the grounds of Windsor Castle and in the presence of her Majesty The Queen. Peoples, I haz arrived!
It has been a busy old week with the mothership and Aunty Em trying valiantly to save on stabling costs and shrink me down to the size of a Shetland pony with more baths than a hippo with OCD and then scrubbing my feathers to the extent they could be seen from space. Admittedly they’re not quite in that state now but more on that later…
On Tuesday morning we loaded up and off we went; the furthest South I’ve ever been and by nothing less than Royal invitation. On arrival, I was shown to my double stable — which apparently is the only double in the area and according to the stable manager the first time in six years she’s ever given a double to anyone. Mother commented this was probably because I have the biggest ass of any horse ever taken to Royal Windsor, not to mention the biggest ego, but waving aside little Miss Sarcastic’s sniping like an annoying knat, the truth of the matter is I got a double because I am me. Simples.
I settled in and introduced myself to several of Guy Williams’ showjumpers who were only a tiny bit star struck, and utterly thrilled to have advice on how to take strides out and bounce doubles. I’ve told you before — I am a coach to the stars…
The following morning, my entourage arrived and escorted me down under the bridge where at that precise moment, the Household Cavalry were riding out overhead. I was unfazed by this, but the two showjumpers who were riding down next to me nearly jumped into my arms like Scooby Doo, causing much reversing and spinning to avoid flying hooves — and that was just dad.
We eventually made it down to my stand having passed many many people who nearly wet themselves with excitement that I was here in the flesh — including one lady on board her showjumper who was so excited she whipped her phone out to take a picture causing the high maintenance steed to nearly floor her. When mother rushed to apologise (assuming as always, I’d done something to cause all this excitement), the woman was thrilled because she’d got a photo of me and not in the slightest bit worried she’d nearly broken her face. People are strange…
The only blot on a lovely first few days has been the weather, the mud (and mother hysteria over the state of my feathers) and the fact I have been made to wear a tiara. I mean really, people? I am man enough to carry anything off but it pushes the limits I have to admit. I had a jewelled blue one that I accidentally managed to break this morning but damn them they have spares so now I’m sporting a green one. My self-respect is hiding under my now mucky feathers and if it wasn’t for the fact I’m being recognised more than even I would have dreamed possible, then I’d be hiding. As it is, I’m fronting it out with more brass than the military band and hoping for the miracle of a lightening strike…
News of the fact I was on site has spread like wild-fire and today my prediction came true. or today I met royalty.
Like proper bona fide Royalty.
The wonderful Countess of Wessex came over to say hello and I actually thought mother might faint. She did at least remember her royal protocol and not say anything too embarrassing. To be honest, being in the presence of such incredible fame is hard for many people to take but with the aid of her aide I thought the Countess did a wonderful job. I am still hopeful of meeting Her Majesty, but since Viagra seems to have got there first this week (his press people must be way better than mine), I am worried that she may have reached her quota of reasonably famous horses before she got to the real deal.
Article continues below…
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So, I have another three days here and no doubt lots more will happen, which I shall fill you in on next week. In the meantime, thank you to everyone who has come to see me, bought my merchandise and supported my work. I’m off to hobnob with the military, Royalty spot and generally enjoy time with my type of people.
Laters,
HRH (His Royal Hovis)
Don’t miss the full reports from Royal Windsor in 16 May issue of Horse & Hound magazine
