So there I was undertaking an impromptu pre-6am fence repair this morning after some bugger who shall remain nameless (Q) had at some point during the night taken down a roughly half mile stretch of the lower strand between the top end paddock and the gate, including for good measure six insulators which were found to be in various states of distress and of no further use to anyone. Arses.
While I was toing and froing to the garage and rooting through the rug room for spare insulators, I had a brief time to reflect on the extreme weirdness of the previous night's dream, during which the boys and I found ourselves in Afghanistan, of all places, with the attendant need on my part to keep them from harm, and also from harming one another. And from harm being done to me. The bit I remember most clearly was them being packed away side by side in something amounting to a giant crate for the night, a long thin crate which meant they could barely stand properly let alone move around. True to form, I distinctly remember being quite stressed by this situation and concerned as always for their comfort levels. It was only later that I wondered if the two were connected in any way and my subconscious was trying to alert me to the fact that they'd created their own mini war zone out back. I guess I'll never know.
Did a botch job that was sufficient to get the juice flowing again and hurried indoors, conscious of the time. Sid appeared at the bedroom window. "You're taking too long", he said, rather unnecesasrily I thought. "The fence was down" I replied. "You're taking too long, have you seen the time?" he said. "Yes I know", I said, "the fence was down. I've been fixing it." "Oh - is it fixed?" "Yes". "Did you test the current?" "Yes". And so we continued with the morning ritual.
Later on the train I related the strange dream to him, during which time it transpired that he had had a torrid dream of his own involving a zombie invasion, the chainsaw and the perils involved in running out of petrol for said chainsaw at an inopportune moment. Who's the nutter now eh? Which is the weirdest out of those dreams, eh?
I was itching to get home from work, mainly to check that my botched fencing job had held throughout the day (it had) and to check that Binky and her babies were ok (they were). Spent much of the evening fiddling around taking far too long doing evening stable duties (especially as the boys are living out, albeit still coming in to wee in their stables, which I believe to be wrong and unnecessary in the extreme yet I still can't bring myself to put the beds up and leave them up) before going for a mooch around the field with Dora. Ted decided to come too and spent the first part of the walk rubbing up against my legs, which is not as straightforward as it might be when you're trying to walk along. He then spent a bit of time playing lions, before something approaching a game of tag with Dora. Sweet.
Gave the mud monsters a quick groom - well, as quick as a groom gets when the bulk of the surface area is mud-based - and enjoying the expression on the back of T's head as I picked bits of smeg out of his sheath and Ted rubbed around his legs.
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