And trot
And prance
And snort
And fling
And poo
And turn
And sniff
And snort
And squeal
And prance
And stamp
And... graze
And repeat :)
Wednesday 30 June 2010
Tuesday 29 June 2010
Binky's bits
Are no more. I have really mixed feelings about this. I've never seen anyone enjoy being a mum so much as she does and I feel I've taken that away from her, which makes me really sad. OTOH, we can't allow her to keep having babies because there are already far too many unwanted cats needing loving homes, and that is wrong too. I didn't expect to feel so strongly about it but it made me really sad.
She's a marvel of a little cat in so many ways. Probably by dint of the fact that she had her babies in there she got in the cat carrier with no problems - had I known this I wouldn't have spent half the night last night in a state of :O over where I'd put the bird of prey gauntlets and the Kevlar suit. She sat in the car and only said two things (both variations on "mrrrow!") all the way there, which I thought was remarkable. OK she made a run for it in the vet's room and I had to scruff her to get her out from behind the ultrasound, but that's ok.
When I went to collect her she looked so scared, I could have cried, and I felt bad all over again. It's an awful lot for her to go through. The vet felt she probably spent longer in a feral state than with humans. In order to minimse stress to her I had her microchipped and vaccinated while she was under, so all we have to do is go back for her check up and second set of vaccs in two weeks. She doesn't appear to have held any of it against me and is reunited with her babies again. On the plus side she can now grow sleek and lovely and enjoy her babies and hopefully good health.
Meanwhile I saw Ted on Sunday for the first time since the shagging incident in the garden and he looked pretty crap, like he'd lost weight and acquired a limp, so naturally I was worried about him and took him some food and water. He looked as though he'd been in a fight and had definitely done something to his off hind. He's been back for food each day since and is now looking better, and not so lame, so I think he'll be ok but will keep an eye on him. I fear Sid will divorce me if I take any more cats to the vet for the next while. Those nuts have got to come off though (Ted's nuts, just to be clear).
Sid's talking about bringing some of the kittens into the lounge. Mwahahahahahahahahaha! Sometims it's a waiting game but a decision of this sort of moment has to be his, or I will never hear the end of it when they get into everything and start breaking things and causing mayhem. I probably won't anyway, but that's French people for you.
She's a marvel of a little cat in so many ways. Probably by dint of the fact that she had her babies in there she got in the cat carrier with no problems - had I known this I wouldn't have spent half the night last night in a state of :O over where I'd put the bird of prey gauntlets and the Kevlar suit. She sat in the car and only said two things (both variations on "mrrrow!") all the way there, which I thought was remarkable. OK she made a run for it in the vet's room and I had to scruff her to get her out from behind the ultrasound, but that's ok.
When I went to collect her she looked so scared, I could have cried, and I felt bad all over again. It's an awful lot for her to go through. The vet felt she probably spent longer in a feral state than with humans. In order to minimse stress to her I had her microchipped and vaccinated while she was under, so all we have to do is go back for her check up and second set of vaccs in two weeks. She doesn't appear to have held any of it against me and is reunited with her babies again. On the plus side she can now grow sleek and lovely and enjoy her babies and hopefully good health.
Meanwhile I saw Ted on Sunday for the first time since the shagging incident in the garden and he looked pretty crap, like he'd lost weight and acquired a limp, so naturally I was worried about him and took him some food and water. He looked as though he'd been in a fight and had definitely done something to his off hind. He's been back for food each day since and is now looking better, and not so lame, so I think he'll be ok but will keep an eye on him. I fear Sid will divorce me if I take any more cats to the vet for the next while. Those nuts have got to come off though (Ted's nuts, just to be clear).
Sid's talking about bringing some of the kittens into the lounge. Mwahahahahahahahahaha! Sometims it's a waiting game but a decision of this sort of moment has to be his, or I will never hear the end of it when they get into everything and start breaking things and causing mayhem. I probably won't anyway, but that's French people for you.
Saturday 26 June 2010
Three amazing things
All in one day today:
(1) Found Q flat out in the field this morning. First time I've seen this since we've been here. Of course there's that momentary "Christ! Something's happened! Wahhh" feeling, to be quickly replaced by "Ahhhh look, how sweet :mush:".
(2) The arena was finished this afternoon. Woohoo! :tapsfingerswaitingforsurfacetosettlesoIcangoride:
All that remains is to pay the giant bill, but I don't want that to get in the way of the momentousness of the occasion. If I water it relentlessly between now and next week it might be ready next weekend.
(3) I rode T in a state of high excitement and survived. Yes, no sooner had I landed in the saddle and thought "hmmm, you feel a bit lively" than all hell broke loose next door with the arrival of a new horse, lots of shouting, horses galloping everywhere, stallion screaming etc etc etc, all of which T found inordinately exciting. My thought process went something along the lines of "oh fuckety doodads" but in fact we managed and it was fine. There was a lot of excitement, yelling, tension, passage and pinging, but we got through it by a combination of sitting there quietly when I needed to and then pushing him forward as soon as I could, then keeping him busy. I could by no means say that he was relaxed at the end but I rode for about 20 mins I suppose and achieved what I wanted to, which to say getting off with my legs both still pointing in the same direction. Woot!
(1) Found Q flat out in the field this morning. First time I've seen this since we've been here. Of course there's that momentary "Christ! Something's happened! Wahhh" feeling, to be quickly replaced by "Ahhhh look, how sweet :mush:".
(2) The arena was finished this afternoon. Woohoo! :tapsfingerswaitingforsurfacetosettlesoIcangoride:
All that remains is to pay the giant bill, but I don't want that to get in the way of the momentousness of the occasion. If I water it relentlessly between now and next week it might be ready next weekend.
(3) I rode T in a state of high excitement and survived. Yes, no sooner had I landed in the saddle and thought "hmmm, you feel a bit lively" than all hell broke loose next door with the arrival of a new horse, lots of shouting, horses galloping everywhere, stallion screaming etc etc etc, all of which T found inordinately exciting. My thought process went something along the lines of "oh fuckety doodads" but in fact we managed and it was fine. There was a lot of excitement, yelling, tension, passage and pinging, but we got through it by a combination of sitting there quietly when I needed to and then pushing him forward as soon as I could, then keeping him busy. I could by no means say that he was relaxed at the end but I rode for about 20 mins I suppose and achieved what I wanted to, which to say getting off with my legs both still pointing in the same direction. Woot!
Friday 25 June 2010
Wahing and wallets
Never let it be said that we ever have a dull moment. Sid had his wallet stolen last night, in a series of events which led to him being stuck in London after the last train with no way to obtain money. I was alerted to this during the post-midnight hours and there followed a series of desperate calls to stop cards and a late trip out to the village to get money for a cab home (!), all of which culminated in a very unrestful and somewhat expensive night for us both.
It was somewhat fortuitous that I had already arranged to work from home today as it meant I could get up at 8am instead of 5.30am, a net gain of some 2.5 hours which went some way towards restoring the deficit. Not all the way, but sufficient to allow me to ensconce myself on the patio, weld myself to my laptop and feverishly bang away at it all day to get my five year plan done. It's very nearly finished and I am very nearly really pleased with it. By virtue of my trusty nanod replete with Hendrix-enhanced shuffle and a single-minded determination to get at least one of a whole tribe of monkeys off my back, I was able to effectively zone out any potential distraction caused by the ongoing arena construction just yards away and really get on with it. Anyone that knows of my flea-like attention span will recognise this as the gargantuan effort that it was, and mill around me murmuring enthusastically about what a stellar example of mind over matter I had undertaken. This in spite of a series of work-related irritations throughout the day which I could talk about but then I'd have to kill you, and frankly the patio isn't big enough to cope with the projected number of bodies. Mind you, I do have access to an impressive array of heavy duty digging equipment strewn about the place at this precise moment, so maybe I could take the risk and then dispose of the evidence in a mass grave in one of the paddocks.But that would be assuming that I can be arsed, and that would be incorrect.
In other news, I have booked in Slinky Binky for her snippage on Tuesday, spurred into action by the sight of her and Ted going at it not yards from the patio door the other day and considering just how much worse my situation would be if I ended up with not 8 extra cats, but some fearful number equal to or greater than, say, 15. Especially in a climate of economic doom and austerity where no bugger within Kent or without appears to be on the market for kittens.
That's it really.
It was somewhat fortuitous that I had already arranged to work from home today as it meant I could get up at 8am instead of 5.30am, a net gain of some 2.5 hours which went some way towards restoring the deficit. Not all the way, but sufficient to allow me to ensconce myself on the patio, weld myself to my laptop and feverishly bang away at it all day to get my five year plan done. It's very nearly finished and I am very nearly really pleased with it. By virtue of my trusty nanod replete with Hendrix-enhanced shuffle and a single-minded determination to get at least one of a whole tribe of monkeys off my back, I was able to effectively zone out any potential distraction caused by the ongoing arena construction just yards away and really get on with it. Anyone that knows of my flea-like attention span will recognise this as the gargantuan effort that it was, and mill around me murmuring enthusastically about what a stellar example of mind over matter I had undertaken. This in spite of a series of work-related irritations throughout the day which I could talk about but then I'd have to kill you, and frankly the patio isn't big enough to cope with the projected number of bodies. Mind you, I do have access to an impressive array of heavy duty digging equipment strewn about the place at this precise moment, so maybe I could take the risk and then dispose of the evidence in a mass grave in one of the paddocks.But that would be assuming that I can be arsed, and that would be incorrect.
In other news, I have booked in Slinky Binky for her snippage on Tuesday, spurred into action by the sight of her and Ted going at it not yards from the patio door the other day and considering just how much worse my situation would be if I ended up with not 8 extra cats, but some fearful number equal to or greater than, say, 15. Especially in a climate of economic doom and austerity where no bugger within Kent or without appears to be on the market for kittens.
That's it really.
Wednesday 23 June 2010
Tiredness as art form, and other observations
It turns out that Monday's perkiness was either a fluke or a random accumulation of a week's worth of energy in one day. For the second day running I can barely put one foot in front of the other. Can't decide whether it's some latent, terminal illness that will see me off by the middle of next month or merely the cumulative effect of seven months of prolonged stress and unprecedented levels of busy-ness, with home and work projects on the go at all times and nary a five minute break to sit and rock quietly backwards and forwards in a dark room somewhere by way of recovery. Oh, and hayfever which assails my mucosal linings the moment I step out of the sodding door. Must cling on for hols in a month's time, in spite of the mountain of things to do between now and then.
Rashly I decided to work T last night, in spite of being an energy free zone and in spite of knowing deep in my bones that it really was a day when horses are best left alone, especially large energetic stallions full of spring grass. It was more of a bean distribution exercise than any real constructive work as such. Slinky Binky came home in the midst of it after a night on the tiles and was yowling at the door to get to the mittens just as I was finishing up, so I untacked T, left him in the picadeiro and went trotting across the yard like the well trained cat staff that I am to let her in. Am sure she goes off just to get the joyous welcome when she comes back. As T was keeping himself occupied by doing caprioles in the middle of the picadeiro and otherwise flinging himself around in an orgy of hair and legs, I figured that a bit more work would be the thing, so had him canter for 10 minutes until he started licking and chewing and showing signs of attention. Thereafter he was ok and only mildly irritating for his post-work ablutions. I love that word: ablutions. There it is again :)
For my part I was in bed by 9.15, snoring by 9.30, woken about 10ish wondering if Sid was home, woken about 11.30 by Sid coming home, then about 3 ish by him coming to bed after falling asleep on the sofa, then at 4am precisely by the raucous snuffling noises emerging from the other side of the bed at such a rate of decibels that I was forced to retreat upstairs. Is it any wonder that I'm tired?
Rashly I decided to work T last night, in spite of being an energy free zone and in spite of knowing deep in my bones that it really was a day when horses are best left alone, especially large energetic stallions full of spring grass. It was more of a bean distribution exercise than any real constructive work as such. Slinky Binky came home in the midst of it after a night on the tiles and was yowling at the door to get to the mittens just as I was finishing up, so I untacked T, left him in the picadeiro and went trotting across the yard like the well trained cat staff that I am to let her in. Am sure she goes off just to get the joyous welcome when she comes back. As T was keeping himself occupied by doing caprioles in the middle of the picadeiro and otherwise flinging himself around in an orgy of hair and legs, I figured that a bit more work would be the thing, so had him canter for 10 minutes until he started licking and chewing and showing signs of attention. Thereafter he was ok and only mildly irritating for his post-work ablutions. I love that word: ablutions. There it is again :)
For my part I was in bed by 9.15, snoring by 9.30, woken about 10ish wondering if Sid was home, woken about 11.30 by Sid coming home, then about 3 ish by him coming to bed after falling asleep on the sofa, then at 4am precisely by the raucous snuffling noises emerging from the other side of the bed at such a rate of decibels that I was forced to retreat upstairs. Is it any wonder that I'm tired?
Tuesday 22 June 2010
Grand developments
After quite a shitty and stressy weekend I felt quite perky on Monday; got quite a lot done at work and bounced (ok fell asleep, missed Tonbridge, snored and most likely dribbled) my way home and decided to ride Q. Work on the arena is going very well and we've had cause to reconsider our surface, so a bit of research to be done there. And, needless to say, a bit more money.
Q was on very good form and blissful to ride; I love him when he's like that. Not that I don't always love him, of course. It's just that on occasion the depth and breadth of my love for him might lurk a little further below the surface when, for example, he's trashed the fence again for the 40th time in a week, or when he's charging around high on spring grass not wanting me to catch him. It was still pretty warm so we interspersed a lot of lateral work with stretchy trot and finished up with piaffe. I wish it was as established in hand as I'd enjoy working him in hand with it too to help him get stronger, but I feel Rui's expertise will be needed to assist us with that. What's great though is all I have to do by way of aids is "assume the position" and he knows exactly what's being asked. Bless his beautiful big Portuguese heart. I love Lusos I do. Which, on balance, is just as well.
Speaking of Portugal, we've been on tenterhooks this week waiting for news on the grading of the mares. I was staggered, quite literally, to learn that Alfama got 73.5 points and Xacra 75.5! This is momentous news for us and all we now have to hope is that Xacra can join Alfama in uptheduffness and they can both come home to Blighty as soon as it is safe for them to travel. Once we've dispensed with the top soil from the arena by flattening, rolling and reseeding, and getting rid of that remaining rubble once and for all. Oh, and arranged some sort of field shelter. It's all actually starting to become a reality, the concept of having all the horses together on our own place so that we may begin our breeding plans.I must confess that I was nervous about the grading as Xacra is not a big mare and we haven't seen Alfama since she was two years old, so this is really excellent news.
I've pretty much decided on a Flexiride surface for the arena. We are looking at it being finished on Saturday and then there's the small matter of having to sit and look at it for TWO WEEKS while it settles. Nobody mentioned the need to sit and look at it for two weeks.
Q was on very good form and blissful to ride; I love him when he's like that. Not that I don't always love him, of course. It's just that on occasion the depth and breadth of my love for him might lurk a little further below the surface when, for example, he's trashed the fence again for the 40th time in a week, or when he's charging around high on spring grass not wanting me to catch him. It was still pretty warm so we interspersed a lot of lateral work with stretchy trot and finished up with piaffe. I wish it was as established in hand as I'd enjoy working him in hand with it too to help him get stronger, but I feel Rui's expertise will be needed to assist us with that. What's great though is all I have to do by way of aids is "assume the position" and he knows exactly what's being asked. Bless his beautiful big Portuguese heart. I love Lusos I do. Which, on balance, is just as well.
Speaking of Portugal, we've been on tenterhooks this week waiting for news on the grading of the mares. I was staggered, quite literally, to learn that Alfama got 73.5 points and Xacra 75.5! This is momentous news for us and all we now have to hope is that Xacra can join Alfama in uptheduffness and they can both come home to Blighty as soon as it is safe for them to travel. Once we've dispensed with the top soil from the arena by flattening, rolling and reseeding, and getting rid of that remaining rubble once and for all. Oh, and arranged some sort of field shelter. It's all actually starting to become a reality, the concept of having all the horses together on our own place so that we may begin our breeding plans.I must confess that I was nervous about the grading as Xacra is not a big mare and we haven't seen Alfama since she was two years old, so this is really excellent news.
I've pretty much decided on a Flexiride surface for the arena. We are looking at it being finished on Saturday and then there's the small matter of having to sit and look at it for TWO WEEKS while it settles. Nobody mentioned the need to sit and look at it for two weeks.
Sunday 20 June 2010
Oh God
There's no doubt about it, it's a fine thing to have your horses at home, it really is. But, one also pays dearly for it in terms of the overwhelming amount of STUFF that there always is to be done. It's not so much the farm as work at the moment and I first realised on Thursday morning that stress is starting to worm its tenacious, sticky tendrils into my brain, which took me by surprise as it always does. I cope and cope and cope and then wallop. The first sign is invariably a sense of hysteria building up in response to things you'd normally deal with without batting an eyelid :sigh: Here isn't the place to go into too much detail but yesterday I found myself in the farm shop feeling like my world had caved in because we'd had no interest in the kittens yet; not that I want them to go but then I can't keep the house under control with that many cats for too much longer either. Arrgghhhh. Then I saw Pheel in the feed merchants and realised I was going to burst into tears if I did more than grunt at him, so I did the only thing I could, which was to stop off and take the pooch for a nice long walk and sit and blart quietly to myself under a tree for half an hour. Why? Fuctifino. I suppose it's just the relentlessness of it all and the fact that I spend the best part of four hours a day commuting. A bit more flexibility here and there wouldn't go amiss. Maybe I need a job closer to home. Or better still, win the lottery. It all feels ungrateful somehow especially at this time when the mares are coming over soon and the arena construction is under way, but it's really not. I guess my body is screaming "time out, people!". Just cling on for the hols Rachibum and try to keep your mind off the fact that you're clinging on by fingernails that have been bitten down to the quick and are consequently a bit ouchy.
The boys are a pair of wild men atm and needing lots of sweaty saddle pad sessions. I so happened to be working T when Pheel and his merry men arrived to drop off the much anticipated chain harrow and finish off the telepraph poles for the raised beds. I don't know why I didn't stop; possibly because I was feeling pretty ragged - so he waited for a bit and then went again. I rang him afterwards and had to explain it wasn't him, promptly burst into tears again (this is so not my preferred way of being) and ended up having a lovely chat with him about what happens when it all gets too much. He's a grand bloke, he really is. I felt a bit bad bending his ear because he has it a lot worse than I do - I really don't know how he does it.
Meanwhile the boys had the fence down AGAIN and I wanted to beat the pair of them to death, but luckily Sid stepped in and came to fix it. They're only doing what they need to do according to their natural imperatives, but that doesn't mean it isn't bloody irritating when it happens so often atm. So I put them out in the summer paddocks a bit earlier than usual and went indoors and bolted the door. This morning they've had the fence down once more; we'll, they've snapped off a number of insulators but the current is still going through ok. I think maybe a strengthening at the corners nearest the mares would be in order and I have some ideas about that.
Now that I've purged myself I can go and tackle the house, the garden and those wild stallions.
The boys are a pair of wild men atm and needing lots of sweaty saddle pad sessions. I so happened to be working T when Pheel and his merry men arrived to drop off the much anticipated chain harrow and finish off the telepraph poles for the raised beds. I don't know why I didn't stop; possibly because I was feeling pretty ragged - so he waited for a bit and then went again. I rang him afterwards and had to explain it wasn't him, promptly burst into tears again (this is so not my preferred way of being) and ended up having a lovely chat with him about what happens when it all gets too much. He's a grand bloke, he really is. I felt a bit bad bending his ear because he has it a lot worse than I do - I really don't know how he does it.
Meanwhile the boys had the fence down AGAIN and I wanted to beat the pair of them to death, but luckily Sid stepped in and came to fix it. They're only doing what they need to do according to their natural imperatives, but that doesn't mean it isn't bloody irritating when it happens so often atm. So I put them out in the summer paddocks a bit earlier than usual and went indoors and bolted the door. This morning they've had the fence down once more; we'll, they've snapped off a number of insulators but the current is still going through ok. I think maybe a strengthening at the corners nearest the mares would be in order and I have some ideas about that.
Now that I've purged myself I can go and tackle the house, the garden and those wild stallions.
Friday 18 June 2010
Stallion shenanigans, Churchill, Awards Dos and Riding Arenas
The title alludes neatly to the possibility that it's been a week of quite extraordinarily random events, and indeed it has.
Worked the boys on Tuesday night. Q: the model of decorum and loveliness. T: the anti-stallion.He has this thing where he twists his head in a certain way and is able to get out of his headcollar. Most times it's not a biggie as I simply gather him up before he realises he's free and nobody is any the worse off. On this occasion I was in the wrong position and before I knew it he was off. He went on the raised bed, considered going for a mooch in the garden but was put off by the slightly too narrow a gap, went in the hay barn and then out onto the site for the arena, having a rare old time flirting over the fence with Q, charging around with absolute gay abandon, jumping telegraph poles and such, all with an air of "I'm FREEE! FREEE!" which is a bit rich, quite frankly, when:
(a) he lives out 24/7, coming and going as he pleases, and
(b) I'm tired and I really want to go and lie down, not spend the evening chasing recalcitrant stallions about the place.
Eventually gathered him up and took him to the picadeiro to work him. And work him and work him and work him. We were just getting somewhere in terms of attention when a sodding pikey pony and trap went by and we lost it again. It was one of those evenings where I could still be there even now and it wouldn't have made any odds. Plus I'd have had to spend another three days cooling him out.
Finished on a good note, took him back to the yard, remonstrated with him about standing quietly like a good boy and insisted he stand there (like a good boy, if not actually a good boy) to have his feet done. No sooner had I finished than he did it again! Arrggghhh! As I remarked to him some while later, it's as well I couldn't physically get my hands around his neck or I'd have had to wring it for him.
Next day: a trip to the Cabinet War Rooms just off Westminster, for a conference. This enabled me to enjoy a splendid walk around St James's Park enjoying the sunshine and the people enjoying the sunshine also, as a mark of how old I truly am. The best bit of all though was it didn't start til 10:30, a fact which meant that I didn't have to get the train until 8:15! Meaning a lie in until 7am! The number of exclamation marks used in those last few sentences is a telling representation of just how overawed I was to have a lie in during the week. Even if it was rather marred by (a) more raucous than usual night time snufflings of the French persuasion, and (b) a madly itching hand that hasn't been quite the same since something bit it in the garden on Sunday. A something which I rather suspect to consist of 8 legs. Mind control Rachibum.
Thursday: awards do at posh Park Lane hotel. It was a good bash all in all even though we didn't win any awards; highlights were the free chamapagne, the comedian wotsisname Armstrong from Armstrong & Miller and seeing my old boss Alison, of whom I am inordinately fond and who I have not seen for many years. Age-related prudence saw me heading off to Charing Cross for the penultimate train rather than hedging my bets that the last one would be running unmolested by cock ups, signal failures or random crapness on the part of Network Rail, and I was just congratulating myself for having arrived there with ten minutes to spare when I noticed the telltale board full of CANCELLED notices. ARSES. Giant, hairy, skanky, sweaty arses. It transpires that there was a fatality at New Cross when someone was "struck" by a train, surely a euphemism in this case for "splattered". Not nice I know but as someone rather pragmatically pointed out to me this morning, quite why they have to close every single sodding track out to the south coast is anybody's guess. Maybe the bits were flung so far and wide that all tracks did indeed have to be switched off to enable them to be bagged up.
Eventually I got a train to Tonbridge and was then able to limp home through a convoluted chain of events that saw me roll up at home at around 1am. With a dog barking at me from my own garden. I couldn't help but notice either that this Wasn't My Dog. Turns out it was a dog belonging to the former owner - two dogs in fact. Just left there presumably because they'd run off exploring. I would ask exactly what sort of person leaves their dogs out to fend for themselves overnight while they drive off home, but I know the answer to that already. I couldn't bring them in as there was literally no room at the inn, what with Slinky Binky and the Mittens taking up residence of the bulk of the lower floor.
All of this and I haven't even mentioned yet the fact that work has begun on our arena! YAY! Am so excited to have that done that I'm well able to ignore the fact that I had to auction off Sid's body for medical research on the internet in order to get it done, and hoping that the adrenaline rush will give me a good month of dedicated horsey doings after work, no matter how completely shagged I am when I get home.
Worked the boys on Tuesday night. Q: the model of decorum and loveliness. T: the anti-stallion.He has this thing where he twists his head in a certain way and is able to get out of his headcollar. Most times it's not a biggie as I simply gather him up before he realises he's free and nobody is any the worse off. On this occasion I was in the wrong position and before I knew it he was off. He went on the raised bed, considered going for a mooch in the garden but was put off by the slightly too narrow a gap, went in the hay barn and then out onto the site for the arena, having a rare old time flirting over the fence with Q, charging around with absolute gay abandon, jumping telegraph poles and such, all with an air of "I'm FREEE! FREEE!" which is a bit rich, quite frankly, when:
(a) he lives out 24/7, coming and going as he pleases, and
(b) I'm tired and I really want to go and lie down, not spend the evening chasing recalcitrant stallions about the place.
Eventually gathered him up and took him to the picadeiro to work him. And work him and work him and work him. We were just getting somewhere in terms of attention when a sodding pikey pony and trap went by and we lost it again. It was one of those evenings where I could still be there even now and it wouldn't have made any odds. Plus I'd have had to spend another three days cooling him out.
Finished on a good note, took him back to the yard, remonstrated with him about standing quietly like a good boy and insisted he stand there (like a good boy, if not actually a good boy) to have his feet done. No sooner had I finished than he did it again! Arrggghhh! As I remarked to him some while later, it's as well I couldn't physically get my hands around his neck or I'd have had to wring it for him.
Next day: a trip to the Cabinet War Rooms just off Westminster, for a conference. This enabled me to enjoy a splendid walk around St James's Park enjoying the sunshine and the people enjoying the sunshine also, as a mark of how old I truly am. The best bit of all though was it didn't start til 10:30, a fact which meant that I didn't have to get the train until 8:15! Meaning a lie in until 7am! The number of exclamation marks used in those last few sentences is a telling representation of just how overawed I was to have a lie in during the week. Even if it was rather marred by (a) more raucous than usual night time snufflings of the French persuasion, and (b) a madly itching hand that hasn't been quite the same since something bit it in the garden on Sunday. A something which I rather suspect to consist of 8 legs
Thursday: awards do at posh Park Lane hotel. It was a good bash all in all even though we didn't win any awards; highlights were the free chamapagne, the comedian wotsisname Armstrong from Armstrong & Miller and seeing my old boss Alison, of whom I am inordinately fond and who I have not seen for many years. Age-related prudence saw me heading off to Charing Cross for the penultimate train rather than hedging my bets that the last one would be running unmolested by cock ups, signal failures or random crapness on the part of Network Rail, and I was just congratulating myself for having arrived there with ten minutes to spare when I noticed the telltale board full of CANCELLED notices. ARSES. Giant, hairy, skanky, sweaty arses. It transpires that there was a fatality at New Cross when someone was "struck" by a train, surely a euphemism in this case for "splattered". Not nice I know but as someone rather pragmatically pointed out to me this morning, quite why they have to close every single sodding track out to the south coast is anybody's guess. Maybe the bits were flung so far and wide that all tracks did indeed have to be switched off to enable them to be bagged up.
Eventually I got a train to Tonbridge and was then able to limp home through a convoluted chain of events that saw me roll up at home at around 1am. With a dog barking at me from my own garden. I couldn't help but notice either that this Wasn't My Dog. Turns out it was a dog belonging to the former owner - two dogs in fact. Just left there presumably because they'd run off exploring. I would ask exactly what sort of person leaves their dogs out to fend for themselves overnight while they drive off home, but I know the answer to that already. I couldn't bring them in as there was literally no room at the inn, what with Slinky Binky and the Mittens taking up residence of the bulk of the lower floor.
All of this and I haven't even mentioned yet the fact that work has begun on our arena! YAY! Am so excited to have that done that I'm well able to ignore the fact that I had to auction off Sid's body for medical research on the internet in order to get it done, and hoping that the adrenaline rush will give me a good month of dedicated horsey doings after work, no matter how completely shagged I am when I get home.
Sunday 13 June 2010
I'm glad we had our lazy day yesterday as today certainly made up for it. I rode Q this morning who was much better in terms of settling for grooming and preps; just did a little milling in hand before clambering on. He was in good form and we did loads of transitions, working up to "touch and go". I was keen to revisit the collected canter work from yesterday, not least to see if the developments I'd felt had been some sort of fluke. It turns out that no, it was no fluke and he was apt to sit more on the right rein from walk-canter and reinback-canter. As is his tendency he is a master at making it easier for himself and will take a quarters-in approach if he even whiffs an opportunity so I shall have to guard for that but even so he's not going against the hand as he was so there is definite progress. Maybe it's all that standing on his hind legs battling with T over the fence.
Went back to the farm shop afterwards to advertise the kittens. Wahhhhh I don't WANNA. Am having to exercise full mind control over this but really we can't keep all those cats however sweet they are. Meanwhile they are galloping around the place making a suprising amount of noise for such little bodies, and the rescue kitten is going great guns too by not allowing the mere fact of her roughly third of the bodyweight of the others to stop her from participating fully in the rough and tumble of daily play. Ballsy little thing she is. So just for the record Sid says we are going to keep the tabby, the tortie and the rescue. That's Sid's decision and not mine. Should there later be French strops (as I fully expect that there will) about all those bloody cats I shall remind him of this.
I lunged T in the field (a) while I still can, and (b) to give us extra space, and he enjoyed the opportunity to really move out. Wish I'd ridden him but there were so many things crowding around in my head to do I felt the best course would be to lunge him and crack on with it. Must note to self how much better it is to get them both done in the morning to give me the rest of the day for other doings; it's so much better. As it was I could put them out in the summer paddocks and crack on, first of all by finishing the weeding of the front garden - which sounds easy when you say it quick but in fact was the work of a couple of hours involving me pitting my wits and increasingly puny muscles against a series of partiularly determined grasses, brambles and those sticky climbing things that get into everything and are a bugger to shift. Now I look like I've been dragged through a hedge of hawthorn at speed.
I've also poo picked four paddocks (6 barrows) in lieu of the fact that Pheeel has not turned up with our sodding chain harrow and helped Sid finish off the electric fencing, which he spent all day doing. We've added another strand along the top of the adjoining paddocks in the hope that it will cut down on those 5.30am fence repairs, and also in preparation for when the boys have free access to their summer grazing. I'm going to start putting them out there overnight from Monday evening, which will work out better in terms of getting them worked in the evening and so far so good in terms of their coping with the grazing.
So here I sit. completely farked and contemplating, as I often do on a Sunday evening, just how it is I'm going to drg myself through another week of full on work, with so many projects on the go that sometimes I find myself in the office staring into space wondering what the hell I'm going to do next out of a wealth of Things To Do. Sometimes I'm not sure that making a list is all that constructive a thing to do.
At least I've remembered to charge up my nanod, which is good, as sometimes it's the only thing that keeps me sane on a daily commute awash with petty irritations for the terminally fatigued.
Went back to the farm shop afterwards to advertise the kittens. Wahhhhh I don't WANNA. Am having to exercise full mind control over this but really we can't keep all those cats however sweet they are. Meanwhile they are galloping around the place making a suprising amount of noise for such little bodies, and the rescue kitten is going great guns too by not allowing the mere fact of her roughly third of the bodyweight of the others to stop her from participating fully in the rough and tumble of daily play. Ballsy little thing she is. So just for the record Sid says we are going to keep the tabby, the tortie and the rescue. That's Sid's decision and not mine. Should there later be French strops (as I fully expect that there will) about all those bloody cats I shall remind him of this.
I lunged T in the field (a) while I still can, and (b) to give us extra space, and he enjoyed the opportunity to really move out. Wish I'd ridden him but there were so many things crowding around in my head to do I felt the best course would be to lunge him and crack on with it. Must note to self how much better it is to get them both done in the morning to give me the rest of the day for other doings; it's so much better. As it was I could put them out in the summer paddocks and crack on, first of all by finishing the weeding of the front garden - which sounds easy when you say it quick but in fact was the work of a couple of hours involving me pitting my wits and increasingly puny muscles against a series of partiularly determined grasses, brambles and those sticky climbing things that get into everything and are a bugger to shift. Now I look like I've been dragged through a hedge of hawthorn at speed.
I've also poo picked four paddocks (6 barrows) in lieu of the fact that Pheeel has not turned up with our sodding chain harrow and helped Sid finish off the electric fencing, which he spent all day doing. We've added another strand along the top of the adjoining paddocks in the hope that it will cut down on those 5.30am fence repairs, and also in preparation for when the boys have free access to their summer grazing. I'm going to start putting them out there overnight from Monday evening, which will work out better in terms of getting them worked in the evening and so far so good in terms of their coping with the grazing.
So here I sit. completely farked and contemplating, as I often do on a Sunday evening, just how it is I'm going to drg myself through another week of full on work, with so many projects on the go that sometimes I find myself in the office staring into space wondering what the hell I'm going to do next out of a wealth of Things To Do. Sometimes I'm not sure that making a list is all that constructive a thing to do.
At least I've remembered to charge up my nanod, which is good, as sometimes it's the only thing that keeps me sane on a daily commute awash with petty irritations for the terminally fatigued.
Saturday 12 June 2010
Relaxation
After being such a loon yesterday, T was excellent today; very calm and enjoyed a good groom. Such a good lad he is. We did an in hand session and they've been out all afternoon in their summer paddocks. Will repeat tomorrow and then they can go out overnight in there from next week, which will suit me better as atm I tend to not work them as much as I should so they can have a good three hours out there of an evening. It's difficult to schedule an extra hour at a time out there when I'm fitting it all in around work; they've had six hours today and overnight will be about 8, from Monday night.
The baby kitten is looking much more lively and starting to play. It's a game little bugger considering it's about a third of the size of the others and does get barrelled about a lot but doesn't seem to come to any harm.
For my part I have had a much needed very lazy afternoon; a hot bath, a kip and a spot of light gardening; bliss. Sid has made a barbie, there's a bottle of Amarone on the go and I have a box of cupcakes in front of me. OK the footie is on but you can't have everything.
The baby kitten is looking much more lively and starting to play. It's a game little bugger considering it's about a third of the size of the others and does get barrelled about a lot but doesn't seem to come to any harm.
For my part I have had a much needed very lazy afternoon; a hot bath, a kip and a spot of light gardening; bliss. Sid has made a barbie, there's a bottle of Amarone on the go and I have a box of cupcakes in front of me. OK the footie is on but you can't have everything.
Boys doings
It's been impossible to avoid noticing that the boys are getting a bit big for their boots of late, so much are they enjoying their lives as the wild men of the Kent Weald, with their long matted locks and mud-encrusted coats. T has taken a load of fur off his leg and it hasn't been easy ministering to half a ton of excited stallion. Normal methods haven't really worked to settle him so the only other option is a Big Stick with which to wallop him when he dangerously ignores my presence. Have to keep any emotion out of it, just whack him when he starts and better even if he doesn't see it's me. Upshot was finally he stood to let me do his feet and Hibiscrub his wound-ette. So much testosterone, so little time.
Similarly this morning Q was yelling and weaving and generally being a complete arse, and there's No Need for it, so he got the same treatment and within minutes was standing like the good boy I know him to be under all that bluster and unnecessary bollocks.
Rui has left me with the homework to engage that right hind into the party to develop the collection that we have in the left canter and which enables him to work Q in left canter at the long reins but not so much on the right. We've been working on this as and when I find the energy to drag my sagging, bone-weary carcass up the yard and the result today was some much more encouraging work without him coming up against the hand in his efforts to avoid engagement. Milling helps this enormously and he was a very good lad after all tht silliness, and stood much better to be untacked afterwards.
Similarly this morning Q was yelling and weaving and generally being a complete arse, and there's No Need for it, so he got the same treatment and within minutes was standing like the good boy I know him to be under all that bluster and unnecessary bollocks.
Rui has left me with the homework to engage that right hind into the party to develop the collection that we have in the left canter and which enables him to work Q in left canter at the long reins but not so much on the right. We've been working on this as and when I find the energy to drag my sagging, bone-weary carcass up the yard and the result today was some much more encouraging work without him coming up against the hand in his efforts to avoid engagement. Milling helps this enormously and he was a very good lad after all tht silliness, and stood much better to be untacked afterwards.
Friday 11 June 2010
Cat doings
This week it's been mostly about our furry friends and the agonies they put us through. Sid and I spent a pleasant five hours or so redoing some of the electric fencing where the fumiste bloke had put loads of unnecessary knots in it thus reducing the current by several orders of magnitude. The weather was really nice and warm when we started off and we ended up soaked through to the knicker elastic. Amazing how quickly the weather can come in with a following wind (ho ho).
Anyway. Somewhere in the middle of all that Binky had gone out for an afternoon constitutional and was taking her time coming back; when we finally finished our fencing activities around the 8.30 mark, still no Binky. We had to get up at an even more ridiculous hour than normal as Sid was off to Amsterdam for a couple of days so ideally that would have indicated an early night, but no. 11.30 and still no Binky, no matter how forlornly or how long I stood out there calling her. Spent some time with the kittens and went off to bed, only to wake suddenly at 3.30am convinced that she was outside. Fumbled my way downstairs to find that no, she wasn't.
Still no Binky next morning :( drove Sid to the station at 6am then back home just in case but nothing. It was funny though because although my brain was really worried, messages from my body (which I have learnt to pay more attention to) were that I shouldn't worry, so the net result was that I oscillated between those two points.
I was pretty desperate to get home on Monday night, thinking she'd definitely be there, but still no Binky. Wahhhhhh. Spent quite a bit of time with the kittens, pleasantly comfortably sat on a bean bag with four of them swarming over me. They seemed to be coping and made the most of the minced free range roast chicken I just happened to have lying around.
Tuesday morning, no Binky. Hmmm. Either something's happened to her or she's off shagging. Got home Tuesday night not really holding out much hope that she'd be back, so it took my synapses a few seconds longer than usual to register the fact that she was actually sat there in the front garden, patiently waiting for me to arrive home :) I'm not sure who was more pleased; me to see her or her to get such a warm welcome, and she was full of chirrupy sweetness, both for me and her babies. It was lovely to see her walk straight into the kitchen, just as though she'd lived there for weeks and been waited on hand and foot with fresh fish and chicken and provided a safe haven and everything she needed to raise her lovely babies and generally been fussed over and welcomed into the family bosom. It's a funny thing, n'est-ce pas?
Needless to say the babies were thrilled to see her and swarmed all over her, though I was gratified that they also came to greet me as erstwhile supply mom while Binky was AWOL.
So you'd think would be enough drama, right? Me too. On Wednesday evening I kept hearing a mewling noise but couldn't place it, eventually thinking it was somewhere outside but couldn't see anything untoward, so went about my doings in the normal fashion and went off to bed somewhat later. Next morning at 5.30am there was the unmistakeable desperate mewling of a kitten in trouble and a protracted series efforts in tracking down the noise (involving clambering about on the kitchen roof barefoot in my jim jams, still bog eyed and bleary) led me to the undeniable conclusion that said kitten was somehow trapped inside a box below the guttering.
Sid wasn't best pleased at the subsequent need for a rescue mission at this ungodly hour of the morning but there was nothing else for it but to set to with a pair of chisels and wrench the thing apart to get to the kitten. What a tiny, pathetic, shivering little thing came out! No idea how long it had been there and more to the point perhaps howw the buggery it had got there in the first place.
Anyway, so we'd rescued it; great! Now what? There was only one thing to do really and that was to leave it with Binky and let it take its chances, so that's what I did. Immediately she started licking it, went over on her back and seemed to be pushing it towards her teats. Awwww. What an amazing cat she is. We were both a bit choked about that.
So we'll see. It's small and weak but feeding regularly and being barrelled around a lot by the others and seems to be getting stronger. Fingers crossed.
Anyway. Somewhere in the middle of all that Binky had gone out for an afternoon constitutional and was taking her time coming back; when we finally finished our fencing activities around the 8.30 mark, still no Binky. We had to get up at an even more ridiculous hour than normal as Sid was off to Amsterdam for a couple of days so ideally that would have indicated an early night, but no. 11.30 and still no Binky, no matter how forlornly or how long I stood out there calling her. Spent some time with the kittens and went off to bed, only to wake suddenly at 3.30am convinced that she was outside. Fumbled my way downstairs to find that no, she wasn't.
Still no Binky next morning :( drove Sid to the station at 6am then back home just in case but nothing. It was funny though because although my brain was really worried, messages from my body (which I have learnt to pay more attention to) were that I shouldn't worry, so the net result was that I oscillated between those two points.
I was pretty desperate to get home on Monday night, thinking she'd definitely be there, but still no Binky. Wahhhhhh. Spent quite a bit of time with the kittens, pleasantly comfortably sat on a bean bag with four of them swarming over me. They seemed to be coping and made the most of the minced free range roast chicken I just happened to have lying around.
Tuesday morning, no Binky. Hmmm. Either something's happened to her or she's off shagging. Got home Tuesday night not really holding out much hope that she'd be back, so it took my synapses a few seconds longer than usual to register the fact that she was actually sat there in the front garden, patiently waiting for me to arrive home :) I'm not sure who was more pleased; me to see her or her to get such a warm welcome, and she was full of chirrupy sweetness, both for me and her babies. It was lovely to see her walk straight into the kitchen, just as though she'd lived there for weeks and been waited on hand and foot with fresh fish and chicken and provided a safe haven and everything she needed to raise her lovely babies and generally been fussed over and welcomed into the family bosom. It's a funny thing, n'est-ce pas?
Needless to say the babies were thrilled to see her and swarmed all over her, though I was gratified that they also came to greet me as erstwhile supply mom while Binky was AWOL.
So you'd think would be enough drama, right? Me too. On Wednesday evening I kept hearing a mewling noise but couldn't place it, eventually thinking it was somewhere outside but couldn't see anything untoward, so went about my doings in the normal fashion and went off to bed somewhat later. Next morning at 5.30am there was the unmistakeable desperate mewling of a kitten in trouble and a protracted series efforts in tracking down the noise (involving clambering about on the kitchen roof barefoot in my jim jams, still bog eyed and bleary) led me to the undeniable conclusion that said kitten was somehow trapped inside a box below the guttering.
Sid wasn't best pleased at the subsequent need for a rescue mission at this ungodly hour of the morning but there was nothing else for it but to set to with a pair of chisels and wrench the thing apart to get to the kitten. What a tiny, pathetic, shivering little thing came out! No idea how long it had been there and more to the point perhaps howw the buggery it had got there in the first place.
Anyway, so we'd rescued it; great! Now what? There was only one thing to do really and that was to leave it with Binky and let it take its chances, so that's what I did. Immediately she started licking it, went over on her back and seemed to be pushing it towards her teats. Awwww. What an amazing cat she is. We were both a bit choked about that.
So we'll see. It's small and weak but feeding regularly and being barrelled around a lot by the others and seems to be getting stronger. Fingers crossed.
Saturday 5 June 2010
Beginnings and endings
The week began with news from Portugal that our mare Alfama d'Atela is confirmed pregnant by Assirio, son of Soberano. I can't explain the wealth of emotion that bubbled up and spilled out - largely from my eyes - when we found out. This is the beginning of our long-awaited breeding plans and I am both excited and trepidatious on account of the responsibility and enormity of it all. We now need to get them graded asap and back to the UK, and decide whether to try having Xacra put in foal to a stallion there or get her over here pronto and use one of our boys.
I had to leave work early on Tuesday and on the way home couldn't rid myself of the feeling that I needed to get home. Our old boy Danny was walking along the raised bed back towards the garden so I thought he was clear when I came back from closing the gate. Only he wasn't, he was under the car :( Poor old lad, I didn't see him at all and had no idea he was there until I heard him cry out, but by then it was too late. Rushed him to the vet knowing it was his pelvis and there was not going to be any other outcome than having to help him on his way to his final journey :(( The vet agreed it was the kindest and only thing, and he was put to sleep. He went so quickly and quietly, with a paw wrapped around my arm and my arms wrapped around him. I took him home and buried him on the farm. We'd known for a long time really that he was reaching the end; he was very old, doddery and a bit senile and we had been umming and ahhing about whether it was best to consider having him pts - I never expected it would be like that though. Poor old Danny - he was with us for more than ten years. Never a lap cat, always just "there" in the background wanting nothing but food and the ability to come and go as he pleased, with a penchant for sleeping out in the garden in all weathers; a hobby that certainly contributed to significant arthritis in his later years. Perhaps if I hadn't had that feeling about getting home I wouldn't have been distracted and it wouldn't have happened; I don't know. Everything else was as it should be; maybe it was just his time and the decision was taken away from us. RIP Danny, old boy :(
Rui and Fiona arrived back with us on Wednesday and worked the boys in the afternoon. Q had a session at the long reins; left canter coming well, not so easy right canter so my homework is to concentrate on equalising this. Tigre was ridden and had a good session, and we enjoyed a nice meal afterwards.
The boys have been spending increasing amounts of time in their summer paddocks and enjoying themselves immensely. So much so as far as T is concerned that he refuses to be caught and instead has to be herded back into his usual paddock at night. I want to be sure they are not put at risk of laminitis so am taking it carefully. Vitnery came on Thursday to do Q's booster and we had a good chat about the plans to extend grazing time to overnight and then free access. His advice was to wait until the sun burns off the grass a bit before giving free access, or alternatively strip graze it. Interesting how actually having grass also presents as many problems as not having grass; always a balance to be struck.
And what of the weekend?
Worked the boys Friday evening while Sid was out and up at a reasonable hour (7.30) this morning to open up in time for Mark arriving with the digger to install water in the new paddocks. It's a testament to just how busy and preoccupied with work I've been all week that I completely failed to notice the tiny but not insignificant absence any actual water pipe with which to connect up the troughs. It was only when Mark said "so Rach, where's the water pipe" that I even considered the fact of its absence and the dampener (if you'll excuse the pun) that this might have on the proceedings.
A couple of quick calls to and from Pheeel revealed that Keith was not around to be persuaded to come over and open up our regular supplier and so my only recourse was to toddle off to a local supplier to get the bits and bobs needed - not only did we have no water pipe, we had no joiners or in line taps or any of the handful of other items usually and universally recognised as prerequisites for such a task. I did recall having a protracted conversation with Keith about the diameter of the existing water pipe and that I would go home and measure it, then got distracted and never got back to him, thus explaining the unfortunate turn of events which led to me having a man, a digger, some troughs and a day's labour but no other relevant equipment. Ah well. It's at times like these that blondeness can be used as a cover for more worrying and less explicable levels of fuckwittage.
Rob came round this afternoon and spent the afternoon with Sid clearing all remaining rubble from the fields while I planted 19 leylandiis and a dogwood, poo picked, returned to the builder merchants for more doings and made 50,000 cups of tea with which to sustain Mark in the sweltering heat while he wrestled with 100m of newly purchased water pipe and an assortment of joiners, inserts, PTFE tape and such. I was planning to ride the boys but by now it was getting on for 6pm and (a) I wanted to put them in the summer paddocks, and (b) my legs were about to give way.
Binky has been out all day but bless her as soon as the general noise and disruption died down she was back to take care of her babies - who are now a riot of sweetness and random movements.
Might pop out in a bit and take some sunset photos, once legs have stopped going "ow".
I had to leave work early on Tuesday and on the way home couldn't rid myself of the feeling that I needed to get home. Our old boy Danny was walking along the raised bed back towards the garden so I thought he was clear when I came back from closing the gate. Only he wasn't, he was under the car :( Poor old lad, I didn't see him at all and had no idea he was there until I heard him cry out, but by then it was too late. Rushed him to the vet knowing it was his pelvis and there was not going to be any other outcome than having to help him on his way to his final journey :(( The vet agreed it was the kindest and only thing, and he was put to sleep. He went so quickly and quietly, with a paw wrapped around my arm and my arms wrapped around him. I took him home and buried him on the farm. We'd known for a long time really that he was reaching the end; he was very old, doddery and a bit senile and we had been umming and ahhing about whether it was best to consider having him pts - I never expected it would be like that though. Poor old Danny - he was with us for more than ten years. Never a lap cat, always just "there" in the background wanting nothing but food and the ability to come and go as he pleased, with a penchant for sleeping out in the garden in all weathers; a hobby that certainly contributed to significant arthritis in his later years. Perhaps if I hadn't had that feeling about getting home I wouldn't have been distracted and it wouldn't have happened; I don't know. Everything else was as it should be; maybe it was just his time and the decision was taken away from us. RIP Danny, old boy :(
Rui and Fiona arrived back with us on Wednesday and worked the boys in the afternoon. Q had a session at the long reins; left canter coming well, not so easy right canter so my homework is to concentrate on equalising this. Tigre was ridden and had a good session, and we enjoyed a nice meal afterwards.
The boys have been spending increasing amounts of time in their summer paddocks and enjoying themselves immensely. So much so as far as T is concerned that he refuses to be caught and instead has to be herded back into his usual paddock at night. I want to be sure they are not put at risk of laminitis so am taking it carefully. Vitnery came on Thursday to do Q's booster and we had a good chat about the plans to extend grazing time to overnight and then free access. His advice was to wait until the sun burns off the grass a bit before giving free access, or alternatively strip graze it. Interesting how actually having grass also presents as many problems as not having grass; always a balance to be struck.
And what of the weekend?
Worked the boys Friday evening while Sid was out and up at a reasonable hour (7.30) this morning to open up in time for Mark arriving with the digger to install water in the new paddocks. It's a testament to just how busy and preoccupied with work I've been all week that I completely failed to notice the tiny but not insignificant absence any actual water pipe with which to connect up the troughs. It was only when Mark said "so Rach, where's the water pipe" that I even considered the fact of its absence and the dampener (if you'll excuse the pun) that this might have on the proceedings.
A couple of quick calls to and from Pheeel revealed that Keith was not around to be persuaded to come over and open up our regular supplier and so my only recourse was to toddle off to a local supplier to get the bits and bobs needed - not only did we have no water pipe, we had no joiners or in line taps or any of the handful of other items usually and universally recognised as prerequisites for such a task. I did recall having a protracted conversation with Keith about the diameter of the existing water pipe and that I would go home and measure it, then got distracted and never got back to him, thus explaining the unfortunate turn of events which led to me having a man, a digger, some troughs and a day's labour but no other relevant equipment. Ah well. It's at times like these that blondeness can be used as a cover for more worrying and less explicable levels of fuckwittage.
Rob came round this afternoon and spent the afternoon with Sid clearing all remaining rubble from the fields while I planted 19 leylandiis and a dogwood, poo picked, returned to the builder merchants for more doings and made 50,000 cups of tea with which to sustain Mark in the sweltering heat while he wrestled with 100m of newly purchased water pipe and an assortment of joiners, inserts, PTFE tape and such. I was planning to ride the boys but by now it was getting on for 6pm and (a) I wanted to put them in the summer paddocks, and (b) my legs were about to give way.
Binky has been out all day but bless her as soon as the general noise and disruption died down she was back to take care of her babies - who are now a riot of sweetness and random movements.
Might pop out in a bit and take some sunset photos, once legs have stopped going "ow".
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