Doings

Roundup

2012-01-30T21:58:00.000Z

Clearly, I have been remiss in my blogging activities. This might have something to do with the fact that I have been as busy as buggery at work, staggering home with barely enough energy to collapse by the fire and be fed an assortment of home cooked loveliness by Sid or Noodal - for which, thank dawg.

Perhaps the most surprising development chez Luso Towers is that Sid "I'm French I am and I will eat and drink as much and as often as I like" Johnson has gone on a health kick. Yes folks, it's true. Long walks with the dogs in every wood and forest and beach within a 30 mile radius are no longer enough: indeed, he's had his bike fixed and has been out cycling in those same woods and forests like a man possessed. And now that he's bought me a bike as well, a whole new chapter has begun.

A couple of weekends back we went cycling in Bedgebury Forest. Given that I haven't cycled on an actual bike in more than 20 years and my prep was a rather wobbly sojourn around the yard one night after work to the background accompaniment of one snorting, bug-eyed stallion, it is perhaps unsurprising that I was a bit agog at the idea. This wasn't helped by the fact that the car park at Bedgebury was positively awash with clumps of professional-looking cyclists when we arrived, and Sid repeatedly saying "God, there's some really serious cyclists here", over and over until I barked "ARGH! That's not helping!" before retreating back into my spike-infested, angst-ridden bubble to contemplate the dash I was about cut with my obviously brand new, virgin bike replete with newbie wobble, blood-free knuckles and horse hair-coated fleece and clearly non-cycling attire.

Off we went, Sid like a man born on a bike, and me resolutely not. He roared off with something approaching gay abandon down the hills while I inched along, one hand permanently on the brakes and experiencing some consternation at the idea of riding in a straight line while CHANGING GEARS, let alone freewheeling at 40kph headlong down a muddy, stony track. That being said, it didn't take me long to gain some confidence and I soon caught the bastard on the uphills, repaying the favour by roaring past him going "wheeeee!" and "wow this is ace!". In the end we did about 9k and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Next day we went to Dering Woods, with the dogs this time and a much more technical ride, as I believe they say in the trade. By technical I mean replete with hazards such as mud, roots, fallen branches and wayward Labradors. I'm not sure I'd have been able to do it without the experience of the previous day, but once going we had a fab time. It was Five Go Mad in Dering Woods, only with Sid, Rach, Dora, Willow and Franklin D. Husky instead of Julian, Dick and Anne, George and Timmy the dog.

Since then we've all joined Endomondo and have been enjoying a pleasant competition about who cycled the most. During the week my efforts must be confined to the gym where hitherto I have done 10k max on the bike, but with the goad of Sid pushing 14K upwards I did first 16k and then 18k, on consecutive days. Running has gone out the window for the moment.

However I think we've overdone it a bit as we did bugger all this weekend and everyone was feeling sub-optimal at best, so I missed my planned hack with Liz "balls of steel" Roberts on Saturday and also lesson with Mandy on Sunday. Argh.

Back at the ranch, today is day two of weaning for the Noms. Yesterday was really quite stressful as reported in the stud blog, but today things are more settled, with the Noms doing less fence walking and yelling. I went to see them tonight when I got home from work and they came running over for some reassurance and some hay. Little Nom started belly slapping whilst enjoying a butt rub and Gualter took the opportunity to get down and have a good roll. They were quite anxious first thing this morning but are slowly settling. Meanwhile the mares are doing well and hanging out with Q at the fence. Q finds any change stressful particularly when it involves his mares, so he spent yesterday getting himself in a complete lather, quite literally, running up and down the fence line. We've left T in his all weather area today to avoid excessive blokeishness; he's quite content there enjoying his own special horse TV (Dan's horses on the walker) and with his goatie girlies, especially after a good workout with Dan. I am quite relieved that it's done as I wasn't looking forward to it. So far so good.

Otherwise, we have sent off our application for the AI Technician course, a feat which involved a trip to get the forms countersigned by the vet to enable us to get our DEFRA Accreditation. I did this last week on the way in to work, arranging to collect the forms on the way back home. The surgery closed at 6pm so I left work at 5, on a mission to get to said surgery which, ordinarily, would be quite doable were it not for the array of bottom-feeding fucktards whom I had the misfortune to encounter along the way. Regular or even sometime readers of this blog will know by now that I have an ongoing passion for hitherto undocumented laws of nature, and here is another one which I intend to christen "Rach's First Law of Restricted Motion". In essence, this Law governs the phenomenon which states that the more pressing the need to get from A to B in a fixed period of time, the higher the chances of encountering a mind-boggling collection of sump-dwelling motorised conards whose single purpose in life appears to be to keep you from your goal. Even the expeditory effects of Project FM radio were not sufficient to offset these irritations. However. There is more than one way to skin a cat and, rather than get into a 2 and 8 by ranting impotently as I may well have done in an earlier life, instead I rang the surgery and prevailed upon them to leave the forms outside, thus facilitating a nice relaxing Radio 4-enhanced sojourn at my leisure, contemplating this new Law.

Back to work

2012-01-03T20:22:00.000Z

I'd like to hunt down that fundamental rule of physics which states that one hour of time spent in the office equates roughly to half a day spent at home during the hols. Everyone returns to work bemoaning this fact and therefore there must be a hitherto undiscovered (or at least, unexplained) branch of quantum physics to explain this curious and deeply irritating phenomenon. If any of you Brian Cox-alikes out there want to have a stab at it, please be my guest, and while you are about it you could also check out why it is so damn difficult to get a good night's sleep the night before going back to work. Kthx.

My return to work goes something like this:

Do lates on the yard a little earlier than normal the night before, giving time to (a) prep suit etc, and (b) have an early night in view of lurgy which has kindly surfaced to add that special touch to my last day of liberty :shakes fist at sky:. Feeling if not ahead of the game, at least fairly on track, I then go off to bed early and am making cute snuffly noises by 10pm, snug in the expetacation of a good night's sleep to help overcome said lurgy. Not wanting to give Sid said lurgy, I have repaired to the den on the second floor. Excellent. Only to then be awoken at 2:49am precisely to a wild rattling of what I suspect to be the attic door, located just outside the den, keeping step with the howling gale that is blowing about the homestead. Mentally refusing to contemplate getting up to investigate, I toss and turn, trying to get back to sleep to no avail at all and, eventually, giving in to small cries of distress issuing from the transitional cells that line my unfeasibly small bladder, I get up and make my way to the bathroom whilst the gale howls about the house and the attic door rattles alarmingly.

But wait! Is that the sound of a cat in distress? I loiter on the landing, listening with the straining ear of one who would not see any of her cats in distress under any circumstances but who really, really doesn't want to have to go all the way down the stairs at this ridiculous hour in the morning when there is a gale blowing around the house and I need to get up in two hours. Moments later I realise Sid has fallen asleep with the TV on so, suitably relieved, I crawl back up to the den, taking care not to loiter beneath the attic door (which is partly ajar).

I know, I think, I'll read for a bit, that should do it. But no. I cannot quieten my mind from going over and over all the things we have to do this week, this month, this year. Arses then, I tell myself, I'll try to stay awake for as long as possible. This normally works a treat in all but the most exceptional of circusmtances, so I'm confident that snuffly noises will soon be issuing forth from under the den door any moment now.

But no. By now I am being consumed by that cloak of irritation and increasing desperation of one who knows she must get up very soon, who really needs to sleep and yet cannot. Bollocks then, the only thing for it is to read some more. Finally fall asleep somewhere in the region of 4:45am, just in time for the alarm to go off at 5. Marvellous.

Nothing for it then but to haul my outraged frame out of its treacherous pit and begin morning doings, for tis Noodle's day off and am on morning duty. Downstairs, greet the smalls, let the dogs out and make myself a coffee. Tea just won't do it after a night like that. Don woolly hat and coatage sufficient to combat the howling gale and step out into the breach, noting as I go how rain is blowing horizontally across the yard and the wind is practically strong enough to whip my feet from under me. Thank dawg for the extra ballast I've accrued from lapsing my gym doings over the hols, or I might have been somewhere over Northern France before I knew what was occurring.

Pausing only to remark to myself how the yard is strewn about with brooms, skipping out buckets, haynets and other equipment which normally has the grace to sit quietly at its appropriate station, I feed the boys, top up haynets and stagger across the yard with a wheelbarrow full of haynets and breakfast for the mums and babies, fully expecting them to all be huddled in the shelter, as they usually are in the event of any inclemence, and indeed how they remained even during the last howling gale which tore sheets of onduline up from their pile and scattered them liberally about the place, including up against the fence next to the shelter.

Mommy Johnson mode swings into action and there's nothing for it but to venture out across the field, thinking about how there's nothing on earth I'd rather be doing at 5:15am on a disgusting Tuesday morning than tramping across a sodding field, practically being torn limb from limb by a capricious wind, looking anxiously for my herd. And there they were, huddled in the corner next to Q, as they always do in the event of anything untoward, the very picture of equine misery picked out in the glow of torchlight. With a bracing cry of "come on you buggers", I turned back for the shelter and they all trooped in after me.This was not a morning to divvy them up into mums and toddlers to make sure everyone got only their apportioned ration of grub; no. Just get on with it so we can all go about our business and you can get into the shelter and dry off. I pile in with the haynets, skip out, check them over by torchlight and repair back indoors having closed them in to their all weather area, only to find that one of the dogs had done a protest poo right in the middle of the kitchen. "You bastards!" I yell, by now near breaking point, and schlep off to take a very hot shower, but not before shaking said wadded poo in Franklin's face, knowing full well it was him wot done it.

Having congratulated myself on making it through the garden in my suit without getting too muddy, I drive out past the shelter, noting as I go how everyone is charging about after the fashion of very agitated horses in a high wind. Argh. What if they injure themselves charging about? Nobody will be up for hours. Argh! But I don't want to leave them outside in that if they're not going to use the shelter. And Argh! I'm now suited and booted and as such ill-equipped for an equine rescue mission after a night of heavy rain. Park the car outside the gates, switch it off and go and stand there for a few minutes to watch, in the howling gale with rain still blowing horizontally across the yard. Fortunately they settle almost immediately, and I am able to leave the homestead unmolested by further indecision.

Arrive at work at 7:30am, and go to a day's work, consoling myself with the fond notion that I could maybe leave at 3:30, what with only having had a half ration of sleep and being still lurgified. Ops meeting at 2: well that needn't be a biggie, it's bound to run on a bit but I'll schlep off after that. Except that just before the meeting, a call in from the Help Desk issuing further mewlings of distress based on the fact that they were being beseigned by students unable to login, further to a pre-Christmas AD rollout in our computer labs. Argh! Argh! So we formulate a plan to combat this and we all go into crisis mode, dealing with our allotted tasks according to our roles and skillsets. Finally managed to get off about 4:15, having checked that I could be of no furtther use to anyone, with one last hurrah in the form of a story of cheese making from the boss to finish me off.

Get home to find that Sid has my lurgy after all and the dogs haven't been out as a result. Rather than risk a further protest poo, I decide to throw caution and most of my good sense to the wind, and take the bastards for a walk.

Sitting quietly on the sofa now trying to calibrate by how many extra degrees my throat is now throbbing, and marvelling that it could and probably should be a lot worse after all that. What ever else it may be, it is certainly never boring.

Catchup

2011-12-22T20:54:00.001Z

I blame the lack of activity in this blog on a number of factors, mostly involving being busy at work and unparalleled levels of crapness. Also, we've had some ups and downs which hopefully are now put to bed at least for a while.

Tigre wasn't quite right for a couple of weeks in his right hind stifle, just as we were rocking along very nicely. He's back on form now and back in work; we've got some catching up to do but it's so nice to be riding him again.

Also, Gualter came in with a fat fetlock last Sunday evening, absolutely hopping lame. Quick call to the vet and we established with some flexions that it was not a fracture (argh the very thought) and could wait for Monday morning for callout. It's one of those fundamental rules of horse keeping that these things always happen at the weekend. Come Monday there was too much swelling for the vet to see what was what so she left us with a course of bute and vowed to return on Thursday. I'm so glad we put in that all weather rubber area because the stables are really too small for him and mum and he needed to be on restricted turnout, so it was ideal for that.

On Thursdsy the swelling was down but not as much as hoped, so he was given further course of bute and another week on restricted turnout, which meant everyone coming in and a really messy shelter to deal with every morning. However, the swelling was going down steadily and today he got the all clear to go out again, so the vet and I stood and watched as the four of them tore it up around the field to the theme tune of James Brown "I feel good". Hoping there will be no further problems from it - fingers crossed.

We're all set for winter now, with deliveries of haylage, bedding and feed over the last few days, and the corresponding drainage of the bank account. Still, record cheap vet fallout today - £36!

More on the lower field

2011-11-04T20:27:00.000Z

So the updated to do list:

* installing a gate - DONE
* fencing the eastern boundary to get the neighbour's horses off it - DONE
* installing water to the two new paddocks DONE
* sorting out the drainage in the lower field :) DONE
* digging out the pond DONE
* removing all the dead wood from the pond - DONE
* harrowing (and harrowing and harrowing) - DONE
* clearing out the bottom ditch DONE
* fencing the remaining boundary, the pond and across the middle DONE
* digging out the field shelter DONE
* laying ~~stone and~~ rubber matting in said field shelter TO DO

All of this is good, except that the field now looks like an absolute bomb site.

Mostly concerning the lower field

2011-10-15T17:11:00.000+01:00

It's been a while - am considering giving up blinking because three months seem to go by every time I do so.

Lots has been going on and I haven't wanted to blog about it until all the dotted lines were duly signed upon lest anything go wrong, but now that is done I can reveal the big news which is that we have after protracted machinations procured an additional five acres - hurrah! Really thrilled, as it takes the pressure off somewhat but also means that there is another whole raft of things to do:

* installing a gate - DONE
* fencing the eastern boundary to get the neighbour's horses off it - DONE
* installing water to the two new paddocks
* sorting out the drainage in the lower field :)
* digging out the pond
* removing all the dead wood from the pond - DONE
* harrowing (and harrowing and harrowing) - DONE
* clearing out the bottom ditch
* fencing the remaining boundary, the pond and across the middle
* digging out the field shelter
* laying stone and rubber matting in said field shelter

So as can be seen there's a lot to be done as the land has been overgrazed and neglected, so there's weeding to do as well as discing and re-seeding in the spring. We've been out there all day today (and what a beautiful day for it) armed with chain harrow, axe and chainsaw, and it already looks a lot better. We've taken out the old boundary fence, redone the electric fencing across the access gate, chopped down the old dead wood, piled up all the old shit that was left lying around (including numerous pallets and tractor tyres), harrowed (and harrowed), and planned the next stages of work with young Pheel and his Pitt-alike colleague Richard who I've mentioned before and who'll be here on the 24th to start all the digger work, of which there will be about a week's worth. Noodle will be thrilled :)

Meanwhile the horses are all well, getting their winter woollies and enjoying lolling about in the sun while we all toil away on their behalf.

Since my last update..

2011-10-01T20:24:00.000+01:00

.. I have been mainly very busy, and lots of things have happened.

The Good
All the horses now have a secure area of rubber-covered all-weather turnout outside their stables/shelter. Whatever the weather, they'll be able to get outside and stretch their legs without being confined to barracks. There'll be no more hacking out a safe path along the driveway from the stables to the picadeiro to get the boys out for an hour in times of deepest snow and ice, no need to confine mares and babies to stables or worry about paddocks getting trashed when they get waterlogged. Better for them by far and also better for us in terms of husbandry during those rancid winter months when everything is such bloody hard work and even the most steadfast and dedicated of owners start to wonder WHY they put themselves through it.

All the stables and the shelter have been rubber matted so we can cut down a bit on bedding and mucking out will be easier.

The younglings are doing extremely well and are a delight to behold.

The mares have had their first appointment with the dentist and were extremely good. I always wonder what they must think when they have the gag fitted and someone grubbing around in their mouths with a giant rasp which, let's face it, must set up some impressive reverberations inside their heads, but they were model patients and we were delighted. Needless to say, some very sharp teeth were in evidence and now they are no more. Which is nice.

Little Nom has had his first farrier appointment and other than the bit where he opted to keep flinging himself on the floor rather than submit to standing for said farrier (during which I gave thanks for the freshly laid rubber floor), it went really well. He is a precocious little swine wrapped up in the world's cutest foal body and although unsettling for all concerned at the time I think he learned a powerful lesson that flinging oneself around in a pre-teen strop does no real good. Gualter stood like a pro for his second every trim, bless him.

Q continues to do well on his regime, which now involves having his muzzle on during the day and free access to his paddocks overnight. Unfortunately lessons with Mandy have been thin on the ground lately due to conflicting schedules but we did come 4th in the dressage at home series she did (E44) without the benefit of the third and final effort during which we were primed to correct all the things we learned during the process.

T is doing really well in his ridden work even if there isn't enough of it and we had our first canter under saddle last week, very lovely and soft.

We had another Bento clinic, where Q was much calmer second time out.

Knickers is doing well in her weekly work with the boys and it's a huge help to know that they have good sessions three times a week. This is a godsend generally and will be particularly so when it's no longer light by the time I get home.

The Bad
About three weeks ago the boys were both extremely unsettled on the Saturday afternoon, especially Q, who was pacing and completely sweated up in the evening. I brought him in at dusk as usual to his winter paddock and closed the gate, just as I had for the previous couple of weeks. Only this time he either didn't register or didn't care that the gate was in the way and tried to gallop through it. Result: one stallion-shaped dent in the 12' metal gate :O and a very bad nose bleed. I've never dealt with an equine nosebleed before and it was quite horrifying - blood was literally pissing out of his nose and within moments of bringing him in, the yard looked like a scene from a gorn movie. Arggh.
No sooner had we reassured ourselves that we had stemmed the flow than a giant ripping noise emanated from T's field and we found that he was charging around with his shredded rain sheet flapping around his legs. Took a while to get near him to get it off, by which time we were wondering what the bloody hell was going on and what in dawg's name might happen next. We took a walk down the neighbouring fields to check on their horses and see if we could see anything that might be causing the disturbance, tooled up with our pack of dogs and a number of implements for self-protection just in case, but there was nothing obvious other than what looked in the pitch black like a foal that was yelling its head off, in the nearby camp of our travelling friends across the way.
I discovered the following weekend that the "foal" was in fact a shetland pony stallion who'd been liberated by persons unknown from a field a few miles away and mysteriously ended up at said camp. Turns out he was such a handful that they ended up calling the owner to come and fetch him the next day. So the general conclusion is that it was the presence of a small but forceful new stallion presence in the environment that set our boys off and caused the ruckus. Luckily no major harm done and I was both shcoked and extremely relieved that Q suffered nothing worse than the nosebleed and a couple of scrapes on his legs.

Good news and bad

2011-09-01T19:34:00.000+01:00

Two vet visits over the last 24 hours have given us both good and bad news.

THE BAD NEWS
neither of the girls are pregnant :(
After all the effort (not to mention expense) this is extremely frustrating and disappointing. We're now at the end of the season so there's little we can do and the vets can offer little in terms of why we didn't have more success. We've used the best stud in the area for the boys and the most recommended amongst Luso breeding friends for the AI work but alas it was not to be. There are a few possibilities that I can think of, having discussed it with a number of vets and colleagues:

1) There was possibly some low level uterine infection present which would have made conception difficult. Our vets do not routinely do endometrial swabs (they will certainly be instructed to do so next year) and the absence of fluid is no indicator of itself as to the presence or absence of infection. However, Newmarket vets swab every cycle - ok this is related to live cover considerations but interesting nevertheless.

2) There was some problem with the AI process. The practice in question has a 60% success rate over the season.

3) There are some mares who typically only conceive every other year, and these are likely to be the very maternal ones. As it happens both girls are extremely maternal

4) They weren't good candidates for frozen semen. They were AI'd last year but fresh semen was used.

For next year we are going to install a dummy at home, do an AI technician course and collect the semen ourselves. The only good thing we have got out of it all is that the boys have been trained to the dummy. It will also mean that we can offer chilled as well as frozen.

Interestingly with the girls, the first vet who did their scans had to sedate Xacra, but the second vet didn't find it necessary. It was the first time I've been able to be at home for the scans but Noodle said the first one was quite impatient, which might explain Xacra's reticence. The second vet however was excellent. He also said often he finds horses are less well behaved when the owners are present, which I have heard before from the stud vet. As an owner I'd be mortified if that were the case. Both girls were excellent throughout.

THE GOOD NEWS
Q is back to normal :)
The vet who saw him last week was back today and the difference was immediate when he was turned out in the arena - trotted over to the mares straight away and with a quick free school was markedly better and back to normal in his paces . He also had no reaction to the hoof testers.

He's also lost some weight as a result of the following regime: out with the muzzle during the day, allowed to graze for an hour without in the afternoon and in restricted paddock with the least grass overnight, with a week's course of bute. We'll continue this for another couple of weeks (sans bute) and blood test again after a month to see what the inflammation markers are like. He can be back in work now too.

The farrier is coming tomorrow and the chiro next week.

So, disappointing re the mares but extreme relief that Q is back on track. The vet was very complimentary about him in terms of stallion behaviour, which was lovely.

And Sod's Law being what it is, both boys are now back in work and I have a lurgy. Splendid.

Autumnal doings

2011-08-26T13:13:00.000+01:00

I may have mentioned that Q was a bit of a slug when I rode on Sunday, but that's not unusual. On Monday we free schooled him and he looked a bit choppy in front. It does happen occasionally, usually when he's been doing star jumps in the field. We were due to box out for a lesson at a nearby yard on Tuesday but he still wasn't right so I cancelled and gave the vet a call, who came out on Wednesday. She found a slight reaction with the hoof testers so it's possible he's had a mild attack of laminitis :(

The problem is that we can't keep him in without him weaving incessantly so agreed to put him on restricted grazing and a course of bute. This was ok at first but this morning I found he had worn a path along the fence line :sigh: so in an effort to keep movement to a minimum I've got two options: 1) try Zylkene, a natural calmer and/or 2) put a grazing muzzle on him and let him wander at will. On balance I think he will be less stressed if he can move about to keep an eye on the mares as normal but not stuff himself with grass, so we'll try that.

We had a blood test done which showed a slight elevation in the markers which indicate some inflammation, so he's got a week's course of bute and we'll reassess with the vet next week. Argh - I hate it when there's something wrong with any of the creatures.

Meanwhile, I rode T this morning who was clearly full of vim and vigour. Not one iota of relaxation was to be had in the in hand warmup but I decided to ride him anyway since if we are going to move forward I can't just rely on only riding him when the planets are aligned. Besides which if I have faith in the new-found levels of trust building between us then it's as good a test as any. So he started piaffing as soon as I got on but settled (ish) to a rather animated walk and we put hoof prints all over the school with circles, serpentines etc followed with some lateral work. Up to trot and he was full of beans but listening, though I can't say he ever really relaxed through his back or stretched out to the contact as with previous rides; instead he was a bit sucked up throughout but the tempo was easily managed and he was good. It's quite a thing having all that energy to play with (!), strapped to half a ton of very animated stallion.

Knickers then appeared with the wheelbarrow and he decided it would be a good thing to show off to her (?) and immediately launched into a passage which we might still be doing even now if it were up to him, and I must confess I did enjoy it. Even a slight firming of the lower back gave a transition to piaffe - man he's sensitive! - but I couldn't let it go on even if I was rather enjoying it as he's not really that fit, so pushed him forward into trot. We had a couple of canters on the spot followed by the nearest approximation to a stretchy trot that we were going to get, and I left it there, pleased to have ridden the Rocket Man through it but not wishing to push it too much.

Otherwise, it's raining, and raining and raining. I brought the girls into their shelter so that the younglings could lie down in the dry, which of course has set Q off wanting to know where they are. It's a juggling act and sometimes you just can't win.

Meanwhile Xacra, who has been making good progress in the hind feet picking out stakes, nearly kicked my head off the other night. It's always that right hind and always when she fears losing her balance, so I am going to ask Tessa to look at her and see if there is any adjustment to do. I think a course of Zylkene will benefit her for this and the forthcoming farrier visit next week, as he couldn't get ner her hind feet last time and they really need a trim. I just need to determine that it's safe for nursing mares.

Final meanwhile: after a Super Noodle effort, all bar two stables are now rubber matted and the dog pen is finished. Once Pheel comes to do the work on the remaining two stables we can finish them off and get the shelter done. Then all that remains is to get two more loads of hardcore in (9am tomorrow) so that the boys can come and finish off everyone's all weather turnout areas.

Never boring is it.

Lifestyle stuff

2011-08-21T23:41:00.000+01:00

This probably deserves its own entry as it's been a bit of a revelation, as well as completely unexpected.

It all started at the Bento clinic I attended back at the end of July, where there were many exhortations from the great man to develop my ridden position, as well as opportunities to discuss with mates the perils of hitting that particular time of life where you can no longer eat as much cake as you want without developing your own muffin-esque waistline accoutrements. I've no real idea what it was specifically that has galvanised me into action but the effect of it has been quite noticeable and I've ended up doing things that I never really considered as applying to me. I'm wondering if it is the onset of some sort of midlfe crisis and worry that if I'm not careful I may soon be driving a Porsche.

First I decided (after some years of cogitation along the lines of "ah yes, I really should get my beans in a row to do this..", it must be noted) to join a Pilates class for general posture and flexibility. So I looked into the available options and decided that the only feasible way I could cram it in would be to attend a class at the gym at work. It didn't really occur to me that actually joining the gym would be a realistic course of action until I weighed up the financial options, which it turned out were stacked against me:

1) Operate on a pay as you go basis, paying £5.50 per class plus a £25 "admin fee", or
2) Join said gym at a cost of £26 per month

As the people who run things at the gym know very well, two classes per week @ £5.50 a pop make little economic sense, so I was forced to conclude that joining would be the way forward. I tried to persuade a number of friends and colleagues to come along with me but in the end was forced to conclude that I was on my own and must therefore grow a pair and go on my own - feeling, it must be said, like a mildly wobbly fraud at the very idea. So off I toddled, completed the relevant paperwork, handed over my fee and booked my induction.

Meanwhile, back at the clinic my friend Susan was telling me all about how her own Pilates adventures had transformed her riding and how she had consulted a nutritionist to discuss dietary changes to help both lose a bit of weight and gain some much needed energy levels. She's in the same position as me in that she works in London, commutes a long way by train in order to fund the lifestyle, only to find she has very little energy to devote to her homestead and horses by the time she gets home. Hmm. All sounds very familiar, Rachibum, does it not.

Anyway, according to said nutritionist, the mistake that many people make is not having protein for breakfast. Aha! Although I was feeling pretty pleased with my exisitng quite healthy granola, fruit and natural yogurt breakfasts, neither those nor my propensity to opt for a plate full of carbs at lunch were doing me any favours in the energy stakes, so an overhaul was called for. What the nutritionist recommended was this:

http://www.hollandandbarrett.com/pages/product_detail.asp?pid=2521&prodid=2786&cid=141&sid=0

First impressions on trying it were along the lines of "Christ, that's really rancid" but in fact it grows on you, and particularly once you realise just how good it is at delivering both energy and satiety for a good few hours. Result!

Next step was to ditch the lunch time carbs in favour of a salad and some protein, which also helps. As a result I have found that my appetite has been steadily shrinking to more manageable levels so I'm eating a lot less at night, too, and what's more I find I am tending towards more healthy suppers, give or take the odd pizza or kebab. I never thought I'd see the day and it reminded me of a "health and wellbeing" course that I attended at work last year which cited all these things - healthy diet, exercise, not so much cake, yadda yadda yadda.

What's more, I've been going to the gym three times a week and really rather enjoying it. Of all the things I might reasonably be expected to blog about, this wasn't one of them. And it's spreading! Sid is becoming a firm fan of shakes, having discovered that if you whisk them well they are much more palatable, and as a family unit we are starting to favour them even as weekend breakfasts for the energy and general good feelings that they engender. Who knew it would come to this? It's very obvious if you then have something like a bacon butty instead just how much of a sap in energy levels that gives by comparison.

So if I sound like a religious zealot expounded the virtues of my new found godhead then so be it, I don't care. It's helped me no end through the weekend's rubber humping endeavours, I can tell you. And I'm writing this not only as an aide memoire should I slip from the path of virtue, but also to spread the good tidings to anyone who, like me, suffers from a lack of energy and really wants to do something lest they bury themselves under a compensatory mountain of cake and coffee.

Catch up

2011-08-21T22:34:00.000+01:00

You'll be unsurprised to learn that things at Luso Towers have been very busy. In the last entry I mentioned that we had collected two trailer loads of rubber matting a couple of weeks back, which was followed the next morning by another trailer load delivered courtesy of Pheel's boys. So that's three loads of matting, and in case you wondered how much rubber matting it is possible to fit in to one 12 x 12 stable, the answer is three trailer loads - so long as you don't plan to close the stable door afterwards. That's a lot of rubber.

Over the last couple of days we have hauled, humped and dragged what must be several hundredweight of the stuff into stables and spent equivalent amounts of time power hosing it down, with the result that six of the nine stables are now fitted out. Which is nice. Plus we all now look like Geoff Capes. We can't do the others until the mods are finished, but it looks as though there will be enough left over to do the shelters and the dog run (!).

Our little herd is all back together after their sojourn at the vet clinic and I am trying not to think about whether, after the injection of (a) a bucket load of cash and (b) several doses of frozen semen, the girls are indeed pregnant. Argh. Plenty of distractions, not the least of which was the final push to get all the forms signed off and completed to send off for the younglings' passports. Only time will tell whether Gualter's passport will arrive in time to take him and Alfama to the breed show.

Meanwhile preps are under way to bring T up to fitness for the proposed classes, and he has been going very well indeed. Each ride finds him more relaxed and with progress to report - less tension on the left rein and trot work really going very well. Hitherto I've been pleased to get some softness during the course of the trot but today for the first time we kept it through transitions and changes of rein on both reins, and I really feel we are starting to gel. He is an extraordinary horse to ride and I can't express what joy it is to finally feel I am getting somewhere and that he is really enjoying his work. Knickers is working both boys three times per week, which is a huge help, and she is really enjoying it. Good lads they are.

We're trying to get a rider over from Portugal to present him at the breed show but logistics all need to be worked out, so I've been busy trying to work out what is possible too. And best of all, I now have a week off work to immerse myself in horsey doings, and hopefully get Pheel to start on the outstanding work to finish off the all weather turnout areas, convert one of the stables into a cross tie bay and the other into a larger stable for possible weaning or foaling. Not to mention ideas to try to convert an area into a covering room for a dummy.

In other news Franklin D. Husky has had his plums whipped off and was feeling very sorry for himself, but is bouncing back with the amazing powers of recovery possessed only by the young and vital. He's confined to walks on the lead for a few days but coping pretty well.

Long weekend, ups and downs

2011-08-07T21:31:00.001+01:00

The vet came on Wednesday to scan the girls, only to find that Alfama had a particularly ripe follicle necessitating that we got her in for AI at our earliest convenience. As a result I took a couple of days off and arranged to take her and Gualter in on Thursday. It took a bit of convincing to get Gualter on the trailer and judging by the way he leapt up into it I believe his issue to be that he doesn't want to step on the ramp. It was quite a sight seeing a gazelle-like leaping colt heading straight for me, but he managed to miss both me and the ramp, at which feat I was personally very impressed.

On arrival at the vets we took them straight into the barn for Alfama to be scanned again. This was particularly intersting to me because although the girls have been scanned many times this season, it was the first time that I've been on hand to see what a ripe-ish follicle looks like. We turned them out in what might now be considered their usual paddock, and drove back home. Most of the rest of the afternoon was taken up transferring wood to the new wood pile and taking the dogs for a long walk. By the time I'd finished I was too battered to ride - I really should learn to ride first then do other jobs afterwards, because thinking "oh I'll just..." really Does Not Work. In the evening we had a chap round to discuss some land matters, at which point T decided to put on a show for him involving flat gallops, caprioles, pings, star jumps and flirting displays to the mares, and I'm really not sure whether it was T or I who were the most surprised that the chap took No Notice Whatosver. Funny.

We had a very busy day on Friday, cleaning up the garden, putting the roof on the wood pile (involving standing on tip toe on top of a ladder, banging nails into onduline sheets at precarious angles) etc etc. Knickers went off to do some stuff with a friend at 2ish so all that remained for me was to work both boys, hump more wood and walk the dogs, what with Sid pulling 16+ hour days and being effectively welded to his laptop. It was the first time the dogs had been out with only one of us and, aside from the incident with the rotten rabbit's head that Frankie was particularly wanting to protect at all costs, it went really well and they were very manageable on the lead. Interesting that they stayed closer and were more attentive than when there are two of us out walking them.

Saturday was also extremely busy. Pheel had called a couple of days before to see if we wanted enough rubber matting to fit out all the stables at a very good price (yes please), which necessitated being round to his with the trailer for 8am to follow him to the place where we were to get the rubber, waiting while his boys loaded the trailer then driving back and unloading it into one of the stables. For anyone out there that has never unloaded a trailer full of heavy duty rubber matting, I can tell you that it is bloody heavy, and hard work. One trailer load done, I went back to collect the second load, return and repeat in between a visit from Tessa; chiropractor, adviser on all things vegetable garden, dogs and all round good egg. I can advise that unloading two trailer loads of heavy duty rubber matting is even harder work than doing one. And it had to be done, because I gave Xacra her prostaglandin injection on Wednesday evening and we had to take her to the vets that afternoon, so we needed the trailer.

So with no pause for anything so civilsed as a break, we loaded up Xacra and Golfinho and undertook the hour's drive to the vets to drop her off. Again we took her straight to the stocks to be scanned (follicle not developed enough) while Golfinho took the opportunity to investigate everything, knock things over and generally cause a ruckus. Our little herd were reunited with much nickering in the paddock while we did the necessary paperwork, then loaded up Alfama and Gualter for the journey home. Very pleased that Gualter loaded much better this time, and even deigned to put foot to ramp, if only for milliseconds before clattering into the trailer at speed. Another hour back home, by which point it was about 4:30. Ordinarily we'd have had a lighter evening of it but had invited our excellent neighbours round for a barbie and had all the preps to do, so there followed a period frenetic activity to get it all done, and we were just back on top of things as they arrived (phew). Had a really lovely evening which was much more civilised than our last get together, when we all got completely battered on the last of our sloe gin and spent the evening dancing wildly on their lawn.

All of that was the good stuff, but the bad news is that we lost one of the goats, Gerry, on Saturday night :(
Not sure what it was but the goat sanctuary have also been losing quite a number of their MoD goats of late - she was always the least vigorous of the three, as well as the oldest. Poor old girl :(

Needless to say, losing an animal that is classed as livestock requires different handling than losing a pet, so we had to call round to find a licensed carrier to dispose of her body because it's against the law to bury it. We had to wrap her in a tarp and drag the body to a collection point for the lorry, which is coming tomorrow. Very sad business, but at least she had a nice life with us for a few months as part of T's posse of goatie girlies. RIP Gerry :(

Registration

2011-07-28T22:04:00.000+01:00

So today the boys had their papers done for passport registration and to become fully paid up members of Club Lusitano. Well most of them anyway - reading through the breed society paperwork last night I realised that we hadn't received a covering certificate from the breeder which includes the third (!) outline diagram to be completed by vitnery. Why there always has to be something noticed only at the last gasp defeats me, but there it is. Certificates en route from stud sec and we'll get those done asap.

We decided to put Golfinho's headcollar on this morning before I left for work, so he wouldn't associate it with being jabbed with a large and scary needle (microchip) and a smaller one (tetanus). And just as well. Gualter of course was the uber colt, standing for his doings like the fabulous little big man that he is, while little Nom was having none of it! Knickers had to call in reinforcements (Sid) and the two of them kept him still long enough for the jabs to be done and his whorls and markings appropriately inspected. Vitnery reckons he will stay that colour, which I am delighted about. He is such a little swine :)

Meanwhile the girls have been scanned, and we've just missed Xacra's season. Even surrounded by stallions, she shows no signs of heat whatsoever *sigh* so we are faced with the choicce of a PG injection to bring her forward again, with the increased risk of a haemorrhagic follicle, or wait and be really quite late in the season. Argh. Alfama is due in about 10 days, and we have two doses of frozen semen from each of the boys on standby at the vet clinic.

Yesterday Sid had occasion to call in the AA to take his poorly car to a specialist garage, and it turned out that said AA man was a keen breeder himself and dedicated stallion owner, so rather randomly the two of them spent the best part of an hour exchanging notes and ideas about stallion handling, breeding and general horse management. Who'd have thought?

Also yesterday we took delivery of some 15 tonnes of rubber, which will be used in the all weather turnout areas for everyone. The next step is for young Pheel to come round with his giant tool and spread it all over the hardcore.

In other news, Frankie is settling in very well; we took them out for an hour tonight and played hide & seek in the long grass. I thoroughly recommend this as a de-stressing exercise after a busy day, but caution fellow hay fever sufferers that it's probably better to take your antihistamines beforehand than afterwards, when your eyes have puffed up and and you nose is simultaneously blocked and running.

Looking forward to the weekend and the Bento clinic - report to follow. I stopped in at Frogpool on the way home tonight and availed myself of a new black saddle cloth with gold piping - s'nice.

Back in the saddle, and other matters

2011-07-26T21:17:00.001+01:00

On Saturday I decided that it was time to ride T for the first time since his injury, which has kept him out of action for almost six months now. The trot work in hand is building up nicely and there's less evidence of the very slight unlevelness we saw after he came back from stud, so I'm feeling confident that we can continue building him up slowly. Besides, if he keeps himself sound out in the field 24/7 throwing shapes for the mares the I'm pretty sure he is doing ok. Spent about 10-15 minutes riding, looking for stretching and relaxing over the back and a few steps of SI. Well, I’m not sure there was much in the way of relaxation; plenty of energy bubbling up though contained, he did feel like an unexploded bomb with a tendency to curl up in front, but then it was his first ride in ages. Amazing to be back in the saddle again and I am looking forward to developing the relaxation levels with him as the work progresses. We've also recommenced the Rachen-Schoenich (or however you spell it) straightening work which is helping him hugely, as I found during my second ride tonight which found him much more relaxed and apt to stretch to the contact. He's enjoying being back in work and is back to his calm and mannered self with a liitle routine to intersperse the Wild Man of Kent lifestyle he's been living.

I might add at this juncture that updating one's blog with laptop held in crook of an arm while typing one-handed on account of the presence of a cat on one's lap can best be described as "sub-optimal". Isn't it Slim.

In other news, the farrier came on Friday and the girls were done in the field. Gualter stood for his second ever trim completely at liberty - at the tender age of 3.5 months old. How cool is that? Golfinho had his first look over from Robin and lifted his legs very politely (again at liberty) but hasn't had a trim yet. The next thing for them will be the vet visit to do the forms, take the DNA sample and microchip them so that they can get their passports. As for the girls, Alfama was an old hand but Xacra had the wind up her tail and was very antsy about her back feet – I suspected this might happen as she relies on me very heavily mentally and I kind of knew she doesn’t yet have that relationship with Knickers that allows her to lean on her quite so much in times of need. She oscillates a bit with her back feet and recently we had a couple of moments of concern as little Nom would come and nibble my head while I was doing a hind foot so I ended up fending him off while doing her feet and it got a bit much for her, shaking her fragile confidence and meaning that we've had to regroup a bit. We’ve taken to leaving the three of them in the corral while we do her feet in the field, which is fine until little Nom starts throwing shapes along the fence and winding everyone up :) How he fits all that personality in such a little body defeats me.

On Friday evening I had a lesson with Mandy, first time since being back from Portugal. We did a fair bit of lateral work based around the milling exercise, moving into shoulder in while keeping the collect afforded by the milling, and working that into a stretch, looking for mouthing of the bit, which we got on the left rein but not the right. We then worked on transitions within the trot, using school shapes to assist but always looking to keep the throughness. We finished off with some canter work to maintain straightness and impulsion.

On Saturday it was Noodle's turn to have a lesson on Q, so I rode him first to make sure he was settled and ready. He was a bit skittish and spooky, deciding that the floating heads of Mandy and Knickers outside the school were quite scary so we had a good canter to settle him and from then on he was fine. Noodle spent the first ten minutes off the lunge doing some basic turning work, with Q very politely ignoring little Nom who was taking an interest along the fence. What a good lad. Noodle has a lot of trust in Q as well which helps her confidence hugely and she knows she doesn’t have to worry about him. I think this is really remarkable in all sorts of ways and is a testament both to that marvellous Luso temperament and Noodle's level of comfort in working with him. Afterwards back on the lunge to work on her rising trot and I must say she has come on in leaps and bounds, so very pleased with how she did.

On Sunday we found ourselves going to look at a dog that needed a new home, against my better judgement. I know I know, but I blame Sid and Noodle. I’ve decided not to let the two of them out on their own again as this is the second time this has happened. The story was that a couple were looking for a home for their Husky x Collie (!) 5 month old puppy as their young son is highly allergic to him. Of course, I knew that if we went we’d end up coming back with him, but I made sure I agreed with the owners that we would take him on a trial basis to make sure he was ok with the cats. Anyway we brought him home and he (Frankie) was an instant hit with Dora and Willow particularly, and they have formed a happy trio in no time flat. His first introduction to cats was a pasting from Binky and Poppy, neither of whom take any prisoners, so he has been very polite – even lying on the kitchen floor while Slim and Binky took up residence in his bed :) Since then he has settled in very well and the signs appear to be promising. So now we have:

6 horses

3 dogs

5 cats

3 goats

10 chickens

That's 27 creatures.

Go Noodle

2011-07-15T22:45:00.000+01:00

We had a really nice session with the boys this evening: Q first, who is a little plump sausage of Luso loveliness from enjoying the grazing far too much whilst Noodle and I were away. We both need to embark upon a fittening programme in time for our forthcoming Bento clinic, where I fully expect us both to boil our bananas off if we do not sharpen ourselves up a bit.

In any event we had a very good session and it is always the greatest of pleasures to sit on him again after riding other horses, however splendid or well trained they happen to be. Afterwards I gave Noodle a lunge lesson and she has made excellent progress over the last couple of weeks - rising trot is unrecognisable for one thing but more than that she had her first canters on Q! Really pleased with how it went for her, nice and balanced back to the trot again too, and of course Q was the consummate schoolmaster, expecting only adoration and kisses for his forbearance :)

Worked T again, who is looking much better and in very good shape - well covered and happy to be doing something. Well - I say that but when I went to fetch him he was in his stable and wandered off up the field when he saw the headcollar. I wandered off after him, he stopped and looked around, then trotted off into the next field before stopping to look again. Seeing me still in pursuit, he cantered off to the furthese point in his summer paddock to exchange pleasantries with Q, and waited for me to approach before cantering off again back to his winter paddock. Seeing me still in dogged pursuit, he clearly thought "oh alright then" and walked up to me to put his nose in the headcollar. It's the Vicar of Dibley "no, no, no, oh alright then".

Meanwhile the girls have been scanned and Alfama is not pregnant, so we are considering whether live cover mightn't be such a bad thing after all. We can fashion a teasing wall easily enough and use the picadeiro for covering, so we are currently considering our options.

Portugal visit

2011-07-15T00:04:00.000+01:00

We arrived on Wednesday eve to balmy weather: how wonderful to be back in the hallowed land after a three year hiatus. Drove to Sobral in our ridiculous little rental car, which required us to take a run up to each of the numerous hills & hope for the best, but even then still having to chuck ballast out of the windows in order to make it to the top. Had a great evening catching up with our dear friend Antonio.

Day 1
On Thursday we went to a tack shop in Porto Alto where I acquired a presentation bridle and whip, some spurs and a hat for Noodle. Quite restrained I thought. Had a late lunch at a little place which used produce from its own farm; dropped Antonio off and prepared for outing no. 2.

Next was a trip to Quinta da Ferraria, the other side of Santarem. We met up with Teresa, one of my Facebook buds and all round fabulous person, to go and look at a mare I'd had half an eye on for some time.
The quinta was awesome! Huge, very well presented, lovely place. The mare herself was extremely sweet and latched on to us straight away - arg. She is very well put together, good lines and moves really well, graded at 72 points though she has not had any babies yet. She is small at 14.3h but is ridden by children so very calm and giving temperament. If we bought her we'd have to have more land first. Anyway here she is:

The breeder has offered to put her in foal to a stallion called Zico, so we had a look at him too. He was a gorgeous silver at about 15.2h, very compact and well put together. We saw him in hand, at liberty and ridden. This is Zico:

We also saw some daughters of Zico and the rest of Luis's mares, not to mention a drop dead gorgeous young stallion called Cofre - Tigre in a bullfighting body. Wowee.

Afterwards we spent a very pleasant hour chatting to Teresa, catching up on all things Luso and in the process finding a rider for T for the next breed show, so very excited about that. Thank you Teresa for a wonderful afternoon; it was a true pleasure to meet you.

Day 2

With much anticipation Noodle and I set off to Campo Grande for the festival on Friday. So nice to have the festival back at what many consider to be its true home and more to the point back in the place where it was when I first went back in 2000. Not to mention where we first met Q. Let it be said that a combination of circumstances caused us to arrive (a) later and (b) more turgid of bladder than planned, but that was soon forgotten as we met up with fellow Luso enthusiasts and enjoyed a beer, a bifana, coffee, cake and lots of Luso eye candy. I quickly lost count of the number of Spartacus sons and daughters on display. We nosed around the stalls and I availed myself of the opportunity to acquire a programme, a pair of chaps and a very nice portrait of Filipe Graciosa replicating a glorious passage.

So a lovely day, awash with sun, Lusos and bonhomie. Marvellous. As evening drew on we made our way back to the car park, frowning a little as I was quite sure the car wasn't where I had left it. Hmmm. Walked up and down a bit until forced to conclude that yes, the car was Definitely Not There. Difficult to relay the range of emotions that washed over us at this point, but probably best summarised by "oh fuck".

So. Car gone, what to do. Got hold of a number for the car park admin; "fala Ingles?" One quickly realises that the smidgen of Portuguese one relies upon for the basics of restaurant ordering and kindergarten-level pleasantries will really Not Do in this sort of situation. Car park people didn't have it. Called the rental company, got a nice lady called Silvia to ring around for me, who thinks it's very unlikely to have been nicked. It's about now that the realisation washes over me that this was now a PAYING CAR PARK and guess what, I hadn't noticed. I could blame it on all sorts of things but what it comes down to in the cold light of day is utter blondeness. Fuckwittage even. A monumental cock up, the price of which we were about to embark upon paying during the course of the next few hours.

Silvia calls back to inform me that the car has been towed, gives me the details and advises me to get a cab to the car pound to reclaim it. The good news is that it's not too far away and it's open til midnight. We spend a pleasant half hour trooping around to find a cab, and eventually flag one down near the stadium. Off we tootle to the area reported to contain the car pound; no pound to be found. Engage in animated conversation with a number of cab drivers and eventually alight upon one who knows where it is, and gives us directions. On arrival at said pound, I am asked to produce my documents which, luckily, I have on me. I suspect we would still be there if I hadn't. That's 120 Euro please. Resigned, I hand over my card. Sorry, we don't take that type of card, they said. Please try anyway, I said, tiptoeing by now around the brink of a yawning chasm of desperation. Needless to say, it didn't work. Natch. Find the nearest Multibanco, the nice lady advises. Where is that? I ask. In the zoo, she replies. Of course!

We troop back the way we came, into the zoo and track down the Multibanco. Back to the pound, at which stage a queue of fellow fuckwits/miscreants/blonde people has formed and we are obliged to wait while they are dealt with in a fashion which can only be described as glacial. Arg. Arg. Finally, our turn again, I hand over the wedge and eventually we are shown past the array of burly security men through the tall gate with spikes and barbed wire on it to our trusty steed. Well, I say we but Noodle is impelled to wait outside. Perhaps they were concerned that she might try to make off with another of their prized impounds, as though we are a pair of hardened car thieves and not just a brace of incompetent Johnsons.

Finally, the ordeal is over and we can worm our way out of Lisbon feeling, it must be said, battered and beleaguered by our three hour epic contrived entirely from our own stupidity, back to Sobral and the sanctity of Antonio and Joao's house, wondering all the while if a freak tsunami would thunder through the streets of Lisbon at any moment and wash us away, or whether a rogue asteroid would hurtle from the sky and bury itself in the roof of our car just to add the cherry on top of the pile of steaming doodoo. As it was none of this happened and we made it back, somewhat frayed but with the black humour reserved for these sorts of occasions fully restored.

Day 3
In the morning Noodle got a riding lesson with Antonio and Lusitano, which went well aside from a spot of panic at the canter. Not entirely surprising since it was her first one since she last rode as a kid and fell off on her first canter.

Another afternoon at the festival, only this time without incident. We eschew our planned feasting at the fabled Jockey club buffet in an effort to make up ground on the previous day's unforseen expenditure, and tuck into another bifana. And some cake. Spend the entire afternoon watching an array of classes and manage to arrive home again unmolested by any sort of disaster. Not a huge number of breeders present but the crowds were healthy and it was also gratifying to see that not everyone is intent on breeding Lusosauruses.

Day 4
Another lesson for Noodle on Lusitano, regrouping confidence and developing her balance at the trot. Lusitano was such a good boy and really looked after her. We decided to go to Obidos with Antonio and Joao instead of spending another day at the festival, to see a bit more of Portugal. Obidos is a very old town near Torres Vedras and the fact that it is the centre of Ginja production only mildly influenced our decision to go there. Ginja is an excellent liqueur traditionally served in chilled chocolate cups. We enjoyed mooching around the town and catching a couple of tunes from a band dressed in mediaeval clothes playing funky mediaeval music. I imagine the belly dancer represented Portugal's strong Moorish influence but in any case she was really good and it all hung together surprisingly well. We also found a boyfriend for Knickers.

Day 5
Morning: lessons for Noodle and I. I rode a large but quite sluggish Luso stallion called Astro and Noodle had a lunge lesson on a dun gelding, during which she gained top marks for really finding her balance in trot and making her first steps towards conquering her cantering fears. Go Noodle! We also met in the flesh the sires of our boys, Assirio and Galheteiro. We watched Assirio being worked and he was fabulous - hopefully I can post a video clip soon. Galheteiro was so sweet - an old boy at 23 but still strong and secure through his back and very nicely conformed, along more traditional lines.

We didn't have long afterwards for pleasantries as we were due to drive over to the Alentejo for a visit to the Coudelaria Monte de Tramagueira, near Teja. Let me tell you it's a long drive straight after a lesson and with no time for lunch or coffee, during which time I learnt that woman cannot survive on pasteis de natas alone. Still, it was all well worth it as we had THE most fabulous time meeting the utterly charming Filipe, owner of this magnificent 300+ ha farm and the delightful Angelique who works with Filipe and is doing some fantastic work there with horses. The yard and boxes were immaculate and all the horses had a constant supply of hay. Don Soberano is a truly spectacular stallion and I look forward to seeing how he develops in his career. We spent a wonderful couple of hours meeting all the horses, and I quite fell in love with a one year old Assirio daughter and a two year old colt who is exactly the stamp of horse that I like. Good job my pockets and wallet aren't as capacious as I'd like them to be. All of Filipe's horses are really friendly and well conformed, and of course schmoozing with Lusitanos is one of my all-time favourite pastimes, so we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. I realise I have used what might be considered an excessive number of superlatives to describe our afternoon, but it really was that good.

Day 6
All that remained for day 6 was to make our farewells and depart for the airport. We caused some consternation to the TAP staff when presenting the whip for travel, and ended up having to wrap it up in newspaper before they would allow it into oversized luggage, while the agent told us all about how he rides once a year and invariably ends up with a sore bum because he doesn't do it often enough. Grinning at both the shared experience of sore bums and the incongruity of the conversation in that particular setting, we went our separate ways and headed off into the bowels of the airport - where we waited, and waited, and waited, for 5 extra hours in fact. Yep, the plane was delayed "for operational reasons". So instead of getting home mid afternoon and looking forward to catching up with everyone at leisure, in fact we arrived home about 10pm, just over 12 hours after we left Sobral.

Back from the vets

2011-06-22T16:36:00.000+01:00

A day off today to take Xacra and Golfinho to the vets for her AI. We tried loading in the field at first and although Xacra walked straight in, Golfinho took to galloping around yelling in his tiny foal voice, causing mum to panic as he hove out of view at speed. It soon became obvious that a change of tack was called for, so once again we took the gate into the corral off its hinges, rolled out the telegraph pole from its spot under the picadeiro fence and reveresed the trailer tight up to the entrance. We left them for a while to have a sniff, during which pleasant interlude the gate fell on Knickers' head and very nearly brained her, then got Xacra back on board and kept her calm while Golfinho faffed around and Knickers encouraged him back towards the trailer. Within a few minutes he appeared at the ramp and with mum's encouragement clambered on like a good boy, just as the heavens opened and down it came.

Pheel arrived just as we were mooching down the drive ready to go, to do a quick inspection of the hard standing at the back of the boys' paddocks and discuss next steps. It was only as we were on our way to the vets that I realised that while I was nodding and smiling while he spoke, I actually had no recollection at all of what he'd actually said, so resolved to call him once we got home.

The journey to the vets was straightforward and made better by the fact that this time I wasn't going to make the mistake of driving up the wrong street, the narrow one with the cars parked along one side; the one that requires very careful reversing down while anxious car owners look on. The vet came to take Alfama and Gualter for her final scan before leaving, and we unloaded Xacra and Golfinho in the car park and put them in the paddock. Golfinho trotted off through the long grass in a very high-kneed fashion, every inch the mini Luso. Sweet. Meanwhile Gualter was looking MAHOOSIVE! The car park was awash with lorries and trailers, which meant that a number of random people were on hand to coo over him and remark upon how lovely he is :proud mum: Alfama loaded straight away and after a bit of hesitation and the help of two assistants each with an arm around his bum, Gualter loaded in a few moments as well. Splendid.

The trip home was uneventful and once restored to their paddock the two of them spent a pleasant half hour charging around and catching up with all the news. Very glad to have them home.

At this rate we'll be collecting Tigre as well as Xacra & Golfinho on Saturday, and then our reasonably sized collection of Lusos will be restored to their rightful place at the homestead.

Meanwhile, the pixies had been and flattened the last load of stone in Q's winter paddock, leaving the unavoidable conclusion that one further load was going to be needed. So if anyone out there is wondering how many lorry loads of stone are required to make two lots of hard standing for small all weather turnout areas, the answer appears to be 4. The mind boggles at how much rubber will be required to finish it off.

This year's breedings

2011-06-19T19:42:00.000+01:00

We've hemmed and hawed for some time now over arrangements for this year's breedings; we knew which stallion we wanted to put with which mare, but having opted for AI, it remained to determine how that would be achieved. Initially we didn't want them to have to go away but realised this was the only practical solution, especially when using frozen semen for one of them and the attendant need to have the mare scanned every six hours. That would make for a pretty meaty vet bill in no time flat, and AI is not a cheap option. If we could drop everything at a moment's notice to get the boys off to stud so that we could use fresh, it wouldn't necessarily be such an issue, but we don't, and so it is. Live cover starts to look increasingly appealing :)

We had the mares scanned on Friday, with the aim being to try and coordinate the girls being inseminated at near enough the same time. Alfama was nearly ready and Xacra a while off so the vet left me an injection to bring forward her season to give yesterday, and arrangements were made to take Alfama (and by association, Gualter) to the vet's today, and Xacra on Wednesday. Made arrangements with Madeleine for chilled semen from Tigre (for Alfama) and frozen from Q (for Xacra) to be delivered tomorrow, and dashed about getting a single breast bar for the trailer etc yesterday in preparation.

Alfama loaded like a pro this morning but Gualter wasn't having any of it. We tried everything during the course of a pleasant few hours but in the end called in reinforcements (thanks Dan!) to bodily lift him on to the trailer. Once in he was fine and they travelled really well. I can now say, as a result of my maiden voyage with such newly minted and precious cargo on board, that I can clench my butt continuously for a whole 50 minutes or so that it took to get to the vets, while studiously ignoring the long tail plume of followers we accrued while negotiating some truly appalling road surfaces. I can also reverse the trailer down a narrow road with parked cars along one side when the sat nav sends me up the wrong street, with anxious neighbours looking on who are well accustomed to horse boxes reversing carefully down their narrow road with their cars parked along one side while they look for the clinic.

Alfama has been scanned again and pronounced ready; the semen will arrive tomorrow, so fingers are crossed that all goes well. And I look forward to doing the same again with Xacra and Golfinho on Wednesday.

Meanwhile back on the homestead things have been busy and productive. Knickers did her first complete solo lunge session with Q and did beautifully, so I am almost as pleased with and for her as she is with herself :) Q was an absolute superstar too. That boy is worth his weight in gold. Sid is finishing off the logo and the web site is coming along. We shall be spending a good deal of time trailering horses around in the next few days; T remains at stud next week having more semen frozen down, and we collect him on Saturday. I guess we will be collecting Alfama and Gualter on Friday evening, and Xacra some while later.

So, fingers crossed that all goes well and that the girls can be confirmed in foal without too much ado!

And oh yes, there is the festival in Lisbon to look forward to in about three weeks' time; 5 days of sun, Lusos, friends and stud visits to wallow in - bliss!

First appointment with the farrier, and other matters

2011-06-11T12:42:00.000+01:00

In preparation for next winter (ugh!) work has started on developing an all weather area behind the boys' stables, which will allow them some outdoor space to mooch even in the worst weather. I really dislike keeping horses confined to a stable, almost as much as the boys themselves dislike it now that they are accustomed to being able to come and go as they please.

Stage 1: bring in large digger to scrape out the back of excess earth accumulation and flatten it down. We decided that while we were about it we might as well add some drainage to their winter paddocks since these fare the worst during the bad weather. I was a bit loath to have the ground disturbed but Richard, digger driver extraordinaire and Brad Pitt doppleganger, did an excellent job.

Stage 2: we are as I write awaiting the delivery of two lorries full of hardcore, which will serve as the base for the all weather areas. Again, Sod's Law dictates that in preparation for this work we had a lot of rain last night, but hopefully the paddocks will stand up well to it as it's all still looking pretty firm.

Stage 3 will comprise the installation of a rubber surface, at some as yet undetermined future date in the next week or so. Brad will be back on Monday to flatten it.

We had a farrier appointment yesterday afternoon; the first for Gualter. God, he's SUCH a poppet. He did wriggle a bit but was very good and is sporting a nice trim all round as a result, as are the girls who had undergone quite a bit of hoof growth in the intervening period since the last visit. Alfama is fine about having her feet handled while Xacra remains a little leery of her back feet, but all were done with a minimum fuss.

Meanwhile, success for T at stud, having grown accustomed to the dummy and provided his first sample on day 3 of training. He is charming everyone with his winning ways and his unparalleled ability to get his headcollar off at any opportunity.

Next we'll build a winter pen for the younglings between the two boys' all weather areas, and convert the stable designated grooming room into a proper grooming bay with cross ties. After that we'll make an all weather area for the girls to include the picadeiro, which will hopefully allow us to preserve the fields through the winter.

I've also got to get on to the vets about having the mares scanned in preparation for being put in foal again.

Never a dull moment! Or a cheap one, come to that.

Ups and downs

2011-06-05T21:09:00.000+01:00

After much deliberation, we've decided to call Xacra's little colt Golfinho. We kept a close eye on things in his first few days, and last Saturday afternoon we noticed that he was getting very agitated when suckling. Upon closer inspection it was clear that Xacra had little if any milk - argh. Timing of course couldn't have been worse, although there's never a good time for such things - about 5:30pm on the Saturday afternoon of a Bank Holiday weekend. I made an immediate call to the vet, who managed to source some milk replacer for us; Sid and Knickers went off to get that and some antibiotics for Xacra, while I ran around trying to get hold of a bottle. The farmer across the road had one but the nipple on it was for calves and much too wide a hole diameter. Argh. Luckily the vets had sourced one for us, so we thought we were all set aside from the obvious issue of how to go about the bottle feeding.

The marvels of Facebook meant that I had recently come into contact with someone who had tragically had to deal with an orphaned foal, so I knew she would be a good person to ask. In no time at all we were chatting on the phone and she gave me chapter and verse on how to go about the bottle feeding. In short we had to corner him and make sure we got some down his neck; not a nice thing to have to do but necessary. It took three of us in the end: one to hold Xacra, one to hold the foal and another to administer the milk. It's a messy business and was an anxious time for all concerned.

My FB friend (Jess) had also mentioned the need for caution when it came to feeding a broad spectrum milk replacer such as the one we had got from the vets, and offered to provide us with a specific foal milk replacer from the stock she had in for her boy, George. In the end we all set off just after 11pm Saturday evening on the hour's journey to Canterbury to collect it, and while we were there Jess and her partner Jamie gave us a demo of bottle feeding with gorgeous George, and basically gave us all the information we needed to cope with our crisis - including a lot of reassurance which was very much needed. What wonderful people to accommodate us, perfect strangers with only our mutual love of horses and breeding in common, in the way that they did, providing us with foal milk replacer, prebioitics and such a huge amount of information, at some ungodly hour of the night - especially considering their own three hourly feeding routine for George. Not only that but following up, keeping in touch to find out how we were all doing, over the next few days. If you're reading this Jess and Jamie, let me send your way one further huge "thank you" for your incredible kindness. I know you'll know just how much we appreciate it, and if there's ever anything we can do in reciprocation, you know where to find us!

Xacra was started on her antibiotics and Golfinho was much more accepting of the Aintree milk, so over the course of the next 24 hours we were able to get quite a bit into him every couple of hours. Once he got the taste of it we could offer the bottle from under Xacra's belly, and he'd latch on and glug it down. Xacra herself was amazing through this, so patient with me grubbing about under her belly, with her son getting very bumptious in his efforts to get milk - and one might imagine how uncomfortable that would be with rock-hard teats. She is amazing. I'm sure she was well aware we were trying to help her baby.

By the time Sunday evening came around it was clear that (a) he was starting to get some milk, and (b) he had lost all interest in the bottle. We took the communal decision to let them get on with it with just one 3am check, and thereon in they went from stretngth to strength, which was good because we were completely and utterly battered on the rather meagre rations of 2 and a half hours' sleep. Adrenaline will keep you going only for so long, but when you crash, oh god. I honestly don't know we'd have coped if the situation had gone on much longer.

Through this week mother and son have been doing well, and as he's been getting stronger we've let them out in the paddock on their own more and more. He's a bolshy little so and so! Methinks we are going to have our hands full with him.

In amongst all of this we had made arrangements to take Tigre to stud on Saturday morning, Luckily for me, as I was utterly battered by the end of the working week, Sid and Knickers gave him a bath on Friday and Knickers packed his bags for him, so all I had to do on Saturday morning was hitch up the trailer and load him up. He loaded and travelled well, and confined himself to a grunt and an arch of his neck as we walked along an aisle full of stallions to his stable. The stud's incomparable proprietor has kindly agreed to set up a small paddock for him so he can continue to go out on restricted turnout, and he starts his collection training tomorrow. I cannot say enough about the amazing team at Hobgoblins.

When we got back from stud, we put Xacra and Golfinho out with Alfama and Gualter for the first time. A moment of trepidation for us given the not insignificant size differential between the two boys (whom we might collectively refer to as Biggie Smalls) but all went well. What a thrill to see them all running around together, our little herd :) Xacra was being very protective and spent a lot of time laying down the law with teeth, feet and a range of truly appalling facial expressions, but as things went on it all settled down. It'll be a little while before we leave them all out together overnight, so they are coming into the shelter overnight or the stable if the weather is rancid as now, so Alfama and Gualter can have the shelter. We brought them all in for a spell this afternoon as it was raining hard and we wanted to do some preps for the farrier visit, and Gualter led in like a little pro. He is such a diamond little bloke! He needs to work on his herd place though as I was somewhat surprised earlier to see Golfinho chasing him around earlier :O

So all in all, things are settled again and at last we have some rain.

And then there were six

2011-05-28T10:35:00.001+01:00

Last weeekend saw the final push to get the CCTV finished; thoroughly sick of the sight of coax cable, crimping tools and other cabling accoutrements. Sid worked late into the night getting the video card etc working, setting up accounts for us so when I woke next morning the first thing I saw was one fully operational control room, thus:

We also removed the partition from the shelter to create a nice large area for Xacra, which we christened "the foaling suite". All set up for the new arrival :)

On Sunday Knickers and I went to a dressage clinic with Bento Castelhano which, aside from one nice WB mare was a complete Luso fest. We really enjoyed it and found Bento to be excellent, so I would like to take one of the boys next time and take part in a lesson. Need to bring up our fitness levels though :O

Knickers had her final exam on Monday, and stayed up Monday night on foal watch, although Xacra was showing no real signs of being imminent. Feeling we had garnered a bit of experience after grasping at every tail switch from Alfama when she was due, we waited and waited for the signs that would tell us she was very close.

Except that they never came! Sid was up working in the early hours of Wednesday morning and last checked her at about 3:30am. When I got up at 6am I stumbled, bog eyed and bleary into the office and stared stupidly at the screen trying to process the fact that where there was only one horse before, now there were two. Argghhhhhh! Ran downstairs, alerting Knickers who, utterly oblivious, was feeding the smalls in the kitchen, that we appeared to have a new arrival, and raced out there to find that yes indeed, during the night the stork had brought us one very tiny little Luso baby :)

But argh! How long ago, and was everything ok? Raced back into the house to get Sid who checked back on the footage to find that Xacra had given birth, very easily it seemed, at about 3:44am, not ten minutes after he'd gone to bed. No evidence that the baby had suckled though - argh. Got a headcollar on Xacra and stood her still to let the baby find her teats and after that all was well and they were off. The vet came to check them both over; all was well. We have a gorgeous new little colt and after some lively discussion have opted to call him Golfinho :)

The two of them have the small run outsider the shelter for a few days until he has got a bit stronger. He is quite a bit smaller than Gualter was - more the sort of size one might expect for a first foal, but then his sire is smaller. On saying that they did go for a brief foray into the field - Alfama and Gualter were closed off in the other paddock and Xacra took her baby for a quick spin around the field, then back into the run. I can't wait to see them all out together, athough a bit concerned about the size difference between the two boys. However I have no doubt that Xacra will operate an iron rod over proceedings, being the unmistakeable Boss Mare that she is :)

Meanwhile, the vet came again yesterday (am considering asking them for a discount, or going the whole hog and installing one on site) to check on T who, in the midst of passaging very animatedly for the laydeez, was pronounced sound! So he will be going off to stud next weekend, which is excellent. Let us hope that he proves to be as quick a study as Q in the use of the dummy. We have to broaden his turnout horizons carefully so as not to risk a relapse, and won't start bringing him back into work until he comes home from stud.

Many doings

2011-05-08T22:38:00.000+01:00

On Wednesday evening Gualter was really quiet, not himself at all, so we called the vet. His temp was a little high, though not excessively so. She gave him a painkiller, for which he was very good, and we kept an eye on him overnight. It was necessary to keep an eye on him next day so I worked from home as both Sid and Knickers had to be in town. It's funny, I was ok while there were others around to consult re opinions but found it rather more nerve-wracking when on my own. He was quiet through the day and I nearly had heart failure each time he lay down in the field, to say nothing of when he completely disappeared only to be found in the goat shelter, but he seemed to rally through the day and by evening was pretty much back to normal.

On Friday evening I worked Q at liberty; sometimes a challenge keeping his attention when the girls and littlun wandered up right next to the fence, but he did it, and even consented to go over the raised poles at a gesture. Such a good lad. We've also been working on the girls' feet, which I admit we have been a bit slack with :badness:. Alfama was excellent but Xacra is a bit leery and needs to be romanced along, as she lost her balance last time she was trimmed and is a bit nervous about standing on three legs, while I am bit nervous about the potential for having my head kicked off. This is not at all helped by her zeppelin of a belly. Meanwhile Gualter is doing very well at having his feet picked up. He's an absolute star that boy, and SO SWEET.

On Saturday we did a load of cabling for the CCTV, and moved the goat shelter from the girls' field to T's winter paddock, which involved dragging it very slowly with the LandCruiser through several paddocks and gateways to the accompanying aroma of burning clutch and hoping it didn't get shaken to bits. I also made a goatie platform by the simple expedient of lashing together two pallets with some baler twine and nailing some chipboard on top. I was glad I opted to do this inside the shelter, as it would have been something of an arse to have had to manhandle it in there afterwards. To finish off I nailed on two broom heads as goatie scratching posts, a salt lick, a hay net and a liberal smattering of straw, and it was finished. It's ace! The goats wasted no time in coming to investigate, and gave it a thorough road test by trying out the platform and the scratching post in very short order. Needless to say that Angie has commandeered the platform, as we knew she would :) Knickers said she caught all three of them in there this morning when it rained for a while, which is grand. Next I rode Q, who was appalled by the appearance of the shelter, and horrors! at the sight of it - With Goats Inside It And Everything! The expression on the back of his head was truly priceless, but once we got working he knuckled down and we had a great session.

Today, more cabling and the small matter of trying to flatten a very poached area next to the water trough in the mares' second field, which is too dangerous to let them out into, as it has solidified into very rough ground. We have made some progress with (a) our home made irrigation system, and (b) liberal use of the LandCruiser. Needs a few sessions more but is much better and I am hoping we can let them out onto the new grass next weekend. The lack of rain is not helping new growth and we really need to rest their current field.

We had to move T's pen this morning as he was getting a bit too excited near the neighbour's mares. During the course of said move we had what might be described as an involuntary trot up and I was thrilled to see that he is much improved. Not 100% sound but considerably better. I think I'll give him another couple of weeks in the pen and then ask the vet to revisit. Speaking of vets, there seems to have been an inordinate number of encounters with them of late, what with T, Gualter, Dora turning out to have a hypoactive thyroid, Jim needing check ups to assess progress on his weak hind legs (good), the girls having their vaccinations and the small matter of Ted's abscess at the base of his tail after he got into a scrap. Sounds expensive doesn't it? It is.

Had a lesson with Mandy this afternoon, which was excellent. Q is much more consistently going to the contact and I am generally feeling improvements in all sorts of ways. Our transitions have also improved. I'm hoping to have a lesson at another venue during the week to continue our ongoings efforts to prepare to get out for a competition before I die of old age.

Xacra was much better tonight with her feet, and Gualter had his completely picked out for the first time :) God, he's such a poppet. He also had his first exchange of whinnies with Q, which was so sweet that I almost had to be scraped up off the floor.

So there we have it, another quiet weekend.

Back to work tomorrow

2011-05-02T21:27:00.000+01:00

Last day of two weeks of hols today , which have actually felt like two weeks rather than two minutes. As mentioned we did loads in the first week and had a slightly more relaxing time during the second. We took the dogs to the beach, which was great fun in spite of the weather being "sub-optimal" with a wind that very nearly blew us off our feet and gave us a nice case of sand blasting of the face. Still, it was good to see the dogs enjoying themselves, feel the sand between our toes and finish off with fish and chips. We also went out for dinner for the first time in ages, and had the most amazimg evening with our excellent neighbours, enjoying a delicious barbecue and a great deal of drinking and dancing later on, taking the opportunity to finish off the rest of last year's home made sloe gin.

Q has had more work than he felt was perhaps strictly necessary, but was particularly splendid throughout. I've been teaching Knickers to lunge and she's coming on a treat. Q is very polite but not easy to lunge, requiring complete attention to one's body language, so she's done really well in developing both her attiude and focus, as well as the not inconsiderable task of getting to grips with managing the rope and the whip. We've also enjoyed some great sessions with Mandy, so feel we have all been making some good progress.

Speaking of progress we had the best leading session so far with little Gualter tonight. He really seemed to turn a corner and was thinking it all through as we went along, so I was thrilled with him. What a clever and sweet freshly minted little chap he is.

When I went out tonight I heard the goats yelling from over in T's summer paddock, which is quite unusual, as normally if they wanted in they'd have been waiting at his stable. I went to investigate and discovered that one of the gates had slammed shut in the wind, blocking their route. I went down to open it, calling them in as I went, and saw them all making a run for it down the field to meet me. They seemed full of vim and vigour, as a trainer of ours used to say, and as it was we all galloped up the field together back to the yard; that is me, the goats and the dogs. I can tell you as a result that you haven't lived if you haven't galloped through a field with a herd of goats at tea time :)

Time Out

2011-04-24T09:23:00.000+01:00

Another beautiful day today, Easter Sunday, to sit on the patio catching up with my blog while the morning dew is still fresh on the grass, the girls are snoozing in their shelter, the furries are arrayed around the garden and the birds are singing. After a week off, I feel myself really starting to relax and enjoy the tranquility of the morning.

We've achieved huge amounts this week: we've put the greenhouse up and sown tomatoes, chillies, pak choi, melon, swet corn and runner beans; we've prepped two seed beds and installed spring onions, chantenay carrots, mixed lettuce, wild rocket and cucmber in one of them, and lots of herbs in another.

We've planted 100 willow trees (!) to develop horse-friendly hedgerows and begin coppicing for firewood as part of the ongoing drive towards sustainability and we've constructed and installed "Chateau Poulet", otherwise known as a fruit cage commandeered for the new chicken pen, complete with paddling pool:

An array of chums have been to visit this week; Chris and Steve followed by Mark, Gina & Estelle with their little JRT, Chester, which has been splendid. We all went tramping around Dering Woods to witness the spectacle of the bluebells and to get lost after going off-piste and spending some considerable time battling our way through the undergrowth in an effort to return to civilisation. The bluebells were truly spectacular!

Horses
Meanwhile Gualter has been growing like a weed and has had his first leading lesson. Given that he's such a feisty little bugger it went remarkably well, so more to follow on that today.

Q is back at work after his time at sexy camp and seems to be enjoying it, and it's good to be having lessons again. I am hoping to get him out to a local yard for a lesson this week while I have time, and there is talk of a clinic with Andrew Murphy for Mandy's clients, so I particularly want to get him to that if possible, and out to that venue beforehand to make sure that we don't spend the entire time getting him used to the place :)

Tigre seems to be doing very well and is spending up to 12 hours a day out at grass in his pen, which keeps him to a pleasant simmer. He and Q have settled back into their daily snorting and breathing contests while grazing peacably the rest of the time.

Next week we have quite a bit more to do: install the rest of the CCTV, lots more planting, connecting up the remaining water tanks, planting more willow trees, irrigating the fields from the water butts, lots of weeding and more work with Littlun. We keep threatening to have a quiet day and invariably end up embarked on some major project that keeps us busy until late. S'good though.

Q is home

2011-04-17T11:23:00.000+01:00

Yesterday, the first day of a much anticipated two weeks' holiday, dawned rather earlier than ideal but mitigated by the fact that it was time to go and collect Q from stud. He whinnied as soon as he saw us and I must admit, a glad tear or two were shed in the reunion. He's looking glorious, having been given a bath on Friday and was all shiny and ready to go home, having deposited some 17 doses in the liquid nitrogen tank that constitutes the stud's sperm bank, test thawed and apparently very good quality. I must say that the stud has been absolutely fantastic and I would not hesitate to recommend them.

Upon arrival back at Luso Towers Q did of course strut off the trailer after the fashion of a man who has discovered the joys of sex, albeit with a dummy mare, an AV and several human attendants. The expression on T's face was quite priceless and there followed the inevitable squealing, snorting exchange as they caught up on two weeks' worth of news. We left T in his pen while Q was turned out and there followed quite a glorious display of stallion vitality and joie de vivre as Q pranced around making sure that everything was as it should be and they continued their re-association with a staring contest, more snorting and the throwing of numerous impressive shapes - big trots from Q and repeated caprioles form T, while Knickers and I held our collective breaths and hoped that T would not undo all the work that has gone into his rehab.

Speaking of T's rehab, he has been coping well being out in a small pen made of electric rope in his summer paddock, but we weren't at all sure that this would be viable when Q came back. I therefore decided to conduct the inevitable greeting over the fence in a controlled fashion, keeping T on a long rope. Anticipating an aerial element to the proceedings, I even put on my riot gear (ok, my hat and a glove) but I need not have worried. It was quite civilsed and T was returned to his pen.

Q spent the next hour or so pacing up and down, up and down the fence line, so I decided to put him out in his summer paddock near the other horses , wondering how it would go with he and T sharing a fence line. Well it was ok, T is being surprisingly sensible and Q soon left to graze after coming out with a good few strides of Spanish walk, while I cleaned out the water trough. Next thing I know, the lower line of electric fence started jumping around and I looked up to see Q with a front leg caught in it, on his knees. Argh. This has happened before though so I wasn't too worried, and in short order he freed himself and took off snorting doing the most amazing Spanish trot! It was quite spectacular and I only wish I had a camera with me. Needless to say, a minor fence repair was called for but thereafter they all settled down. Later when I went to bring Q in I noticed him herding the others, neck low and snaking. I've not seen him do that before. Will ride him today and ensure that he remains fully cognisant of his place in the proceedings.

Meanwhile, we've opened up the field shelter in the mares' field and they stayed out for the first time last night. We were a bit cautious as they all piled on their on the first day of Gualter's turn out, and he was cornered and booted by Xacra. Now however things have settled down and all seemed to be well.

We had a fab meal last night to celebrate my birthday: Knickers prepared a fab table and we tucked into a gorgeous Thai feast that Sid made of beef and mushroom salad, cashew chicken and mango & lime fool, with a very nice Margaux to wash it down. Nom. A day to feel very blessed indeed.

A week ago tonight

2011-04-12T22:56:00.000+01:00

So our little colt, Gualter, is a week old today. He is a darling little man and we are all quite smitten.There is nothing quite like watching your own little herd enjoying life out in the field, whether charging around or quietly grazing, with Littlun lying in a cute heap at Alfama's feet. We are very excited about him and it's amazing watching him learning to use his body with a range of athletic manoeuvres - levades, caprioles, reinback and a very nice, easy canter as he runs and plays alongside Alfama.

We have had some moments of concern, such as when he got a bit too close to Xacra in a tight space and she booted him - argh. But he seems quite robust and is learning some important lessons about the perils of getitng too close to the alpha mare. Alfama doesn't hesitate to nip him if he suckles too robustly and there's no question he is benefiting from the lessons. From us he is learning that one does not mouth humans and that it's ok to be petted all over. Makes you realise just how easily it would be for orphan foals to turn into brats without this modulating herd influence.

Last night there was a rainbow and we got this pic:

And one of Xacra with her waxing belly, still six weeks or so away from her due date:

Boys
Meanwhile we have been making further adjustments to T's arrangements in an effort to keep him sane. For the last four days he has been happy grazing in a penned off area in his summer paddock, which is marvellous. I'm sure there aren't that many stallions who would be able to be confined by a single strand of electric rope in a small pen in spring with lots of in season mares around, but so far he is one of them. This arrangement, along with the pen outside his stable where he can stand and watch Dan's horses seems to be working. I've ordered the Zilcan from the vitnery just in case.

Report from the stud is that Q's first test freeze went well, so that is good news. We'll do as many freezes as budget alows then hopefully have him home this weekend. Can't wait. It's not the same without him.

The stork has been :)

2011-04-07T21:04:00.000+01:00

We are absolutely delighted with the arrival on Tuesday night of Alfama's baby, a beautiful colt! It was a textbook delivery and she was amazing - from waters breaking to delivery in about 20 minutes, normal and unbelievable all at the same time :)

It all began about 9:50pm; I was in bed on account of the pressing urge for an early night when Sid came barrelling up the stairs to inform me that something was definitely occurring - he and Knickers had seen her waters breaking on the CCTV. It's funny how time slows down at these times and it seems to take an age to get dressed and down to the yard but is actually only a few moments. When we arrived we could see the bag and a foot poking out, and within moments she lay down - with her bum right in the corner by the water bucket on the wall. Argh. Luckily we had taken heed from Lotty's experience and built very big banks, which gave the possibility to move a mound of straw out of the way to prepare for the little one's arrival.

That done, down to business. The bag was the right colour so thankfully no signs of dystocia, and a normal presentation with two forelegs quickly followed by a nose. What a gargantuan effort on her part; it felt as though it was taking forever and the urge to break the bag was quite pressing, but I knew she had to pass the shoulders and rib cage before that could be safely done. Passing the shoulders was a huge effort as might be expected, but once the rib cage was out the bag burst on its own, baby took his first breath and they rested for a while before the rest of him was delivered. What a joy to be the first person to touch him, and towel him off. Alfama stayed lying down for a while ensuring the safe transfer of precious nutrient-rich blood before she eventually got up and broke the cord.

It took about 45 minutes (not that we were counting) for him to get to his feet and stagger around the stable, and two hours after he was born he hadn't mastered the art of latching on, so I rang the vet to see how long we should wait before becoming concerned. It was clearly exhausting stuff for him, and Alfama kept lying down, knackered. The vet said to give it another hour and, natch, not 10 minutes had I got off the phone with her than he did finally latch on and get the all-important colostrum. Splendid. We left them to it and soon afterwards she passed the placenta, so back out to wrestle it into a bucket and examine it for any missing bits. I was surprised at how big, heavy and, well, meaty it was, and also relieved that it was quite easy to see that it was whole.

He is a beautiful and surprisingly big strong boy, and fragile all at the same time. He is currently a dun colour with a black mane and tail, though expected to be gret what with mom and dad both being grey, and the most exquisitely soft and new little soul. The whole thing was just awesome.

In the end, after all that emotional upheaval before the event, I found myself cool and almost a bit detached with the need to on hand to attend Alfama; Sid was beside himself and Knickers was weeping freely. For me the emotion of it all really hit home the next morning and perhaps luckily I had the prospect of a presentation with our top boss man in the afternoon to keep me in check. Really Did Not Want to leave the homestead that day, I can tell you.

Meanwhile, every day there is evidence of him getting stronger and h spends his time drinking, sleeping and attempting to frisk. We will take some proper photos and turn them out for the first time this weekend. Can't wait!

Update on the boys

I may have already mentioned that Q took to the dummy as though he'd been doing it all his life, and provided a sample on his very first day. Since then he has repeated this every day and today, day 4, Madeleine rang to tell me that they were able to dispense with the mare and he mounted the dummy straight away. What a boy! We now need to decide how much semen to freeze down; apparently it lasts for 40,000 years, so no danger of it going off.

Meanwhile T was giving me hives early this week as he has destroyed a large part of his stable with repeated caprioles. Argh. We've made a pen for him a little bigger than his stable so he can come and go at will and stand outside to watch Dan's horses on the walker (or T TV as we call it) much more calmly than when confined to barracks, so this is a relief. This combined with leading out to hand graze is keeping him at a pleasant simmer, so hopefully he can start to recover a bit now that the stress is ramped right down.

There has been a lovely sense of serenity on the yard since the boy's birth. Now all we have to do is decide what to call him. In keeping with Portuguese tradition it should begin with G this year and be a Portuguese name, and trust us to have our first foal on the ground when the name selection is quite limited. I like Gaspar or Gregorio whereas Sid is pretty set on Gualter (pronounced gal-tare). I expect Sid's choice to win out but there's always hope that persistence will win out :)

Q goes to stud, and T beats seven bells out of his stable

2011-04-04T19:44:00.001+01:00

Yesterday Knickers and I took Q for his first stud visit, where he will stay for approximately 10 days to be trained to the dummy, collected and assessed for post-freezing viability. There are very few occasions where I would be persuaded to take him somewhere **and leave him there without me** but this is one of them. The prospect of Q babies fills my heart with joy.

We had a lesson with Mandy on Saturday; setting aside the fact that I had to resist the urge to pick him up and carry him around the arena myself in an attempt to find a bit more energy, the other notable point was that he was a complete filthmeister. Poo stains galore, wild man hair, the lot. Cro-Magnon Luso. If you've seen Lord of The Rings, the Wild Men of Dunland will give you a good idea of what we were up against. As a result it was decided that he really ought to have a bath to make himself presentable, so afterwards me and Knickers set to with a bottle of shampoo and a lot of elbow grease. The transformation was several colour shades and I don't even want to think about what came out of his mane and tail. Suffice it to say he had a rug on straight away and on it stayed until moments before we loaded him, a glory of shiny white round Luso loveliness with an all new clean and fluffy mane and tail; Shadowfax restored.

The journey was fine; he loaded and travelled well. In our house we seem to have a need to come up with many different names for the same thing and, during one such conversation about his impending activities, Knickers came up with the genius title of "Sexy Camp".

We settled him in, went through the paperwork, unpacked his kit and returned home, trying not to dwell on the last view of him as we pulled away, his head right up and watching the trailer disappearing with that air of "but....!" about him. Argh.

Arrived home to find T caprioling in his stable and making some new hind foot-shaped holes in the wall. Argh. Argh. He was better out hand grazing though and again tonight and understands I think that I want him to stay reasonably still and does respond to requests for same, although finding it difficult to contain himself. I spoke to the vet tonight and the feeling is that ACP at a sufficient dose to have the desired effect presents too much of a risk of penile prolapse, so he is looking into a product called Zilcan, a new one on the market which has been receiving good reviews. Meanwhile Pheel, our hero, came round to measure up and discuss options for enclosing a stable-sized bit outside his box, so I got on the blower to McVeighs this morning and ordered a 15' gate, which he will hopefully come and fix tomorrow evening. I asked what the likely prognosis was if we simply turned him away for a couple of months, if this next idea fails. The most likely outcome is a longer recovery period, so that might be an option, but we will see.

Today has been a shitty one at work but was made considerably brighter by an update from Madeleine to say that Q has been cutting quite the dash at stud, charming everyone with his winsome ways and delighting everyone further by taking to the dummy and AV like a duck to water, jumping straight up and providing a semen sample with no bother at all. Bless his glorious heart! The next few days will be about flushing him out and assessing the semen quality before starting to freeze next week. We have to decide how many straws to freeze down and for that I need to determine (a) how much that is, and (b) how long the straws will last. A quick check on the stallion list should provide this information and then we can make an informed decision.

The Wars

2011-03-30T20:42:00.000+01:00

Whichever barsteward it was that said bad things come in threes was correct, and I'd like to ask them if they could just keep any further observations to themselves in future. Kthx.

It's been a very turbulent few days here at Luso Towers. On Sunday night we really thought Alfama was going to pop, so quickly rigged up a temporary CCTV connection to the TV while we await the arrival of the PC and capture card. By the time it was done and we had sat, gripped, agonising over every tail lift and glance at her belly, for a suitable period, it was 1am and way past bed time. Knickers volunteered to take the first foal watch and off we went to bed. Next morning up as normal and was just going for a final look before leaving for work when I noticed she was looking very unsettled and her belly had dropped noticeably. "This is definitely it this time!" I thought, for the five thousandth time. All you experienced equine midwives out there will doubtless be sniggering at this from behind your cloak of nonchalance, but I can tell you for the first timer this is nerve-wracking stuff. I just couldn't leave, convinced I would miss all the action, and my boss kindly allowed me to work from home. It was rather nice actually sitting there on the sofa, beavering away and having only to glance up and see how she was doing. At least until they went out, anyway, but even then just a glance out the lounge window confirmed all was still respolutely un-popped. Argh.

Monday evening I took the dogs for their constitutional around the field and Willow managed to bash her leg jumping over a fence, to then run around howling on three legs. Oh God. I know she's a wuss but even so, I was worried she'd done herself a real mischief. Took her back indoors and went to finish off the yard, wondering why Jim wasn't back yet. Went out and called for him, then saw him lying next to the garage, which is unusual. It quickly became apparent that he had done himself some damage again and was barely able to walk :( so we reassembled the crate from last time and put him in there. I was able to get him to the vet next morning and promptly burst into the tears as soon as the vet said "so what's he done then?". I could feel the wave of emotion heading my way like a giant truck, powerless to stop it in spite of how much I clenched my teeth or gave myself a talking to. The vet thinks he has bashed himself again and rest and anti-inflammatories is the best thing. Poor Jim, I really can't bear it. He is a good patient though and has been to the loo, so I am keeping everything crossed. We may need to consider keeping him inside or making a pen for him to go outside if he is going to continue to be susceptible to these types of injuries. We'll just have to see.

Next, the afternoon off to take T to the vet clinic for his work up. In spite of not having been anywhere for ages he loaded and stood on the trailer like an old hand, and travelled really well. He was an excellent patient during the three hours we spent at the vets, submitting to nerve blocks and x rays and finally only having to be sedated to keep him still for the ultrasound, as he was getting bored and a bit restless by then. The upshot is that he has a strain in the fetlock area and is prescribed 4-6 weeks' box rest - in the first instance. So the good news is that it's soft tissue and treatable, but the bad news is the box rest. I really hate keeping horses in and he's now used to being a free spirit, so it will be hard on him. I'm reliably informed that he was caprioling in his stable today so resolved to investigate anti-boredom devices. We have a polished steel mirror that was originally intended for trailer but which has now been commandeered for his stable. Not unexpectedly he found this quite exciting and spent some time alternating between levade and capriole while sporting a giant stiffie but when I left him he was standing more quietly by it, so we shall have to see if it helps or hinders.

Tonight Jim is a little better so I am hoping that rest will be the thing for him. Willow has made a full recovery and is galloping around like normal, so that's good. Someone did however have a very dodgy (and if you're eating, I advise you not to read this next bit at the same time) arse and this morning when I arose at 5:30am I was greeted by not one or two but Three Lakes of Diarrhoea, one of Loch Nessian proportions, all over the kitchen floor. The only good thing one can say about such a predicament is that at this hour, one can proceed pretty much on auto pilot for the clean up operation.

Fingers continue to be crossed for Alfama, who is plainly very uncomfortable; for Jim, who is at present stoic on crate rest; and for T, that he can cope with his box rest.

New season

2011-03-27T15:48:00.000+01:00

I love this time of year. Spring is sending out new shoots of growth and the prospect of longer, warmer days to enjoy. At this point of the year it all stretches gloriously ahead into the far distance; the memory of wintry unpleasantness all too fresh in our minds and making the promise of the next few months even more delicious. Everyone feels like this, of course; it's the natural order of things, but it all has a particular piquancy for horse owners, and more so after the sort of winter we've just had, where record numbers of otherwise dedicated horsey folks have been questioning why the hell it is that they do what they do and whether it is all worth it. Undoubtedly, it is but I'm as glad as anyone to be emerging from the other side.

Yesterday, the last day before the clocks went forward, was very busy once again. Pheel came on Friday to roll and harrow the fields, which was nice. The restorative qualities of a good roll and harrow are not to be underestimated. By the time I got home on Friday evening it was a bit too dark to see much so the first order of business was to walk out around the paddocks to inspect developments. I also fenced off a bit of the spring paddock for the girls who were positively gleeful, kicking up their heels for about twenty seconds before settling down to the important business of grazing.

Pheel came back yesterday to fertilise the summer paddocks but we've decided to wait a bit until the winter ones are done as I didn't want to keep the horses in. Glad of that now as today is positively glorious and it would have been criminal to have to keep them stabled. Also, it seems that T does better ambling about outside than being confined so has been out grazing with his posse of goatie girlies all day, emanating that peaceful enjoyment and oneness with all things that horses do so well. We're taking him to the vet clinic on Tuesday for a work up to see if we can determine what is wrong. Depending on what happens he will then go to stud to learn to be collected in early April, the plan being that we can then get a chilled semen sample in time for Alfama's foal heat. Q can then go a bit later on with the same hope that we can time a good sample for Xacra's foal heat.

Q and I had lessons with Mandy both days this weekend and thoroughly enjoyed them. One of the exercises I particularly enjoyed was to go from E in travers, through to A on a half circle while maintaining the travers, then back on a short diagonal to E maintaining the travers and then at E renvers for a few steps, straighten and collected trot. The challenge was through the half circle to get the stretch and bend while keeping the lateral aspect. There was an interesting moment today where we heard a lot of noise, shouting and fast trotting emanating from two sets of our travelling friends thrashing their trotting ponies down the road at one hell of a whack. The girls took off, all the neighbour's horses took off, and I sat there on Q, feeling his heart beating very fast between my calves, thinking "hmmm". Bless him, he stood stock still throughout as they came into view momentarily and went thundering past the front gate, then carried on as normal. He is the world's most excellent stallion.

We celebrated Earth Hour last night with candles and a fish curry, followed by the best cheesecake I have ever tasted, courtesy of Knickers. It was a marvel to behold and ambrosia for the taste buds. Marvellous.

The CCTV installation in the foaling boxes is on hold as Sid is feeling rancid, so hopefully Alfama will keep her hind legs crossed for a while longer until that can be finished.

There's been such a sense of peace and contentment about the homestead today; the sun is shining and there are creatures everywhere. The new chickens have settled in and we've installed them in a new pen on the yard. Most of them stay put while the self-styled three amigos eschew the electric fence and escape daily to conduct their preferred hours and hours of free ranging about the establishment, scratting here, terrorising a puppy there, taking a dirt bath where they fancy. I wouldn't be at all surprised to see them wearing bandannas and pootling about the yard on mini Harleys.

Developments

2011-03-19T21:14:00.000Z

As Alfama's belly waxes like the harvest moon, so our preparations are gearing up for the blessed event. Largely this involves significant expenditure on the acquisition of CCTV equipment and other bits and bobs. Some 600m of coax cable, a base unit with video capture card, several cameras and related accoutrements suitably purloined, we were nevertheless missing some female BNC connectors which necessitated a trip into Maidstone for me this morning. I was feeling rather "sub-optimal" as it was and very much dislike driving around Maidstone town centre what with its baffling one way system, the perennial difficulty in finding a parking space near to where you want to get to and general Maidstoneyness. Put simply, it's a skankfest. Add to this a throbbing head and a bladder best described as "turgid", and it rapidly became an exercise in irritation. Still, said connectors were acquired and I hoofed it home with no idea of the time since the battery on the car died, the clock has not been reset and I didn't have my Berry with me, but with a growing sense of urgency as I thought I was due a lesson with Mandy at 1.30.

Got home at 12:30 to find the boys had arrived (that is, the boys who work with Pheel; our boys had been there all along) to fence off part of the mares' field which, in the fullness of time, is going to be covered with an all weather surface and adjoins to the picadeiro, giving them an all weather turnout area that attaches to their shelter, but also gives on to their grazing via another gate and thus allowing for all combinations of circumstances. We must be getting on for 15 gates now - erk. Made them a cup of tea and rushed to get changed and start on Q who, having been out naked for the morning had fully availed himself of the ability to roll and roll and roll, and was thus a complete horror to groom. Made it into the arena with 20mins before lesson, very quick lunge to make sure he was ok with the chainsaw and general banging going on nearby, then rode. And rode, and rode, and thought "hmm, not like Mandy to be late". Upon re-checking our text conversation, it transpired that we'd arranged a 4.30 lesson for today and the 1.30 one was for tomorrow. Gah! So we convene tomorrow.

Meanwhile Sid and Knickers were cabling up Alfama's stable with the camera and accompanying hundred metres of cabling back to the junction box in the feed room. There was soldering and crimping to do so it took some time: tomorrow will be cabling back to the house. I took T down the field to hand graze him for a while, which was nice and he was surprisingly good, confining himself to a range of Timotei moments to express his irritation at not being allowed to run free. We stood for a while at the bottom of his paddock, watching one of the adjoining mares in a lofty, flirty trot across the field. He stood nickering at her with his neck pumped up and looked absolutely glorious.

I also redid the electric fence once the boys had finished and did what I could to wrestle with the telegraph poles lying in the all weather area. We'll have to get them back with the telehandler to move the rest, as they are beyond our collective powers of influence. Had they arms, they will sit there with them folded, saying "non".

Vet visit

2011-03-18T12:59:00.000Z

A day off work today for a busy morning of routine horse care, beginning with the dentist. Q was his usual excellent self, standing patiently while the dentist rasped away at his sharp bits. T had to be sedated for his as he has a tendency towards transverse ridges, so we all decided it would be optimal to do the trot up for the vet beforehand. Don't ask me why, it just seemed like a good idea. For a stallion who has been on box rest for two weeks he was exceptionally good, but unfortunately still lame, so our next step is to take him to the clinic for further diagnostics; nerve blocks, x rays etc. Bugger it :(

Next he had his teeth done under sedation, which was fine. The vet's second purpose was to gather the biohealth swabs from both boys, which requires some cooperation of the fifth leg variety. Unfortunately even under sedation T was resolute in keeping himself to himself at all costs, irrespective of any tickling or other encouragement that went on. But there's a solution to that - enter Knickers with one very heavily pregnant Alfama to wave under his nose, among much frivolity concerning French maids' outfits, frilly knickers and the like. T dropped just enough for Peter to get the samples he needed and all under the haze of sedation, so no hooves around my ears or other Black Beauty impressions - indeed not even a whicker from the poor lad. The spirit was willing but the flesh was still under a fug. We wondered whether now might be the time to conduct a study on the effect of sedation on libido in the adult stallion, but concluded that the statistical universe of one might be deemed inconclusive when submitted to the rigours of academic analysis. I might just say that the expression on Q's face, at his door to watch the parading of HIS mare, dammit, in front of T, was pure "miffed". It was bloody funny.

We decided to rope in Alfama to assist Q with his work also, and he dropped enough in no time at all to allow Peter to gather his samples. Even with Alfama right there he stopped to be given a goodie - that boy lives for his stomach! I was very proud of him and Peter was suitably impressed at his general splendour - as well he might be.

I'm sitting writing this in the intervening period between the vet leaving and the farrier arriving, so this could be considered "half time". After some discussion we have decided to leave their vaccinations until after the babies are born, as they won't get the immune protection at this late stage anyway.

We are also considering how we juggle sending the boys to stud because if we time it right we could use chilled semem in their foal heat to set them off again and therefore not have to worry so much about the timings involved with frozen. I can just see us dashing over to the Ashdown forest and coming back bearing a precious canister of boy juice to impregnate the girls with. It's a shame their due dates aren't closer together so we'll have to finalise who is put to who and go on from there. For myself I am feeling a desperate urge for a Q/Xacra baby. We have a feeling that T/Xacra will probably create some sort of uber horse that someone like me won't be able to ride one side of. We shall see.

Stud visit

2011-03-05T23:56:00.000Z

This morning we drove over to East Sussex to visit a stud we're thinking of using for the boys. It's a small but well formed and peaceful place nestling in the Ashdown forest, well set up with adjustable dummy (and rather alarmingly set to "large" when we saw it - not used to giant horses any more), mare stocks and fully equipped processing lab for semen and embryo transfer. For us this is perfect and a minor inconvenience that it's a good hour away and longer with a trailer on the back, but we can get around that by offering only frozen semen. I notice plenty of stallions are available only with AI/frozen so the next stage will be to have them trained to the dummy and to see if they will indeed freeze. The training normally takes around 10 days. I'm not wild about the boys being away from home but in this case needs must given that none of us know what we're doing, but I'd be happy to leave them in the stud's care.

One of the downsides of them having such a nice life coming and going as they please at home is that things would be quite different when they have to go away. However they could have a half day turnout and ad lib haylage so I think that is not too shabby. The next stage is the numerous biohealth checks that need doing; Coggins, EVA, EIA etc, not to mention getting T right. Luckily we have established that none of this requires a pre-ejaculatory sample: I had visions of me parading up and down with very excited stallions next to the mares' field, waving a receptacle in the direction of their fifth leg and hoping for the best.

While there we met Millenium, a GP dressage stallion who was absolutely MAHOOSIVE. Got a crick in my neck looking up at him but he was a real sweetie. I forgot horses came that big, being so accustomed to my Iberian pocket rockets.

Meanwhile the bellies are waxing and Alfama looks like a small planet, with a horse's head, neck and legs sticking out. We have to get the CCTV set up asap and I am trying to keep myself to a pleasant simmer at the prospect of our very first baby arriving Really Quite Soon. Argh. Argh.

Lesson

2011-02-26T21:25:00.000Z

I left work early yesterday feeling rather poo, and spent the afternoon sleeping, pausing only to cast a bleary eye over the quick fencing job Pheel's boys had done to make a corral for Mr T so that he wouldn't have to be confined to his stable for his prescribed rest period, but nor was he going to have room to charge about. Slept for a further 10 hours or so overnight, which seemed to do the trick, but for the second weekend running managed a relaxed morning just in case. I could get used to that, which of course is dangerous. Here at the scrag end of winter, everyone is tired and fed up, and the constant pissing rain does nobody any favours.

Arranged with M a lesson at short notice and wasn't at all sure it would go ahead on account of the aforementioned persistence, but resolved to go and work Q regardless. His opening gambit when I appeared with the head collar was to gallop off with his tail in the air and stand there snorting, then gallop back up the field to wait for me to trudge up to him through the soggy ground. He likes to do this every now and then and we have an unspoken arrangement that he will then stand and wait for me once he's done.The trouble of course with this is that it means his undercarriage is a mud slick and I have to spend ages hosing off his legs - and in this case, his belly. Meh - he wasn't expecting that! The look he gave me was quite splendid.

A quick lunge to warm up on account of not being ridden through the week, and he was about to start throwing some shapes again when he spied that Someone (T) had recently had a roll in the arena and would have got down on his knees there and then had I not been ready for it. He then spotted the mares grazing next to the fence and put on his best trot until I reminded him that he hadn't warmed up yet and proceeded more sedately. He was quite fine after that, producing some nice stretching work through his top line - until I got on at least, at which point he began frisking like a spring lamb (translation from the expression on the back his head: "look girls, look at me! Me!" but the application of laterals helped him regain his sense of decorum and attention to Mother, and we agreed that he could leave his testosterone excesses in a sack at the side of the arena for the duration.

We spent quite a bit of time in walk in various exercises on a circle between milling, shoulder in and straightness, slowly for the carrying effect and looking for him to extend his neck a bit further, or as Mandy put it, to have the brow band an inch further forward. This went well on the right rein but on the left rein not so easy. He kept wanting to swing his bum in or escape through the outside shoulder, so we addressed this by the slightest hint of outside bend and laying the whip against his left hip. When we had a good walk, up to trot, quite a collected one and repeating the exercises. I could feel my legs floating rather disturbingly rather than draping his sides; thinking both legs as outside leg and hugging as though for piaffe did help matters although at ties I felt my hips torque as though asking for travers and again the bum would come in. Arg. He was wriggling like a giant Iberian slug so the solution to this was more forwards and straight, which of course helped hugely and then we were able to collect a bit and get a better effort. At the end we managed collection and SI and a lengthening of the neck for a few strides - bloody tough and the expression on the back of his head was priceless, but we did it. Given fitness levels we finished there, very pleased.

I have noticed that the top line muscle is developing pleasingly in front of and behind the wither, so we must be doing something right.

Next, our much anticipated outing tomorrow, which will involve divesting ourselves of all evidence of what we do at home before we set off. Cryptic huh?

The daily commute

2011-02-23T21:18:00.000Z

As a seasoned commuter, I have ample opportunity to ponder the plethora of irritations that present themselves in all their artery-clenching glory on a daily basis and, in an effort to stave off the growing urge to run amok with a range of sharp implements, I've been idly considering an array of measures and counter-measures that might be employed under certain circumstances. For the purposes of this largely theoretical exercise I intend to set aside considerations pertaining to karma and the projected maturity levels one might expect of a professional person nestling on just the wrong side of 40.

For my part, I just want to sit quietly on the train, if sit on it I must, whether it be to read the paper, a book, do some work or just snooze quietly in preparation for the day ahead. Many of my commuting counterparts clearly wish for the same thing, and indeed it is sometimes possible to do those things when fortune smiles down and those of a like mind find themselves nestled together in the same section of a carriage. On those days there is a quiet camaraderie that steals about the carriage, misty tendrils of shared contentment that swirl around our feet, distributing a wave of bonhomie and goodwill to all men. But mostly we are persistently denied this small mercy by an impressive array inconveniences and irritations that range from the mildly annoying to the all out butt-clenching, synapse-frazzling inconsideration perpetrated upon our gentle persons by that signifncant percentage of the commuting population that singularly refuses to give a flying fuck about the effect of their actions upon their neighbours. It's a microcosm of the mores of contemporary society, the entitlement freakery of the modern age that really and truly Boils My Brain.

So let's see, some examples.

The MP3 player
On the one hand a miracle of modern technology and personal freedom; on the other a rage-inducing vehicle of wrongness in the wrong hands. Is there anything worse than that persistent tinny "ch ch ch" that permeates the carriage, scientifically proven to interrupt brain waves that would otherwise be absorbed in reading or quietly snoozing in preparation for the day ahead? Being British is of course an active hindrance in this sort of situation, hard wired as we are to sit and fume in silence rather than piping up to ask the offender if they could just turn it down a bit. I do it myself, my ire fuelled by the knowledge of just what a futile, impotent response this is, but doing it all the same just in case the perp turns out to be a knife-wielding maniac.

Proposed response: calmly walk up to the offender, remove one headphone from their ear and yell "arrrrghhhhhhh" at approximately 80db directly in their ear. Alternatively, pluck the item from their lap and jump up and down on it after the fashion of Basil Fawlty, before calmly returning to one's seat and re-commencing one's business with paper/book/snooze.

The Mobile Phone User
This runs a close second in the irritation stakes. Dear user, I really could not give a rat's ass about your need to arrange or rearrange your meeting, your childcare or your doctor's appointment. I couldn't give a monkey's bum about your meeting with Mike from accounts or your projected sales figures for Q3. Small furry creatures would take wing from my butt before I could bring myself to raise even a modicum of concern for your apparent need to bang on and on ad infinitum about your latest business trip or what your kids did at the weekend. And if I hear the refrain "I'm on the train" one more time, I might just jump up and down on the spot having a fit of the screaming ab dabs more usually associated with Violet Elizabeth Bott than a middle aged, chronically fatigued middle manager from Kent.The thing that really does me in about this is that particular type of self-satisfied "I'm imporant, I am" air that people often have about them while engaging in this sort of behaviour, especially when set against the raging juxtaposition of the fact that everyone else just wants to ram the sodding phone down their throat.

Proposed response: a direct steal from Trigger Happy TV. Simply take out an oversized mobile phone, have it ring and then answer it, yelling expansively into it in a one sided conversation so (a) banal or (b) thoroughly ridiculous as to leave everyone nearby floored with shock, and the perp simply unable to continue. Mostly I like to maintain a low footprint when on the train, but it would be well worth the ignominy associated with such blatant attention grabbing just to make a bloody point.

The Gaggle
This generally falls into one of two types. Either it's a gaggle of the sort of women who seem only to talk about weddings, engagements, babies and shoes, or it's blokes who talk incessantly about football.Actually no, now I consider it, there's a third type which is possibly even more annoying - young people whose conversation seems to consist only of persistent AQI and liberal sprinklings of "like" in every sentence.

Proposed response: simply ape the conversation in a loud, caracatured imitation of the topics and inflections most commonly employed by your selected victims. There's no need for a partner in this endeavour; I posit that talking loudly to oneself in this situation would be just as effective, without the need for an accomplice.

The Elbow Rest Hogger
Invariably it is blokes who usually feel the need to commandeer the elbow rest. Were I to commission a scientific study of the phenomenomenon, the findings would inevitably lead to a clear inverse relationship between this activity and penis size (and possibly dysfunction). This is closely linked to those people (again, invariably blokes) who feel compelled to sit with their legs akimbo in that well know "here are my genitals, please touch" posture. This is irritating at the best of times, but much worse when it means you find yourself squashed up against some bugger's fat hairy thigh because they refuse to keep their legs together.

Proposed response: I have two ideas for this, depending on whether I am in a protagonistic or defensive stance. Protagonist approach: at the flick of a switch, activate your stealth elbow spike which emerges at speed, spinning at a velocity guaranteed to cause maximum damage to the offending forearm. Defensive approach: engage a perspex barrier that shoots up at the precise equidistant boundary between the seats, thus categorising absolutely your space and theirs and putting an immediate and satisfying end to petty personal space contests.

There is plenty, plenty more where this came from, but I fear I must go do lates before someone calls the police.

Horses and food, food and horses

2011-02-20T18:54:00.001Z

Saturday was a lovely relaxing day, and it's not often I get to say that as you know. Nor is it very often that I get to stay in bed until 10am with a nice cup of tea, or operate a strict policy of avoidance when it comes to the usual Saturday doings involving shopping and the weekly pilgrimage to the local feed merchant. Indeed, even the weekly visit to the local farm shop has been replaced by a home delivery service of the finest local produce. Happy days.

And so it was that Sid and Nik Nak Chunky went off to Waitrose while I tootled around at home, tidying and pimping a suitable percentage of the homestead into a more reasonable state. Even that was quite relaxing when set alongside the fact that there was No Real Need To Go Anywhere. Of course, the weather was shit. Even setting aside the fact that this is England, the weather has been phenomenally shit. Rain, rain, rain, rain. The water table is saturated, the fields are under water and there's persistent cloud and unpleasantness. Argh.

Anyway. Sid had announced his desire to cook and was busy throughout the afternoon making preps while I did the boys. Rode Q, who was on excellent form, although he seems to think that throwing some shapes on the lunge is now an important part of his warm up routine. We went through our lateral work and looked to get a little more bend in the half pass. Very nice effort to the left but couldn't get past the head tilt to the right. Should have either done more warm up or been less crap. Went looking for some more collection and suspension in the trot or alternatively half steps into canter for a nice collected gait. Feeling puckish I did some plie and counter canter, and the most notable thing was that he maintained the counter canter on the right rein, where often he will do a change. Really pleased with the way he worked.

Gave Knickers a lesson on him, during which she did her first sitting trot without stirrups and I enjoyed regaling her with a number of unpleasant analogies to get her to stretch through her body. Meh. Feeling puckish, I decided to give her brief introduction to lateral work on the lunge, asking Q to leg yield on either rein, counting the inside hind for her and getting her to explain what she felt. I was going to demonstrate some shoulder in for her but Q was giving me evils and I decided to leave it there. Really pleased with Nik Nak, she presented quite an elegant picture which was really pleasing. The next thing is to try and get past the bit where the brain kicks in and says "hang on a minute, what the fuck are you doing?" and the balance is lost.

Meanwhile T was feeling very lively and well, putting on a nice passage for Q and generally being full of beans. He looked pretty much 100% aside from the odd moment but then later he wasn't sound again and today he was sound only in walk. So I think it's time for't vitnery.

A friend of ours came round to drop off a sack of feed which she'd borrowed in extremis. Ordinarily this would have been a straightforward task were it not for the fact that the front gate had been locked, I didn't have my phone on me and nobody heard her yelling for attention, so the only thing left to her was to clamber over said gate with a 20Kg sack of feed. Whoops!

The rest of the evening was largely taken up thus:

Food

Home made ravioli of two varieties: walnut & gorgonzola and asparagus, St Agur & bacon, served in a delicate broth

Pan fried duck breast with sauteed potatoes, braised fennel, baked chicory, Japanese mushrooms and a red wine reduction

Pear tarte tatin

I can say Jesus wept, it was a glory to eat. I've never eaten braised fennel before and it set the duck off particularly well. I also must concur with Sid that a pear only tatin is an inferior version; apples do seem to lend a particularly necessary flavour to the proceedings.

Drinks
A nice Amarone

Sounds
Lynard Skynard, the Stones, Rodrigo y Gabriela.

Sunday
Today has been rather less relaxing. I decided that the time had come to sort out the giant mound of wood chips in the middle of the picadeiro. By sort out, I mean transfer to wheelbarrow and distribute about the place then rake it out to a state of relative evenness. Like many other farm jobs, it sounds easy but is in fact hours of back breaking work. The dogs saw fit to gambol and play on and around the pile throughout, pausing only to run around like a mad thing (Willow) or sit and catch a breather on account of being persistently harassed by an exuberant young puppy (Dora).

Broke for lunch, whereupon it was decided that a fry up would be just the thing. As in all things, there are some fundamental religious differences between members of Luso Towers on the matter of fry ups. Sid, for example, is adamant that toast is the way forward and that you can't have a fry up without beans, whereas I am quite happy to have fried tomatoes instead and would rather have fried bread. Sid thinks this is wrong on two fronts: first, that tomatoes should only be eaten "as God intended" and second, that fried bread is the work of Satan. My contention however is that there's nothing like a bit of fried bread under the right circumstances, provided that it is cooked correctly, which few people do. I'd never order it at a greasy spoon, for example, but cooked properly it needn't be a dripping oily mass of rancid cholesterol on a plate. I did wonder if this preference was a result of my working class roots, but Sid's contention was that fry ups generally are inherently working class, and that posh people tend to eat Alpen :)

This afternoon I brought the mares with me into the picadeiro, what with their field being a mud bath. Let it be said that they are just as capable of throwing a wide and impressive array of moves as the boys, and delighted in a spree of bucking, spinning and charging about, or at least as much as letting off steam in a 20x20 space allows. Awesone girlies with their lovely big bellies. Meanwhile I carried on about my toil, occasionally stopping to enjoy the show. Some while later I became dimly aware that something was not quite as it should be, and I realised it was because there was a quality to Q's neigh that I hadn't heard before, so I looked up and bugger me, the girls had let themselves out of the picadeiro and were mooching about the yard! Bastards. So I gathered them up and returned them to the picadeiro, and tied a leadrope around the gate. Ha. The expression on their faces was priceless. The equine version of "what, me?".

And so to the conclusion of another weekend which has once again proven itself not to be nearly long or stretchy enough. To wrap up, another Sid special Chinese noodle soup with duck, pak choi and Chinese mushrooms. Nom.

A middle manager abroad

2011-02-15T21:15:00.000Z

The working week this week began even earlier than usual on account of the requirement to be at Gatwick for a 6.50am flight to Dusseldorf for a two day event in the Netherlands centred around the weighty matter of managed print services and industrial printers. 3:30am is no time to be getting up at the best of times, least of all a Monday morning. The saving graces were twofold: (a) that it was all free, and (b) that it was all laid on with transfers from the airport and so on, requiring only the need to present oneself at Gatwick at the required hour (ungodly). Actually threefold, taking into account the online check in which negated the requirement for an even earlier start.

What a great thing it is, travelling only with hand luggage; a liberating experience marred only by the apparent need to have one's bag searched for cosmetics of the explosive variety and the related requirement to stand behind a young Russian or perhaps Eastern European woman who had also had her bag searched moments earlier and was proceeding to re-pack it with great deliberation and the almost unbelievable lethargy of the young and rebellious, while time ticked by on my honed-to-the-wire schedule. I had to do something to offset my growing agitation, so in a moment of resolute non-Englishness I felt obliged to ask her if she could just hurry it up a bit to allow the security dude to inspect my toothpaste at close quarters and thus facilitate my passage through to the nominally titled departure lounge with just enough time left to snaffle a double espresso and a nice little pastry stuffed with tomatoes and mozzarella before hastening to the gate. I don't know why it is; one of the finest traditions of air travel (certainly my air travel anyway) always seems to involve that last minute rush for the gate. At least it wasn't the sort of outright, sweaty, wine-and Iberian tack-laden gallop that characterised a lot of the trips Posh Bird and I did to Portugal, back in the day.

Safely ensconced on the plane and situated right at the back after the fashion of two sacks of ballast (or what is known in the trade as "trim"), my colleague and I proceeded without further ado to blast through the European airspace in a pressurised metal tube, concerned only with the size of our craft (small) and its method of propulsion (propellors). This was not entirely unwarranted given the way the sodding thing fishtailed alarmingly upon landing and thus giving us the sensation of rapidly approaching death.

Transfer by coach across Germany to the Netherlands ensued to deposit us at the hotel, giving us pause only to reflect upon (a) the phenomenal, psychedelic nature of the carpeting, and (b) the fact that such an early start was not great preparation for a busy couple of days at a business event, before we were whisked off to the company's offices in Venlo to be greeted by a large room full of giant balls, a stage and a sound system playing, rather incongruously I felt, Prodigy tunes while a gaggle of the sort of people found only in Higher Education milled about drinking crap Dutch coffee and catching up about the state of the sector. Hmmm.

In amongst demos and discussions on managed print services and related topics there followed a rather unexpected slot during which two guys presented their interpretation of a company acquisition through the medium of juggling (random, I know, but they were in fact very good). I started to become a bit twitchy, sitting there near the front on my big orange ball, when they started calling for volunteers while 30 odd people looked on. First they picked a red-faced irascible Scot, and then they picked me. WHY. And why do they call it volunteering when you clearly have no real option but to submit to whatever foul thing they want to use you for? Of all the things that might have happened to me on a business trip to the Netherlands, the thing I really didn't see coming was the requirement to stand in front of the assembled throng, holding hands with a sweaty Scot while two madmen juggled a set of skittles back and forth to one another and made us take a step forward right into the middle of it all as they juggled said skittles in front of and behind us, so closely that the skittles were moving my hair as they whooshed past, millimetres from my nose. You just couldn't make it up could you.

On the plus side, the food was good. I wondered if we were to sample some typical Dutch fare, so as we queued for our rations and I spotted a large pan frying equally large quantities of mushrooms that were being added to little trays of salad and dressing, I said to the guy serving, "ooh, what's this?" thinking, you know, that it might be some Dutch thing he'd be pleased to enlighten me about. He gave me the sort of level look usually reserved for complete fuckwits or the very young, and replied, simply yet crushingly, "mushrooms".

Setting aside the rancid carpets, the hotel was quite splendid. There was the extra-thrust jacuzzi, the soft mattress and the extra-fluffy pillows, and the white robe that might have been fluffy had someone remembered to add some fabric softener to the water when it was last washed, but the experience was only moderately marred by the fact that its texture had more in common with sandpaper than towelling. The evening meal was of an Oriental bent, with sake and sushi to start - my first experience of sushi, Luddite that I am, which was surprisingly lovely - and an array of rice and noodle creations all washed down with a decent Tuscan red and the inevitable conversations about how everyone's IT is organised, whose gone with AD, who has cross-platform environments and so on.

Much the same today, except I learned from previous errors and refused to allow myself to be volunteered for anything else, even if it was just setting off a print run, and certainly did not ask any Dutch people about their food. I drank industrial quantities of crap Dutch coffee and the sort of tea you only ever find in Europe, ate for practically an hour at lunch time and managed to avoid holding hands with any sweaty Scots. The couple of hours left at Dusseldorf airport passed in a blur of peering drowsily into a procession of shop windows purveying goods of no real interest, and drinking the world's worst cup of cappucino. At least the flight back was uneventful, notwithstanding the now expected toothpaste-related interrogation before being allowed on my way, bearing a giant slab of Kinder, a big bar of chocolate with hazelnuts, a nice bottle of Limoncello and - a set of juggling balls.

Emotional ups and downs

2011-02-12T19:05:00.000Z

The thing about creatures is that it's all very well when they're healthy and happy, and not so much when there's something wrong. The law of averages (or perhaps some other law) states that the more creatures you have, the more likely something is wrong with one or more of them at any one time. T has been lame for a couple of weeks now, footy if anything. Robin the farrier popped in with his hoof testers and found nothing to indicate anything like laminitis, which is good, but general reactivity in his soles. This weekend though he seems much better so I'll try him again tomorrow and see how he is after a little light work today. Tessa is coming next week to check him over. So a tentative relief there.

The other thing that's been worrying me silly is that Slim Jim started walking very strangely and lying down a lot. No obvious signs of pain but it became increasingly clear that something wasn't quite right and he was almost plaiting his back legs as he walked. Note to self: looking symptoms online is not a good idea. I took him to the vet on Wednesday evening, who diagnosed some sort of spinal trauma affecting his nervous system. This was most likely to be either Willow being rough with him or a recent incident in which one of the dining chairs in the meehoo room crashed to the floor and Jim galloping into the kitchen looking very perturbed. The good thing was that he still had sensation in his feet and reasonable proprioception, though not much at all in his tail.

The treatment is rest and an anti-inflammatory, so I brought back home a big crate for him to stay in, and he had an NSAID injection. Took him back next day but I could already see an improvement, so was quietly hopeful. The vet concurred so it was decided not to proceed with x-rays and continue the treatment. I think my prayers to the universe have been acknowledged as he has continued to improve since then and is being a model patient as far as the crate is concerned. Fingers continue to be crossed, nevertheless.

Meanwhile, today was a better day. For one thing, it was a nice mild and sunny day. Knickers and I went to our local chicken emporium to acquire some more birds, only to find that they didn't have any. However, all is not lost as a new batch are due in next week and we have our names down for some of them. Excellent.

As mentioned, T seemed to be quite level so that cheered me up no end, and it was a nice afternoon to work Mr Q afterwards. It was one of those days when the sun is shining and everyone is on good form, and we had a blast. Q really is one of the foremost stallions of our time when in that sort of mood and we had an excellent ride, the sort which is accompanied by a massive grin and frequent whoops of delight. Bless him - just what the doctor might have ordered, had I made an appointment and explained about my creature-related concerns throughout the working week.

Also, we did our first goat maintenance session, featuring Angie as victim. Definitely a two person job at this stage but really pleased - we trimmed her feet and made some progress with her allowing us to get near her udder - not before she reared up and broke a lead rope though :O. The importance of finishing on a good note foremost in our minds, we left it with her allowing us to touch her belly without her reacting and finished there, as the last thing that's needed is for her to think that general bucking and plunging results in us backing off. I don't think she's accustomed to having her feet done but was very good, all told. We'll tackle Gwen and Gerry tomorrow.

Meanwhile work is in progress to accustom the mares to allowing us to touch their under-bellies in preparation for parturition-related udder cleaning. Oh God - it's drawing closer :wibble:. Knickers has been making good progress with Alfama and they are much more amenable as we go along. Good stuff.

Finally, we took the dogs for a walk and Willow is turning out to be something of a crowd pleaser. She met Other Dogs today and charmed the pants off everyone who came across her, which was nice.

Leavetakings

2011-02-06T20:49:00.000Z

On Friday evening we all said goodbye to our inestimable colleague Dave, helping him celebrate the conclusion of a particularly lengthy stretch at Goldies of some 19 years. A splendid gathering, marked as such by a great crowd including a generous sprinkling of previous escapees (all of whom seem to look rather smoother and rosier of cheek than they were when they occupied a nearby office) as well as current incumbents, heart-warming servings of bonhomie and the liberal application of Guinness. A fab night and an emotional farewell - take care Dave and do keep in touch! We'll miss you.

Up early on Saturday to get the yard done before going off to the local goat sanctuary for a husbandry course - ir at least, I had it in my head that it was Saturday, but in fact it turned out to be Sunday. This small but significant fact would have completely passed me by had I not enquired of Sid if he was also coming, when he pointed out "but Rach, it's tomorrow". Ah. Right. So instead I did what any right thinking person would do and went shopping.

General levels of tiredness and a very high wind inclined me towards a lunge session with Q, who was surprisingly calm and obliging of a good, productive session. Was then forced to beat a path indoors and enjoy a lazy couple of hours watching a film. Bliss. A quick in hand session with T showed that he was not lame but still not right :( Tessa's coming on the 18th, which seems an eon away. Will draft in Robin the farrier asap.

So today dawns and again I have to get up early. Bugrit. Knickers and I went off to the goat sanctuary for our husbandry course, which involved everything you ever wanted to know about goats from feeding to foot trimming, drenching, common ailments etc etc. It was an excellent course marred only by cold and windy conditions.

Had to dash back for a lesson with Mandy on Q and then back indoors to cook and collapse.

And so endeth the weekend. Pffft.

Random observations

2011-02-02T20:52:00.000Z

There is a time and a place to be in close proximity to a lively and mischief-prone puppy, but not while undertaking sysadmin duties.

There is a significant amusement quotient to be had in the following activities:
- witnessing the testing of a streaming feed from one room to another and watching a colleague mumbling to themselves in the other room while the mic is on
- undertaking an emergency cab run to the feed merchant, emerging with a large sack of goat mix and paying particular attention to the expression on the cab driver's face (with thanks to Knickers for this entry)
- watching a large and quite remarkably stupid dog repeatedly trying to curl up in a bed that is much too small

There are pros and cons to living in a mad house; mostly pros.

Beans: there's a lot to be said for them.

You might think that stone tiles are a suitable flooring arrangement when there's a young puppy about the place. The downside is that any bladder-related issuings cause little rivulets of urine to develop around the kitchen, which are a bugger to mop up.

Why is it that stallions have to have a breathing contest every single day?

The average French person is capable of consuming more cheese and saucisson in a day than most normal people would in a month.

Bugrit

2011-01-30T17:21:00.000Z

:sigh: T is still not right, after all. We had a very light in hand assessment session yesterday and he seemed ok, though not precisely 100%. I thought he would be ok for a very gentle physio type session with Mandy, so it was with much anticipation that I took my time prepping him, even going so far as to brush his mane and apply bandages, lest a small amount of support would be called for. He didn't step away from the saddle like he did last week, or otherwise make any point at all: happy days, I thought, here we go. Started our warmup on the right rein and to begin with he looked rather leaden in front, but not unlevel, just as though he was sruggling to get himself off the forehand, which is unusual for him. However, with the application of free walk and jig jogg transitions going large, he loosened off and was producing his usual lovely bendy stretchy work and even offered canter. Happy days, I thought. Left rein: different story. A little tense to begin with and in trot, unlevel :( I've put a call in to Tessa so hopefully she can get over to us asap. Not being able to ride him has made me realise just how much I do want to ride him. Fingers crossed it is something minor that can be easily fixed. He was pretty much ok earlier in the week so I am forced to conclude that rest is needed and to leave him alone to do that.

The upshot of all this is that I had a lesson on Q each day this weekend. Yesterday he was excellent; warmed up well even offering to use his abs (!) and coming willingly to the party knowing full well that energy and stretching would be the order of the day, so I was very hopeful for a good lesson. It was a good seat day too so it felt pretty nice. Mandy is getting after me about my legs, trying to address the fact that they creep forward when I'm not looking. The focus was to get the neck and poll out a bit further and maintain that through a series of transitions within and between the pace, using straightness to encourage throughness over the back and right through the poll. This is where Q's ability to samba his way around my exhortations to get him straight really come to light, whether it's a small but significant poll tilt, haunches in, throwing a shoulder, whatever. Twas ever thus. The focus for me was stretching the leg and using it to lift him up to a collected trot and hug him there, encouraging the use of his back. The challenge was to get the desired improvement in both legs at the same time. Releasing forward, all the time keeping in mind the relation between length of rein and energy required to maintain the contact and not let him plop onto the forehand.

He was a little nonplussed to be dragged at speed from his field and tacked up at a hitherto unknown velocity today, when it became clear that T was not able to take part in the lesson. Perhaps as a consequence, the expression on the back of his head was priceless when I cmabered on, seconds later. "Oooh, mares!" "Oooh, a rustle of wind through the top door of my stable!" "Oooh, the unexpected bleat of a goat!", anything to find for a little spookette. Our remedy for this is lateral work so we went through LY, SI, HI, HP with Mandy offering adjustments and comments, then to an exercise whose name I forget but which involved going from A to B or C to E in a straight line, the exercise being to focus on straightness. He was quite slippery today, and less willing to be through, so we had minor braces of the brachio as well as his usual bum in, shoulder out, tilt the poll doings, so it was quite the challenge to get him straight. Rather than making a series of corrections I was to ride him forward with more energy and that was much more effective. Repeated the exercise in trot and finding it quite hard to get the connection and the straightness, but very clear when it happened. Final exercise in canter was to set off in our most comfortable gait and look to send the poll out a few cm more while maintaining activity. This produced a very nice feel on the left rein and someething that oscillated between ok and ack on the right, always his more difficult side. Thinking the slightest counterbend without changing the aiding and being much more conscious of the conenction through my left side was what did the trick and produced something much more balanced. Finished there.

Otherwise, out with the dogs for a tramp around the field, which was nice. Now to get the girls in and feed round, and find a recipe for salmon en croute.

A day of two halves

2011-01-22T18:08:00.000Z

Well what a great day. Firstly I feel much more energetic as a result of the new routine, which is splendid.

Knickers and I had what might be described as a "girly" morning which neither of us are particularly accustomed to, tootling off to the hairdressers in the morning for the ceremonial chopping of locks, followed by a trip to Tenterden for shopping and lunch. Marvellous.

This afternoon was horsey time and I was determined to make the most of it. Q was quite lively and in view of the fact that he wasn't ridden since last Sunday I gave him a quick lunge first before riding. We began with lateral work; shoulder in, travers and half pass on both reins; up to trot, active and focusing on straightness, then repeating the laterals in trot. He was feeling really nice. I had a mind to begin preps for changes again as we haven't done this for a while, so put in lots of walk-canter transitions and he was offering a very nice collected gait, which was just divine to sit. Canter-walk began with several trot strides between but we whittled it down to something more approaching a direct transition. On the left rein walk-right canter was a bit more tricky as always but we got it and I capitalised on the fact that he's not so keen on this to get the change. Very pleased with that. We got three changes altogether, only one of which I asked for :) Anyway he was ace, it was a really really good ride.

Next, Mr T, who also hasn't been worked since last week. Ordinarily I'd work him in hand on a Saturday but feeling puckish, I was determined to ride. We had a nice warm up and all seemed calm and lovely. The mares were loitering by the gate and Q, like a big Luso book end, loitering at the other end of the school. T was frowning at the girls and tried to bite me as we went down to their end to remove the cavesson and get my hat, so he got a wallop for that and we carried on regardless. On board, we did shoulder in and milling on a large circle, before going up to trot. We're developin his abiltiy to stretch to the contact and he's getting better, so I was very pleased that he maintained the contact to a greater extent through some transitions. Repeated on the right rein and again very soft and nice, with only occasional forays above the contact. Had to finish there as it was practically dark.

Cookathon tonight: monkfish tagine, French onion soup and cauliflower gratin, constituting my cooking for the week all in one go.

Tomorrow: horsey doings in the morning, including a lesson with Mandy, and a visit to a local establishment to see a clinic in the afternoon, that I'd like to take one of the boys to next time.

Giant catch up

2011-01-16T20:55:00.000Z

So again, I blink and two weeks have gone by, dammit. On the plus side we've managed not to acquire any more creatures, which is good. Also, Willow is now officially Dora's mini-me, now that Dora's got used to the idea of sharing us with another pooch and we have accustomed ourselves to the fact that a great deal of alarming-sounding growling, ear biting and grunting is completely normal. It's very sweet :)

Horse-wise things have been proceeding well with good lessons on both boys, although we're all looking forward to longer daylight hours. Even an hour at the end of the day helps take the pressure off. Speaking of pressure, we're developing more of an organised routine for all the daily doings, as I really was completely and utterly tatered at the arse end of last year and realised that something needs to give. I am therefore officially having a lie in every Saturday, which is bloody marvellous. Not only that but I am thoroughly reconciled with it, which means that I can enjoy it and work around it and absolutely not concern myself with all the things I should be doing, which is one of my bêtes noir. So that's good isn't it.

Speaking of horses and that whole juggling thing, I had a very weird dream on Friday night. I was riding Totilas, probably the most famous dressage stallion of the moment, in the car park at Goldies outside the main building.This would be strange enough on its own, but there was also a horse transporter in the same car park, loading a mare. I remember very clearly thinking that if I rode him near to the mare, it would add expression to his piaffe (it did). The guy loading the mare wanted to borrow my lunge surcingle so that he could attach some padding to the mare's chest (?) but I was reluctant to lend it to him because then I wouldn't be able to lunge Toto before I rode him and it would interfere with our training (!). Next thing, a work colleague from HR appeared at the far end of the car park and called me over, so Toto and I did a very creditable extended trot (I know, I know) over to her. Next thing, as is the way in dreams, I was walking down the corridor with her talking about saddles and was getting anxious because I'd left Toto just standing there in the car park, and there was the mare there. It was about then that I woke up. This is what my brain comes up with in response to the mulling I've been doing concerning how I might get the boys out and about while juggling all the other balls I have to juggle.

Today Knickers and I went to Bluewater, our local shopping mall. This is something we try to avoid where possible, but every now and again it has to be done. One of the main challenges for such an endeavour is trying to find suitable civilian clothing that is not encrusted with mud and/or horse shit, and believe me this can be a challenge of epic proportions unless specifically planned for. There are work clothes and yard clothes, and between the two there exists a gaping chasm occupied only by a single pair of jeans (for best) and a jacket that stays resolutely in the porch with the work gear, well away from the array of other jackets and fleeces, all of which are covered in mud and/or horse shit, and therefore unsuitable to be worn in the company of regular folks who don't understand these things. The reaction one gets, should one wear such items in such a setting, reminds me of the reaction I used to get back in the day when as a student I would deliberately court such by virtue of shocking pink or purple hair. That is to say, small children pointing and staring, and old people muttering about how there's just no respect for common decency these days.

I had an opticians' appointment first thing, which I wasn't looking forward to as I knew where it was going to lead, sure as eggs is eggs. I kept saying to Knickers, what if they tell me my eyes are no good and they'll have to remove them, until she threatened to cut out the middle man and do it for me with a rusty spoon :) So the upshot is I now have my first pair of glasses. Mmmph. Middle age beckons. What next? Things will begin to sag and fall off and soon I won't be able to remember my own name, or what it was that I went upstairs for.

And finally, Knickers has discovered a new dessert: "panna concrete".

The Wrong Puppy

2011-01-01T10:02:00.000Z

The last day or so has been a rollercoaster of excitement, expenditure, fatigue and a sprinkling of emotions along the lines of "wtf have we done?" You may recall I mentioned in a blog from a few weeks back that I'd sent Sid and Knickers out to get a new chain for the chain saw and they'd ended up at Pheel's, who has the tools to make his own chains (:hail: Pheel) in his handsomely stocked workshop. What I didn't know (or I'd never have sent them round there) is that there were a litter of newborn Lab x Springer pups in close proximity to said workshop, and the unwitting, ripe for the plucking duo were cordially invited in to see them. Much cooing ensued and frankly, by the time they got home, the deed was done and we were going to have a puppy whether I liked it or not. My only recourse in such a situation was to sigh gustily and make sure everyone knew that I personally have more than enough to do as it is and will not be taking an active role in puppy husbandry. Uh-huh. Right then.

Fast forward a few weeks and we all troop round to Pheel's to choose a puppy. I leave this to Sid, of course, mainly because it's his puppy (let's be clear) and also because he has a very good track record in choosing animals - or recognising when animals have chosen us. The puppies are glorious little chocolately sausages of loveliness; unbearably, unfeasibly cute. We all die a little of cute overload and, little girl puppy chosen, troop out again, pausing only to consider why one man, even one such as Pheel, would need two arc welders, to visit the cold room full of geese and turkeys, and to make off with a brace of pheasants.

Fast forward a few more weeks and Sid is becoming unbearable - that is to say, more unbearable than the simple expedient of being French can explain away - wanting to collect his puppy. We arrange with Pheel to go round on the appropriate day (now a couple of days back) at the appropriate hour (6pm) to collect her. Puppies are now the cutest, chocolatiest, chunky little buggers imaginable. We are handed our puppy, exchange the relevant formalities and make off to the homestead, Sid cradling his little one in his arms and me driving as though the car is made of bone china.

Much cuteness was had throughout the evening although, rather disturbingly, we couldn't help but notice the complete and utter absence of any of the normal signs that the puppy is about to "eliminate". Ha! Such euphemisms. Sid made the mistake of leaving the puppy unattended in the lounge for a couple of moments, whereupon there followed the rapid fire application of several wees (one on the sofa) and, rather incredibly I thought, three little puppy poos upon the carpet. Unfortunately for Sid he only noticed one of them when he stood in it, **in his socks**. I then had to rescue a hysterical Frenchman while attempting to contain fits of uproarious mirth, by removing the offending sock from his outraged foot and running quickly from the room with it to the bin, after the fashion of Inspector Closeau with a bermb. It's ok, we shrugged, surely the puppy will soon show some signs to give us a clue as to what will be imminently unleashed. It's just the settling in period.

Bed time arrives and we troop up and down the stairs, bearing an array of puppy beds, water bowls, puppy pads and other small hound paraphernalia. Puppy's opening gambit is to poo on the bed. We quickly opt for caution being the better part of valour and go fetch one of the large cat boxes, hitherto used by the meehoos for curling up next to the radiator. Puppy spends the night in the cat box, on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. We are awoken several times during the night by general whining, howling and the application of faecal aromas to the sensitive linings of our nasal passages. Sid takes to sleeping with his head at the foot of the bed, with a hand hooked into the cat box which is by now taking on the status of a Pandora's box of cuteness, perfectly juxtaposed with the noises and aromas of Satan's puppy.

The alarm blares its way into my consciousness a mere 5 minutes after I've closed my eyes and I proceed from the bed, bog eyed, bleary and assailed by rancid odours. All of my concerns and fears about having a puppy have been not so much realised as comprehensively whoopsied under my nose. What are we to do? Arrgghh. Still, vitnery coming shortly to do T's vaccinations so I'll ask her why said puppy is not giving any signs of immediate elimination. "Ah", she said patiently, looking upon me as one might a poor unfortunate fuckwit with a peanut for a brain, "the trouble is, they don't all read the text books." Kthx, very helpful I'm sure. Thanks vitnery.

The day proceeds (the day being the 30th) and as it does so Sid and I do a good job of convincing ourselves that the cuteness factor just about outweighs the random pissing and shitting marathon that is taking place. During one of a number of such instances, I remark to Sid that puppy's undercarriage looks suspiciously like a boy's to me, and surely that there is a very small pair of bollocks in the making, and isn't that a willy? All I really got was mirth in response - this is because I have never been allowed to forget wrongly sexing one of the kittens who turned out to be more Slim Jim and less Trim Trudy. So my track record wasn't really outstanding and to tell the truth I was a bit embarrassed to call Pheel and say look, are you sure this is a girl? However, it was when I saw (and felt, all over my hand) wee emerge from the suspiciously willy-like appendage beneath the belly that everything fell into place. I text Pheel "are you sure this is the right puppy?"

Ten minutes later, Pheel appears at the window. Upon entry into the house it transpires that he has a puppy under his arm and a very apologetic expression on his face. It turns out that there's been an almighty cock up and he has our actual puppy under said arm, while the one we've been nurturing and cleaning up after is actually destined to go with his brother to be a working dog for a farmer in Ashford! Much jollity ensues and Pheel leaves us to it it, taking Winky (as we have agreed to call him) back home with him and leaving us with the real Willow. Sid and I look at one another and consider the night we've just been through, and the very real possibility that another very similar scenario is awaiting us now that we are staring down the barrel of Having To Start All Over Again. We resolve that this time, she's definitely staying downstairs in the meehoo room.

After a couple of hours of being utterly bowled over by the megawatt cute factor of the real Willow, we nevertheless find ourselves trooping upstairs with an array of puppy paraphernalia, and settling little Willow on her bed on top of the ottoman at the foot of our bed. We can't help but notice small but appreciable differences - she doesn't shit on the bed, for one thing, or whine insistently. There follow a few moments where eye contact is not made in order to discourage further interaction and miracle of miracles, she settles down in her bed! And goes to sleep! In very short order we too are asleep, and bugger me if we don't all sleep through the night and wake, a little more refreshed next morning, noting the tiny but telltale lack of pungent aromas, bleeding eyes or melting mucous membranes. Now that's rather better. We begin to feel quite self-congratulatory. Jubilant, even. Positively cock-a-hoop! Not only that but she very definitely does show signs of needing the loo and we've already made quite startling progress in terms of the number of number twos undertaken outside and the generally smoother running of things indoors. The cats are wary but she will stay in the meehoo room without whining, and is quite definitely another ramp up on the cuteness scale: now we have our puppy.

So to recap: we now have 4 horses, 3 goats, 5 cats, six chickens and TWO DOGS. That's 20 creatures.

Brighter outlook

2010-12-28T17:43:00.000Z

The last few days have been pretty tough for me, feeling as though I had finally hit that brick wall of supreme knackeredness and not quite knowing what to do with myself as a result. With Knickers away for a whole two weeks and Sid needing to catch up on some rest after pulling many 16 hour days for a project, I was pretty much left to my own devices caring for everyone and was really starting to feel it, with the added piquancy of ice and frozen taps as the cherry on the top of the muck heap. I knew something had to give when I found myself sitting on the yard blubbing with fatigue and not knowing where I was going to find the energy to get up again, yet knowing I had to or risk a very serious case of piles, apart from anything else.

Sid bless him has been a godsend the last couple of days and helped me do the yard. The timing was particularly apt as we had to close the boys in overnight due to ice-related treachery in the fields and my god can they shit for England! T will make one large stallion pile which is easy to deal with, but Q seems intent on crapping everywhere and it takes an age to muck out. So the help has been awesome and we've been getting everything done in record time, which has been splendid. It also coincided with sufficient thawing to allow me to get the boys out through the yard this morning to give them a workout.

Q first, and as always he was a complete gas. He's SUCH a bloke. After such a lengthy period doing nothing but hunching over a pile of hay in the field or stable, of course even a pipe and slippers man like him felt the pressing need for movement, and immediately set out in a nice forward ground-covering trot. Had there been a sound track, it would have James Brown, "I Feel Good". It's difficult to convey the glory I feel in sharing that joie de vivre as he ramps it up albeit in remarkably controlled fashion for one who has not had a good surface to play on for some two week. The girls were out in the picadeiro as their field was largely still an ice rink, so naturally he had to keep checking them out to see if they were watching. If it was a book title, it would have been The Joy of Movement.

T next, and the goats dutifully scattered as we came in, even Angie who was fastened to his haynet with the determination only a hungry goat can have. Same thing with him, real pleasure to be moving again and straight out into a nice big trot. Q did what he always does in such a situation, which is to say running up to the fence trying to incite violence while T puts on the most glorious floaty trot EVER. This incites Q still further, who charges up and down not knowing quite what to do with himself, while T floats along on a cushion of air, all hair and legs and drop dead Luso loveliness. Q stands for a moment or two before taking to his heels and galloping off down the field with his tail in the air, only to reappear a few moments later to have another pop. I love this, the posturing and displaying and the fact that they both really do seem to enjoy it. It's such a privilege to watch it. Minutes later, Dora appeared around the corner, an act which T wouldn't normally turn a hair at but on this occasion used to launch himself into a feel-good spooking and bucking frenzy that was awesome to watch. He was quite pumped up on the way back in, snorting and prancing, but settling at a quiet word. How I love these awesome boys. Someone once said that stallions wear their hearts on their sleeves (it may have been Lucy Rees), and they really do. They are so vibrant and alive, it is truly awesome.

We've been trying to work up the enthusiasm to go to Bluewater for the past couple of days. Maybe tomorrow will be the day. Luckily tiredness and general ennui in that regard have shielded us from newsworthy record crowds, which was nice. Record crowds are not somewhere I really want to be.

Nip Nips and beyond

2010-12-26T12:55:00.000Z

For the first time since I can remember it's been just me and Sid for Christmas. Or more correctly, Sid and I. Absolute bliss. No in laws to entertain, nobody else's agenda to pursue but our own, nobody's whims to accommodate but those of myself, one French person (much easier to deal with in the singular than in packs) and those of the 5000 creatures we share our lives with. The fact that I am attending to 4 horses, 3 goats, 6 chickens, a dog and 5 cats on my jack has meant that there's been ample opportunity to streamline the daily doings, all in pursuit of the pressing requirement to sit on my arse. Speaking of arses, it also means that I can now reliably discuss what it feels like to have a chicken peck you on the arse while you're skipping out a stable. The answer, lest anyone be concerned for the wellbeing of said arse, is that it's not as painful as one might anticipate, although the coldness of the weather and resulting gluteal numbness should be taken into account. Were one to submit this to the rigours of a mathematical formula to determine the exact pain level, there would be a definite requirement to include a numbness quotient based on ambient external temperature, gluteal surface area and layers and thickness of clothing. For the sake of accuracy one might also need to consider the type of peck involved. An investigative peck for example brings to bear rather less force (where F=MA) than would a determined peck of the sort that would occur were one for some reason to find oneself wearing pants made of the finest corn, although I'm not convinced that we need to concern ourselves at this stage with these rather less likely events and would do better to concentrate on more regular clothing such as breeches or jeans.

In the French tradition we had our main meal on Christmas Eve, and it was probably the best meal I've ever eaten. It was also a complete treat not to have to lift a finger and be served with a startling array of gorgeous grub. I can see that there's going to be a lot more home made pasta in our immediate future! Clearly it was a Good Day for cooking and Sid bless him cooked out of his skin to produce such a glory of fine food. We don't really do presents any more but concentrate instead on enjoying good food and being here at the farm, which is essentially a lifetime's worth of Christmases and birthdays all rolled into one.

We had friends round on Christmas night which made for another epic and a 2:30am close. Blast my eyes, all I can think about is having to get up early to do breakfasts when I get past a certain point. Notwithstanding that it was a really good night and has given me some food for thought about some changes that I need to make for the next stage in my life.

Because the fields are frozen solid and icy in places we kept the boys in last night, and this morning my plan was to place a line of electric rope across just outside the stable to give them access to outside but not the whole field. So I dutifully got out the fencing kit and fiddled around putting the line across Q's fence, and tied plastic bags on it to make more of a visible barrier. Ha! Let Q out and he went charging out at full pelt, striaght through the fence as though it wasn't there. Arses. Luckily he didn't do himself a mischief and it kind of reaffirmed my thoughts that it's probably safer to leave them free access so they come and go calmly, than keeping them in. Can't wait for the thaw though and I've put down some old hay and poo on his regular path to give a bit more traction.

In spite of this I felt it was worth trying with T, so off I went with the fencing kit and fiddled around putting the line across T's fence, and tied plastic bags on it to make more of a visible barrier. This time I led T out and let him have a sniff before taking off his headcollar, at which he ducked his head and walked straight under the line as though it wasn't there. *sigh*

So they're out with a big pile of haylage, and the girls are in the picadeiro, where Q can keep an eye on them.

Meanwhile my plans to get up to see my folks have fallen by the wayside because the ovlov's head gasket hasn't been fixed and it is locked in the garage for the duration. Sid is thrilled because it doesn't mean he has to stay home and minister to 4 horses, 3 goats, 6 chickens, a dog and 5 cats all by himself.

Still no riding. The yard is an ice rink, but I'm hopeful for Tuesday when we are expecting temperatures of around 10 degrees - a veritable heatwave!

Taking it easy

2010-12-21T12:28:00.000Z

Well after a fashion, with snow on the ground for the nth day running, Knickers away and many creatures to tend to. I'm re-schooling them all to accept a later than usual breakfast time by getting up 15 mins later every day. Am now on 6:10am from 5:20, aiming for the environs of 7am. Today is technically Day 5 of my hols but only now am I starting to slow down a bit.

Yesterday I seemed to be at it ALL DAY. Why does that happen I wonder. Took ages to get both cars started in order to get the ovlov to the garage. Sid had to go in to work to collect his laptop, so once I got back from dropping him off I set about yard duties. OK so having everyone out in snowy fields with frozen troughs there is the ongoing requirement to minister to their needs for water and forage, which takes some time. The boys come and go as they please, and continue to do so now that we've flattened the bad bits outside the back of their stables (in a blizzard), but the girls need to be taken out and so do the goats. And it's not really necessary to put the beds up every day either. Technically I suppose it's not essential to take the boys' rugs off for a bit so they can roll and prance in the snow either. But this doesn't really explain how I can spend the best part of the day arsing around out there.

Dan next door had a mains water leak which necessitated turning off our stop cock. Presumably because our houses used to be one, we have their stop cock in our house, so if we turn it off then nobody has any water. Meanwhile Robin the farrier was due, and texted to say he was running early. Early! What sort of horse professional arrives early for anything? I remonstrated with him but he was unrepentant, muttering something about refits. The boys were done first and I don't know why but I always feel a thrill of undeserved pride when Robin talks about how perfect Q's feet are, as it were anything to do with me. But they are perfect. Maybe I'll get some photos so you can see just how beautiful they are. And clean, in this weather, which is one of the few nice things about the snow|horse interface. Anyway - the girls were done next and behaved impeccably. Much less anxious. Again, pride, as though any of it were really anything to do with me instead of that amazing Luso temperament. OK we introduced them gradually but it's hardly rocket science.

Meanwhile Sid was trying to get home from London. The same old story that was repeated up and down the land - no trains, and very little information as to when one might be expected. Eventually he managed to get home about 4ish, making an 8 hour round trip for an hour and a half in the office and the collection of one laptop. I left him making a fire and finished off the yard, bringing the girls in, the goats, herding the chickens in, doing dinners etc etc practically dead on my feet by this stage and wondering how on earth I was going to summon the energy to hump 50 bales of hay shortly, when Pheel was due round with the Christmas consignment of hay. In the end we agreed that he'd send it round this morning instead, which was nice as I was completely and utterly battered by this stage and really, really needing to sit on my arse for a while.

So today I decided to take a different approach.Up at 6, as mentioned, and why not just get everything done first thing. Girls out, hayed round, mucked out x4 + goats, goats out etc etc, in quite short order. Hay arrived at 8:30, made the boys a cup of tea and the hay barn was stuffed to the brim by the time I went back out there. Timed that well :) So now all that remains today is to do waters and feeds and bring the girls in later, which leaves me several hours stretching ahead during which I can actually relax. But doing what? It seems I've forgotten how to sit about taking it easy and I keep thinking of all the things I could and should be doing. So I thought I know, I'll make a list. It's a useful thing to do but one which I can do from the comfort and warmth of indoors. So here's my list of the things I'd like to do over the holidays:

* clean out the feed room
* clean out the rug room
* clean out the grooming room
* tidy the bedroom DONE
* finish Christmas shopping
* arrange hay delivery DONE
* arrange for muck clamp emptying
* arrange for snow melt so I can ride
* milk Angie :wibble:

If I get all of this done I shall be (a) pleased and (b) knackered.

Arse, meet sofa; it's been a while

2010-12-12T19:09:00.002Z

Can we just take it as read now that every weekend is as busy as a really, really busy thing? Cos I've given up trying to convey just how busy it is. Ah good.

The power of persuasion
So I get to about 3.30pm on Friday and then it hits me, like the proverbial sack of excrement. I forgot to phone for Sid's prescription, that he'd specifically asked me to do and reminded me about only that morning. Arrghhh fuckety doodads. Prescription line closed, only one thing for it: call up the surgery and PLEAD. The result has to be some sort of record: from request to filled prescription in about 2.5 hours. This is what can happen when (a) you are very very very nice to people, and (b) the planets are favourably aligned.

Friday night: when Knickers and I returned home there was a chicken in Q's manger, which I only discovered when I was about to dump several sections of hay on her head. There were two in T's stable and the rest out the back. Took us about an hour and a half to do evening stables and attend to everyone, at which point the only thing to do was to retire indoors and bolt the door. Otherwise, fast food: check; Kopparberg cider: check Shitty film: check.Oh, and a message to say that students had reoccupied the Library.

Saturday
Knickers did earlies for me but I was up about 7:30 anyway. Why? you might reasonably enquire. Well, because there are only so many hours in the day and very few of those are conducted in daylight atm. Needs must and all that. Nevertheless I was feeling particularly battered and it somehow took me about an hour and a half to put up four beds, do waters and hay, and oversee the goats doing their thing about the yard. We've taken to letting the chickens out during the day (it's either that or they let themselves out anyway so we might as well maintain some vestige of an idea that it's us running the show).

Did the rounds of farm shop, feed merchants etc and that took me an hour and a half too. Quick restorative bacon butty and coffee (more a 15 minute affair) then back out there to work the boys. Lacking energy of any description I worked them both in hand, which is no bad thing after three weeks off. Both boys were full of the joys of, er, deepest winter and treated me to some very Big Trots indeed; T going for the power extension (jaw dropping) and Q for the passage, albeit one using no postural muscles whatsoever and his tail up over his bum like an Arabian, but a joy to behold. So nice to see them strutting their stuff and enjoying being horses.

It seemed to take ages to get everyone sorted in the evening, but this was because I was starting to feel rather overwrought with tiredness. Luckily Sid was cooking so I was able to take myself off for a nice hot bath clutching a mince pie and a glass of Baileys. Bliss.

The meal was fab, and turned into a bit of a celebration for Knickers having recently got two firsts and a 2-1 in her courseworks and Sid for having broken the back of a particularly testy piece of code. So we had chicken and asparagus soup to start, pheasant au vin (courtesy of Pheel) which was my first time eating pheasant - very nice - and sticky toffee pudding made by Knickers, all washed down with a very nice Amarone. Sid broke open the home made sloe gin and all I can say is Jesus Christ! To be handled with the greatest care.

Late night ensued.

Sunday
Knickers did earlies again and I was up about 8 to prep for morning lesson with Mandy. Somehow managed to be prepped and in the arena for 9:20, which was a bit previous since the lesson wasn't until 10, but still it made for a nice slow and considered warmup, no bad thing for T and his sticky stifle. At one end of the arena Q was charging at T with his ears laid back and at the other the mares (natch! every time without fail) chose to graze right next to the fence so T was doing the head down snaky neck herding thing. For my part I chose to ignore it all and just get on anyway. It was either that or just give up and go back indoors.

The lesson was excellent for two reasons. First, the first trot was soft and flowing and really rather splendid, so I was thrilled with that. The second was that we worked on some very nice forward and soft trot with him really out to the contact and relaxed. As he's quite a bit of a bigger mover than Q and I've had to put on my big girl pants to really just go forwards with him, this was really quite something and I could have ridden him all day. I could feel him flagging after a while though as he's had little work, so we finished before he felt the need to voice any concerns about it. Really thrilled with him!

What next: breakfast, quick ten minute sit and sort out everyone. Goats out and about on the yard, chickens also. Finish off beds, do waters, fill nets with haylage, fill hay mangers etc etc etc. Put goats out with T. All seems well. Took Puppy for a walk, went shopping. And at this juncture I really must pause for a moment and reflect on the deep irritation of othe old boy who works on the checkout at our local supermarket. I guess he's about 60 or so and he's a pleasant enough chap but I just wish he could find it within his heart to either (a) move at a pace a little further along the velocity quotient than "glacial" and indeed, it would be so much better if he could do something about that habit of his of thrusting each item at the bar code reader in a way that is both aggressive and deeply suspicious. Often as not, said bar code reader doesn't stand a chance in hell and the unfortunate customer then has to stand there while he taps in the bar code number with equal parts ferocity and pause. I find this an exquisite torture, to stand there while this wrongness is perpetuated time after time, and I literally have to grab myself around the throat to keep myself from screaming. I thank God there's not a precipitous cliff in the vicinity, or I might have had to fling myself off it before now. Likewise, it's just as well there's no handy vat of acid or implement for the plucking out of eyes, or I might well have done myself some serious mischief while standing there on innumerable occasions, waiting for him to complete this series of really rather simple tasks. And the worst of it is he is quite sweet. Just to finish off the boiling cauldron of emotions that he has perpetuated within, he dares at the conclusion to utter the words "have a nice evening". Or what's left of it, presumably.

When I finally made it back to Luso Towers, I made spag bol and industrial quantities of cauliflower cheese (ultimate comfort food) with the assistance of (a) Metallica and (b) a Kopparberg cider. Bring the girls in, feed round, and finally, at last, SIT ON ARSE. Eat copiously. And so endeth another weekend.

ONE MORE WEEK OF WORK BEFORE THE HOLS **WOOT**

New superlative required

2010-12-05T19:12:00.000Z

"Busy" doesn't quite cut it any longer. Even "busy as buggery" falls short.

To the day:
Knickers does earlies feeding round, I get a lie in. Finally forced out of my pit by the overwhelming cute snuffly noises coming from the other side of the bed around 7:30am.

Make tea, go outside. Get rug on Xacra, very easy. What a sweet girl. Alfama; not so much. Two person job. Give up, turn out both girls together. Might sound silly, but never put out two horses together before. Sweet. Tea is cold. Arses.

Let goats out. Angie incites Gwen to try shagging her after bleating all night for a passing billy without success. Gwen gives it her best shot, but her efforts are ultimately unsuccessful. Stable duties: skip out and tidy four stables. Steam hay. Put hay out for girls. Put the goats away. Go in for breakfast. Make bacon butties all round. Coffee. And tea, to make up for the one that went cold.

Back out on the yard. Bring goats out. Put in pen. Angie attempts to gore Gwen and Gerry. Hmmm. Take goats to paddock with lots of thistles. Eventually they settle and at least one thistle is consumed. At last! Some payback. Knickers poo picks, while I undertake some temporary fencing in two paddocks, so we can strip graze winter grazing. Girls go out on paddock next to Q. Q pleased; girls nonplussed. Goats go in their shelter. Woot! Knickers and I drag wheelbarrow full of poo back to yard. Very very hard work. It's a mud bath next to the girls' shelter.

Lunch, and a sit down for 15 mins. Yowser.

Afternoon doings. Waters, haylage, let chickens out, clean out chickens. Epic sweeping of yard. Work both boys. Prepare dinners and morning doings. Go in for a bit. Like, a whole hour!

Off to Pheel's house on top secret mission, involving cooing and snuggling. I've probably said too much already. Arrange for the perimeter to have stock proof fencing installed. No need to draw a picture as to why. Return with two pheasants.

Back from Pheel's. Temperature has plummeted. Bring girls in. This is a definite progress! Day 1: chase girls around for half an hour before coralling them in their shelter. Day 2: girls corral themselves in shelter within 5 mins. Day 3? Girls waiting at the gate :)

Feed round. Go indoors. Cook. Do blog.

Sometime during the next two hours: eat vast quantities and enjoy a small tipple of something suitable.

Progress

2010-12-03T23:19:00.000Z

We ended up bringng the girls in last night as part of our drive to habituate them, and also to get their rugs on. This was quite an operation in tact since they've never had one on before, but they were amazing. So that was good. No attempts to get them off or anything, just acceptance. Gawd bless that Luso temperament.

At last it's stopped snowing but the situation with the trains was best described as diabolical, so working at home for the fourth day in a row. That doesn't mean a lie in though, of course. Lie ins are for Other People, although I did curl up on the sofa about 7ish for a while.

Popped out at lunch time to let the goats out and they all trucked along after me to the mares' field, who were happily munching on a big pile of hay. It gives you an idea what it must be like being part of a herd, because everywhere you go you're surrounded by goats. They came into the paddock with me and milled around while I cleaned the girls' shelter, then came to look over the goat shelter. At one point there were six of us clustered around a wheelbarrow full of hay, which was quite something I can tell you.

Dora came out with me, sporting her Puppy Parka, and the cats of course, gambolling and galloping around like the small furry and well-fed bundles of energy that they are, and the goats too. Our multi-species doings about the yard have taken on a whole new dimension. I mooched over to the picadeiro to collect the fork, and they all mooched over behind me: Angie, lagging behind, proceeded at a brisk waddle. Fork prcoured, I walked back up the yard and looked behind me to see them all tottering along to catch up. Feeling puckish, I started to run. Oh God - I'd have laid strong odds against Angie having a higher gear, but bugger me backwards over a rusty barn door if she didn't break into a gallop, along with the other two girls. I've never seen anything quite like it, and couldn't continue my run because I was too busy whooping with glee. There's nothing quite like a galloping goat, I've learned, especially a well-padded one, to raise your spirits.

It's about -6 or so tonight and we've brought the girls in again. Boys are in for the first night of the winter, mainly because heavy rain is expected tomorrow and at these temperatures it's going to turn the place into an ice rink. We'll make a small area outside the stables for them tomorrow so they can come and go a bit. If the girls' paddock is too dangerous they can go out in the picadeiro. The joys of winter.

Wintry doings

2010-12-02T07:16:00.000Z

Unsurprisingly there is a theme running through all current doings, on account of the fact that it hasn't stopped snowing since Monday night. I had to take a view on Tuesday morning since the trains were best described as erratic. Delays and cancellations - ugh - so stayed home. I can't afford to be stranded away from home. At least we got a consignment of hay safely ensconced in the hay barn on Monday night - poor Knickers got roped in to help Mark and had just finished humping 50 bales as I got home from work. Good timing I thought.

Monday night: onset of snow; close off the summer paddocks; boys now only have access to winter paddocks. Had to up the ruggage in view of the Taters Factor of 10. Struggling to leave the girls unrugged; may have to bow to the intrinsic need to wrap them up.

Tuesday: snow. Working from home. Documentation for the most part, interspersed only by a dodgy moment during which I almost set fire to the house, all because I didn't put the grate part of the wood burner back together before starting a fire. Open doors to chuck in more wood; wallop. Logs fall out onto carpet. Result: one singed carpet; one very smoky room and a coughing Rach. Ack.

Ministering to creatures in the snow takes twice as long as it would ordinarily, but at least we could get it done during daylight hours.

Wednesday: usual 5:30 start: more snow. Trains: chaotic. Stay put. Start work 7am. No point going back to bed really. I enjoy being snowed in, with the proviso that there is sufficient food in for all the creatures. Also, it meant that I was at home when Bob came to deliver our two new charges, Nadja and Grace the ex-MoD goats. Ahhhh. Instructed to conduct introductions in a large space, we let them all out on the yard and would have stood back to watch were it not for a variety of bovids milling about among us, determined to conduct operations from behind someone's legs. This is all very well but a bit squeaky bum when there are horns involved and you're not quite sure how goat intros tend to go. Things went pretty well; predictably Angie took charge but generally speaking a good first encounter. Best bit was when I went off to get the hose to do waters and the three of them followed me to the garden :) I've become accustomed to being followed about by one goat, but three was something else again.

It hasn't stopped snowing at all and taking ages as a consequence to do the creatures. Alfama is coping well but Xacra has dropped a bit of weight, so keeping an eye on her. We decided to lay beds last night about 8pm just in case we have to bring them in. This involved relocating all the fencing and other tools that we stored in the remaining two spare stables through thick snow, and humping multiple bales of bedding. I wonder sometimes is we are quite mad, but it's there should we need it.

So we have nine stables and no spares left. How does that work? T in one, grooming room, rug room, Q, Angie, Nadja and Grace, the chickens, emergency stables for Xacra and Alfama. Eventually the goat stables will be freed up but not until this cold snap is over and they can go out in the field, and make use of the much anticipated shelter. Pheel (uber farmer and builder of Things) has been to inspect said shelter and gave us an 8/10 for effort, so we are thrilled. We got extra points for nailing on the onduline roof correctly.

And finally, we've had a trailer load (and I do mean a large trailer attached to a tractor type of load) of wood delivered to help keep us goingg through the winter.

Thursday: 7am and snowed in again. No trains going to London. Deep snow outside. Glands up and the beginnings of some unpleasantness. I think this is because I have stepped off the treadmill for a few days and wallop.

Bloody Nora

2010-11-28T21:35:00.000Z

God what a day! Had a lie in until about 9, which was just as well given the epic levels of activity that followed.

Morning doings: haylage all round, break the ice on the water troughs again. Angie out in her pen. Gather up chickens who have opted to take free range more literally than intended and return them to their run. Clean kitchen. Cup of tea. Scrambled eggs and toast. Nom. More tea. Clean meehoo room. Vacuum.

Weather forecast suggest that heavy snow is en route. Arrrghh. Must batten down hatches. Skip out/muck out boys and Angie, clean out field shelter and top up straw beds and wood chips. Sid chops industrial quantities of wood while wailing loudly and out of tune to his iPod. Do best to flatten poached area outside girls' shelter. Consider the need for girls to be confined to shelter, and the resulting need for further water buckets.

Trip to Charity Farm for supplies: water buckets, feed buckets for incoming goatages, wormers, broom. Stock up on supplies from farm shop. Stop by the hardware store for some metal brackets on the way home.

Meanwhile, Sid starts work on the goat shelter.More cutting of weatherboard to size. Afternoon preps: haylage all round, dinners, steam hay, water all round. Sounds easy when you say it quick but hoses and yard tap frozen so need to bring it all up from the house. Arrghhh. Bring Angie in. She makes a play for Sid's Belgian buns, but disaster is averted at the last. Put Angie away after she's wandered around the yard for half an hour helping herself to haylage, carrots, hay etc.

The final push on the goat shelter: board up back and sides. Sid makes a shutter on advice from Bob the goat man - they like to be able to see out so he made a flap which can be opened as needed. Put chicken in oven to roast. Gather in the meehoos and feed. Feed Puppy. Put roof on goat shelter. Attach metal tie rings to base to facilitate dragging. Yay! Finished.

Lash the goat shelter to the LandCruiser. Put mares away. Dismantle temporary electric fencing to facilitate passage of aforementioned LandCruiser and lashed-on shelter.

The operation to transfer the goat shelter form its site of construction in the middle of the yard to a suitable spot in the field commences, with Sid at the wheel. There's only one shot to get it through the field gate, but this passes without incident. There follows precision driving at a snail's pace, a bit like those programmes you see when people put a house on the back of a truck and transport it to a new location, albeit on a much smaller scale. Begin to hum theme tune from Dambusters. Shelter is aligned as planned, facing away from prevailing winds and the worst of the weather. Sorted. Clean up, put away tools. Remove chicken from oven.

The job is done. Under cover of darkness, the goat shelter has been completed and transferred to its new location. The sense of achievement is matched only by numbness of arse and feet.

God what a day!

Needless to say, the boys didn't get worked again. Perhaps I should try wearing my knickers outside my jods and se if that makes a difference.

Current status: roast chicken dinner, demolished. Chocolate pud with ice cream: seen off. All that remains is lates and a nice hot bath to ease muscles which are uttering noises that sound something like "Jesus wept!", "sodding hell" and "bloody Nora".

Sanctuary visit

2010-11-27T20:04:00.000Z

Thanks to the glory that is Knickers, I actually got a lie in this morning until about 8:30. Utter bliss.

At lunchtime we went to the local goat sanctuary to find a companion for Angie. Wow, what an unbelievable place! They have about 120 goats of all sizes and shapes, and an excellent setup; huge paddocks with big trees to climb on - much better than anything we have at home tbh. We had a bit of a wait for Bob to show us the possible candidates he had in mind, during which time we very nearly froze to death on a number of occasions.That's because it is completely and utterly TATERS at the moment. Just as we were about to beat a path back to the relative warmth of the car Bob arrived and showed us two pairs he'd had in mind. Max and Millie first, small goats and very sweet but Max has horns that stick straight up and Millie is quite bumptious, so perhaps not best for us as first time owners. The other pair are an older pair of hornless girls about the same size as Angie, called Nadja and Grace, very docile and sweet. The upshot is that they're being delivered on Wednesday at 2pm. They came from the MoD, where they were used in experiments in pressure chambers :/

What the hell are we doing?

Sid and I went to collect some more Weatherboard, which we need to finish the goat hotel. We had an idea to try to flatten the area outside the girls' shelter as it was frozen into peaks and troughs. Not having a roller or similar equipment, we used the LandCruiser, back and forth, back and forth, with only moderate success. Lots of poo picking and such ensued, sorting of the field shelter etc, all in the stinking, freezing temperatures that made me feel like my arse was going to fall right off. I'm not sure it's defrosted even now, some hours later.

The ultimate irony about this time of year is that there is quite a bit more to do to tend to all the creatures, and only a few hours of daylight into which to cram it all. There's so much to do, I don't really know where to start sometimes.

Tomorrow, the plan is to finish off the field shelter and I really must do something with the boys. We also need to stat on a shelter for the chickens, on account of their reluctance to seek protection in even the worst of the weather. Certainly, it's never boring.

What a week

2010-11-26T23:41:00.000Z

There are a small clutch of phrases suitable to describe a week like the one I've just had, but I think i will settle for "bleeding Nora". It's been a particular slog; packed with meetings and a great deal to be done wherever you look. On Wednesday I went to Roehampton Uni for a day with the suppliers of our helpdesk software, which was an excellent day, setting aside the 50 min trek along Roehampton Lane that was clearly advertised as a 20 minute walk but just as clearly wasn't. So whilst my planned arrival at Barnes for 9:40 to arrive at 10am seemed perfectly adequate in the inception stage, the actuality of it was rather different and I arrived at just a whisker before 10:30, perspiring moderately, full of bladder and desperate for coffee and breakfast, just as the seminar started.

That aside it was a good day and we all piled down to the pub afterwards for a well-deserved pint. I really like these guys and Roehampton is home from home now, so well beaten is the path between our campus and theirs.

Today I've said goodbye to a member of my team and taken in a new contractor for the intervening period, who has ingratiated himself very well actually by the simple expedient of buying me (a) some chips and curry sauce, and (b) a pint of Guinness in the pub tonight at the leaving do. Turns out the pub is like waiting for a bus; you don't see one for ages and then two come along in one week.

I know I've remarked on this already but it really is surprising just how many people seem to really like goats.

Extremes of activity, and new developments

2010-11-21T21:21:00.000Z

It's been a very very tiring but rewarding day. Up at 7.30 again for lesson on T with Mandy. Most of this one was in trot and I really feel I'm starting to get to grips with lots of things I hadn't really got a grip on. Really thrilled with this and for the first time today, I realised afterwards, I didn't have the slightest of butterflies about getting on him. After the lesson he shared another pile of haylage with Angie :)

This afternoon Knickers and I decided to take Angie with us to poo pick T's field. At first she loitered near his stable but when we rounded the corner she came over at what can best be described as a fast waddle just as T wandered over, and they had their first encounter at liberty. He was ace, really sweet and gentle. She was a little bit nervous and butted him on the nose, which gave us the opportunity to see what he looks like with an exclamation mark hovering over his head, and that was that. She came with us to poo pick, just like a dog would. What a fabulous creature she is.

Next we had a visit from Bob from the local goat sanctuary, who came to assess us as a potential adoption site. We'd cleaned up the yard to make everything spick and span for the inspection, and of course there was the small matter of the capacious goat hotel that is currently under construction in the middle of the yard. Bob was great and the upshot was that we're going to visit next weekend to look at potential companions for Angie.

A couple of Angie factoids:
* everyone who meets her seems to fall in love. Even as goats go, she's damn cute. A couple of farmer friends popped in to help us shift a bale of haylage midweek, and spent a pleasant half hour completely and utterly taking the piss out of us for getting a goat, particularly when it emerged that we'd paid for her. Then when they saw her "oh she's sweet isn't she", followed by "can I go in with her?"
* we were talking to the lady who works in the farm shop in the village, who used to work at the farm shop from whence Angie came, and bugger me if she didn't have a photo of Angie on her phone - driving a tractor. I kid you not. See what I did there?

Meanwhile the goat hotel "maison chevre" is coming on a treat.

Another quiet day at the homestead

2010-11-20T20:18:00.000Z

Up at 7:30am, determined to get one of the boys done before Little Miss had her post-spay follow up vet check I decided to put Angie out in the pen behind the stables first, then off T and I went for our session, during which time I discovered that one way to get him to ignore the mares is to have a goat on her hind legs watching proceedings from the other side of the fence.

Afterwards when I put him out, he went to have a sniff at Angie and I decided to put out some haylage on either side of the fence. Shortly afterwards they were sharing the pile in what was possibly the cutest thing I've ever seen. I have high hopes that he'll be happy to share some space with a goat or two. He stayed there with her all morning!

Knickers and I took Little Miss to vitnery (all fine), dropped her back home then went shopping, which constituted a boot full of sacks of feed for the creatures and a bag full of veggies, some bread and local free range bacon for us, grabbing some unhealthy but yummy pastry thing from the bakery on the way through.

Raised the Kracken from his pit; he and Knickers went in search of a new chain for the chainsaw, only to find a complete dearth of them everywhere. Turns out Pheel has the facilities to make chains of any specification, so off they went to Pheel's to have one made. Is there no end to the man's talents? Sid now also has workshop envy :) and there is the small matter of the Springer x Lab puppies, just a week old ... Oh God.

Meanwhile I did some cleaning of the yard and a variety of jobs before getting Q in to ride. Hmm I thought, when we got to the yard, he seems uncommonly lively. In fact so unsettled and utterly "up" was he that I thought hmm, I know, I'll do some ground work. And as well I did, as the hunt was in the area (when I say in the area, I mean in the next property) and it set everyone off - the mares were charging around bucking, and Q ran and ran and ran. All I could really do was stand in the middle, watching. Not the most productive of sessions and all that could really be said of it was that it certainly dealt with any beans he might have had and, being unclipped, he was a complete sweaty mess by the end of it. Good job they're supposed to let people know when they're in the area isn't it, otherwise they'd be a bunch of red-coated tossers with an unfeasibly large number of dogs and a dearth of common decency.

Next on the agenda: the reason for the chainsaw - our latest building project - the goat shelter. Oh yes! So far we've made the base frame and the vertical poles, and tomorrow we'll start putting up the walls. Might move it first before it gets too heavy, or risk it being marooned in the centre of the yard, for ever.

Our reward for these endeavours: a well-stocked wood burner, Indian takeaway and a nice bottle of Kopparberg. Splendid.

Bastards

2010-11-17T22:08:00.000Z

After a torrid couple of days of commuting, constituting about a month's worth of misery crammed into two days, I feel I must issue forth in some detail about the experience. Before I begin I will however grant that ordinarily the service is very reliable and good, and only relatively rarely are there problems - this is one benefit of using trains that routinely do the entire Kent coast.

So yesterday we had delays and cancellations both in and out of London, so I wasn't really expecting any problems today because frankly that would be ridiculous. As a result you could have bent me over and buggered me sideways and I wouldn't have been more surprised than I already was to discover that the 6:50 to London had been cancelled. Again. Well - I say cancelled, but it was worse than that. Because it was delayed outside Ashford for more than 20 minutes, some middle manager somewhere took the view that in order to try to restore balance, what they'd do is **miss out our station altogether** in order to make up some time. Right. So what they're effectively saying is that the thousands upon thousands of pounds that the village (and its collective) commuting community spends on its annual commute is somehow of less value than that of someone from, say, Tonbridge. That's bollocks, that is. The level of polite indignation among the commuters was quite extraordinary. One man even suggested people should complain!

There's a particular kind of irritation associated with this sort of thing when you've been up since 5:30am and attended to 4 horses, 5 cats, a dog and a goat, you've showered and ironed your clobber and still made it out the door by 6:35, only to be faced with a 20 minute wait at the station in the freezing cold when you could have been at home stuffing haynets or fussing goats. So we (the assembled throng) await the 7:10 and Jane, the nice lady at the station, keeps us amused with barely veiled cynicism about the whole sorry process, and we chortle gently, partly mollified at least by All Being In It Together.

Naturally enough, the 7:10 is late, and then crawls up the tracks in such way that I idly wonder if things would proceed more quickly if I were to get out and walk, or attempt to pick it up and chuck it up the track myself. Eventually we arrive in London and there follows the inevitable loitering for a connection, and eventually I make it into the office, some two and a half hours after I left home.

The working day proceeds more or less as planned, except because of my late arrival at the office, I remain for the commensurate period and leave the office around 5. Get to the station only to see the 17:08 wafting out of the station, but don't concern myself because the 17:11 will be along in exactly 3 minutes' time. Or will it. It's only when I arrive on the platform that I become aware of the tannoy message informing me that, due to signalling problems at Cannon Street, the 17:11 is cancelled. And the 17:18, the 17:23, 28 and 33. Arses.

So I sit and make myself as comfortable as it is possible to be on a fixed metal seat on a cold night in November on an exposed railway platform in South London, and watch a procession of trains go through the station without stopping. 17:39 comes and goes; no train. It is advertised, but rather ominously with no time attached to it. I'd barely clung on to my good temper by consideration that with good luck and a dearth of further fuck ups I could somehow make it to London Brige in time for the 17:49, but that soon dissipated like the remnants of a fog on a sunny morning, to be replaced by gathering dark clouds and forked lightning. By this time the platform was heaving with bodies, the like of which has not been seen since the last signalling problem at Cannon Street. In the end it was 4 minutes short of an hour that I stood or sat on that sodding platform. Eventually the train arrived at a shade after 6pm and off we went to London Bridge.

Upon arrival I thought I know, I'll go and check the main board for the train times. I waded through the sea of bodies to the boards, only to find that the next train was in 1 minute. Arrghh. I already knew, looking at the mass of bodies that lay between me and my target, that there was no way on this earth that I was going to get there in time, but just for the extra piquancy of the moment I was permitted to arrive just in time to see the fucking thing pull out of the station. I almost lost it at that moment.

I, along with 50,000 others, milled about on the relevant platforms waiting for news and listening to the announcements, as advised. Luckily for me my sister Bulse called and restored my good humour, or I might have run amok at any moment. Thanks babe, that was a life saver.

The final straw for me was the rich lilting Caribbean accent of the staff member announcing the 18:36 to West Weeeck-ham (mon), in so doing drawing a near perfect image of sun, sand, palm trees, rum and reggae, the complete antithesis of a cold and miserable evening spent on a variety of railway platforms in South London. I couldn't help but smile to myself. At least I think it was a smile, but it may have been a rictus grimace.

The long and the short of the sorry tale was that I arrived home just after 8pm, some three hours after I left the office. That makes a grand total of five and a half hours' commuting today.

The only saving grace was coming home to a roaring fire, home made soup, the fact that Knickers had done the boys (including feet for the first time!), some new woolly socks and a set of lamb footrot shears for when vitnery comes to attend to Angie and the horses tomorrow.

Goatie goodness

2010-11-14T21:50:00.000Z

Every day is a busy day here at Luso Towers, but some days are definitely busier than others. Yesterday was one such. Up early to ride Q, while T had a mad half hour charging around, bucking and doing caprioles for no apparent reason other than that he could. Poo picked (and for those who have never had the pleasure of dragging or pushing a wheelbarrow full of sodden poo through a mud bath, be glad that it's almost impossible to describe the experience), prepped a stable and then went off to the farm shop to collect Angie. She's a real darling, loves a fuss and I swear she recognised us from the last time we went to see her.

Rather than the sledgehammer/walnut scenario of taking the horse trailer to fetch her, we borrowed Karen's stock trailer. She loaded like a pro and off we went back home. Unloaded and put her in the stable, left Knickers with her while I took the trailer back.

There's a pen at the back of the boys' stables which we thought would be ideal for her so we took her in there to see what happened. Within seconds she'd put her head and a front leg through the lowest of the post and rail gaps, so back she went to the stable and we set to with a 50m roll of stock proof fencing. Within not very long at all (especially once we hit on the idea of using a large pair of pruning shears as wire cutters) we'd got the pen lined with stock proof fencing and were feeling pretty pleased with ourselves. 4:30pm and dark though so no chance to put her in there, and I had to go and run a few errands.

Sunday
This morning I had a lesson on T to look forward to. When I went to fetch him he came charging up the field doing a Big Trot (TM) which IMO is something of an achievement in such a wet field, apparently filled with the desire to urgently acquaint himself with Dan's horses, on the walker. Clearly a blokeish day. We had what can best be described as a dodge-off, with him wanting to charge off back down the field and me blocking him, which went on for a few minutes before he won. Off I tootled down the field to fetch him.

He hadn't been ridden or otherwise worked all week and was clearly feeling "well". What with that and the added complication of Angie's presence and her tendency to stand on her hind legs at the stable door, I was wondering how to minimise any potential surprises, particularly while sat astride half a ton of supremely athletic stallion. Put Angie out in her pen, or not? Tether her nearby? I'm not a fan of tethering tbh but there it is. In the end I decided it would be best to leave her where she was and introduce her and T before we went to the arena. T was ace - fascinated and pumped of neck for a while there but chilled and with a lovely soft look in his eyes. I have half a hope she could be a companion for him.

We had a good warm up with lunge and in hand work, and he was good as gold. Not fussed by Angie calling or indeed by me calling back to her to tell her everything was ok. Mandy arrived, on I got and he felt really good. We're working on him reaching out to the bit within a range of activities including LY, SI and transitions to trot. Each week I feel improvements which is quite a thing since I hadn't ridden him since the last lesson, but I feel he is more confident in reaching to the contact and we had some really nice transitions and sitting trot before the heavens opened and down it came. Lots of interesting feels to store away and think on. Really pleased with him. Even on a loose rein walking directly towards the girls he maintained focus so maybe next week I'll leave them in the next field. Or maybe not :)

The next order of business was to take Angie for a walk, once it stopped raining. Goats, you see, are very susceptible to bad weather. The immediate thing that did me in was how much better she was on the lead than yesterday. The mares came to the gate with that look of intense interest, to investigate. We went in the picadeiro, the mares came along and grazed apparently uninterestedly right by the fence. Then we went in their field and there followed a period of very interested sniffing on the part of the girls, and a study of standing still followed by huddling up to me for support on the part of Angie. Man, she's sweet.

We walked around the field so Q could see her and he was absolutely agog. He's such a drama queen. Big trots and snorting, then stopping, head right up on full alert like a big Portuguese meerkat, then trotting off to have a pop at T, presumably to reaffirm his manliness. He dursn't let us too near, and it seemed she was much less scary if she stood still than if she *gasp* MOVED! Horrors!

The plan for the afternoon was to build her a shelter in the pen, but we were stymied by a number of issues, not the least of which was the weather. So we will have to limp along for a while. But she does need a chum - she was bleating when Knickers went out first thing to feed, and also when I went out for my lesson, so this needs to be addressed asap. Poor girl. But as I said to her, better lonely for a few days than having your head chopped off.

Need to get vitnery to look her over as her feet are overgrown and need attention. Her knees already look better though.

I wasn't prepared for what an utterly charming creature she is. She loves a fuss, has bonded to us for reassurance and is just really sweet. The thing that really kills me is the noise she makes while munching - I've never heard anything so sweet. That's probably weird. Knickers suggested I record it and then use it as a ring tone. Genius! I bet noboy else on earth has the sound of a goat munching as a ring tone, and if they do I really need to meet them.

Otherwise, we did loads of yard doings in the rancid, pissing rain, cleaned the stables, cleared out the hay barn and had Pheel round to empty the muck clamp, before retiring indoors.

Doodads, literally

2010-11-12T18:20:00.001Z

So today was the day that I'd booked in the meehoos to be castrated/sterilised, as applicable. I'm such a sap, I hate doing it and I particularly hate the hours leading up to it, when they mill around me with that particular aura about them: "Mom, did you forget to feed us?". A policy of avoidance only goes so far because they're there, tickling the back of your frontal lobe from a different room, sending out distress signals involving empty bellies and food. And I can't explain to them when they come to me saying "Mom, what are you doing, you definitely forgot to feed us" that I haven't in fact forgotten, it's just that they're undergoing a GA to facilitate the removal of their gonads in a few hours' time, for which an empty belly is an important prerequisite. And indeed, were I able to explain it to them, I'm not convinced it would be that much better from their perspective, when the obvious responses would be "OH GOD NO!" quickly followed by "but WHY?".

The hour came, I got the cat boxes out of the garage and in they went, easy as pie. On the 20 or so minute journey to Cranbrook, there was only minimal wailing, which was good. However, about halfway there I suddenly became aware of an unholy odour creeping stealthily around the car, only to burst with appalling clarity in my nose; the sort of stench which can only ever emanate from a cat's arse. Hmmm. Nothing for it but to engage mind control and Keep Driving.

Upon arrival at the surgery, they invited me to take a seat in the waiting room. I did so, with both cat boxes arrayed at my feet, hoping it wouldn't be too long. I sat and waited, and waited some more, and all the while the surrounding air became saturated with the unmistakable aroma of cat poo, while for my part my eyes started bleeding and my nostrils slammed shut. One of the receptionists walked by and remarked "Ooooh, someone's done a poo" which, from my particular vantage point, was a completely unhelpful and unnecessary contribution to the proceedings. Clearly such observational skills as she possessed did not permit her to register the fact that my face had gone green and my eyes had melted and thus had a better than average chance of being aware of this development already. Eventually the vet arrives and we go through to the consulting room for the pre-op check. "Oooh" she said, "someone's done a poo".

And there it was. My betrayal complete, I left them to the surgeon's scalpel and returned to Luso Towers feeling miserable and guilty. The only thing to do in such a situation was to tootle over to the farm shop to visit with Angelina, the new addition to our family, and to buy some produce whilst we were there. We discovered that we needed a CPH number in order to keep a goat and that this must be obtained prior to transport taking place. I therefore spoke to a very helpful young man at the RPA who upgraded my request to critical (woop woop!) and informed me that I should receive my CPH number some time later in the day.

Knickers and I went to McVeighs, purveyors of all farm equipment, whereupon we purchased a range of items suitable for constructing (a) a goat shed, and (b) a covered area for the chickens, whose talents do not include the sense to stay indoors when it is cold and wet and miserable, and who therefore leave themselves vulnerable to chills. The plan is to knock in four fence posts (necessitating a post basher), for each of the corners, then use weatherboard on the back and sides, with an onduline roof (necessitating sheets of onduline, a kilo of staples, 100 onduline-specific nails and some 2x4 rails to use as roof struts). We also purchased a 50m roll of stock fencing, which will be used to secure her pen against escape attempts of the cunning bovid variety. We can use existing chipboard to make a raised bed, for goats, it seems, like a raised bed. This will be much cheaper than buying something ready made. I had a cunning plan to create a goat hay rack out of some pallets after I found a recipe for one on the Internet, but was stymied at the last by the fact that there were no pallets to be had. Will have to develop a plan B for this.

The impluse purchase of the day was a an implement called a Wood Pekka, used to split large logs into smaller ones. This is timely because we have a lot of big logs, but less and less small ones, so we got one. Upon arriving home with said goodies and eating some soup (roasted butternet squash), Knickers and I amused ourselves by splitting enough logs to fill the log container thingie, in about ten minutes flat! Wowser.
We also added a layer of wood chips to Xacra's side of the field shelter, poo picked the shelter and the field and went off to get the meehoos, by now divested of their doodads and ready to come home. And very please to come home they were, milling about, gazing up at me in that glorious trusting way that they have, apparently bearing me no ill will at all for the day's events, but still wanting some FOOD.

I now have my CPH number and tomorrow we go to collect Angelina.

One year on

2010-11-07T19:22:00.003Z

A year ago yesterday we moved all our worldly goods and chattels two miles up the road in two large removal vans, a Land Cruiser and an Ifor Williams trailer to begin a much anticpiated (not to say rather costly) new chapter in our lives on a small and only partly formed farm project.Getting to that stage was in itself a triumph of optimism and an eye on the main prize over a sustained set of setbacks, stresses and tribulations that would have tested the patience of a really rather patient person, let alone that of an irascible Frenchman and a woman for whom tolerance has been only recently discovered country.

The first order of business was to get set up for the boys to arrive on the day we completed ownership, and to that end, once we'd exchanged contracts we got Pheel in to do industrial levels of post and rail fencing. This in itself required a lot of juggling and negotiation in terms of access to the land and the order in which things had to be done, but we got it done because we had to, and that's one of the best drivers I know to get something done.

The day arrived; we moved all our worldy goods and chattels as discussed... and then spent several hours waiting for the previous owners to finish moving out while people hung about outside and got increasingly jittery, not the least of which was the gaggle of removal men whose task it was to assist us and whose prime driver was to bugger off home asap, as the clock ticked on towards 5pm, dark encroached and for extra effect, it started pissing down.

Unfortunately the weather had turned consistently wet and rancid in the weeks prior to our arrival and the yard as a consequence looked something like this when we moved in:

The whole circumstance of the move took place under rather freakish conditions, in that the previous owners stayed on at the yard with their horses; the deal being that they took care of the boys in return for the use of five stables over the winter. This suited us fine at the time - it was a big help on the one hand but also awkward on the other, for all concerned.

Meanwhile, we faced the immediate choice of kayaking up to the yard several times a day or getting in some hardstanding, so we went for the latter option and beat a path with the aid of several tons of hardcore, thus:

You can still see the sea of mud surrounding the hardcore, but it was a start.

The next priority was to install, as a matter of some urgency, an area in which we could work the boys, so once again Pheel was called in and set to to build us a picadeiro on the cheap (cheap being a relative term), which doubles as an all weather turnout that pretty much saved (a) our bacon, and (b) the boys' sanity during periods of sustained ice and snow when it wasn't safe to turn them out.

The picadeiro under construction.

Winter came and went and with it a great deal of snow, during which coping was the main activity. Some days the weather was so bad that beating a path through the snow and wind to the yard was bad enough, let alone anything else, and we got through heroic quantities of hay, haylage and carrots. Not to mention road salt, beating a path to the picadeiro from the yard. This phase will henceforth be remembered as our Path-beating Period.

Spring
With the arrival of spring, we faced a number of dilemmas. Lots of things needing to be done but we couldn't get on with any of them until some significant changes took place. The previous owners still had a couple of mobile stables on the yard, which was to be the site for the new muck clamp, and it really needed to go before the rest of the hardstanding went in. A date was set for them to move their horses out; March 21st, the spring solstice.

This was a typical scene from the bedroom window prior to the departure date.

The mobile stables are there on the left, behind the straw bales. Notice also the

giant molehill that has appeared from the first batch of hardstanding.

Alone at last

It was always going to be tricky, sharing a property with someone who once owned it but no longer does. There were things we could all have handled better but didn't, so it was quite a thing when the date itself loomed and they began packing. It was surprisingly emotional for me and I did feel for them, leaving. It also meant that we could crack on with all the work that needed doing.

Also, the boys at long last started their 24/7 turnout, something I have wanted for them since time began.

First things first, the hardstanding. Quickly followed by...

...the muck clamp. Yay!

Spring Arrivals

Then there was the small matter of cats arriving on the scene, quite obviously homeless and hungry. Sid was adamant that he didn't want any more cats and I was adamant that I couldn't let them starve, so I started feeding them. There was a ginger tom, still with orbs attached, and a smaller black cat whom I initially took to be a boy but her swelling belly soon gave the lie to that and revealed her to be a pregnant queen. She was terribly shy while he was much more friendly; I named them Binky and Ted.

One day while I was at work, Binky had one of her babies on the patio. Sid rang me all in a lather, wanting to know what to do. The upshot was that Binky and her new family were brought into the house so that she could raise them in a safe environment...

This is the sort of thing that happens when you take pity

on a stray cat who turns out to be a pregnant queen :)

We've kept two of the meehoos (Jim and Little Miss, the latter who famously turned up mewling piteously in our kitchen roof one morening in late spring) and of course Binky and Ted are still with us, now suitably divested of their reproductive equipment, and we are back to being a five cat household.

Fencing, Round II

A second batch of fencing was needed to prepare for the mares' arrival. I did have a rare old time riding Q around the large paddock prior to this, but we could not postpone the inevitable and so the next thing was for Pheel, his giant Massey and bevy of helpers to descend once more upon the homestead and install the next lot of fencing. The stallion paddock was divided lengthwise into two and the mares' field was divided up into two decent sized ones plus a smaller one which would serve as an access point for Q between his winter and summer paddocks, the point being that the boys could always gain access to their stables for shelter, whether from summer or winter paddocks.

Pheel hard at it with his Massey

We also had to do something with all that top soil that was scraped up in preparation for the hardstanding going down, and took the decision to spread it at one end of what would be Q's access paddock and the mares' winter grazing. We then spent some while considering that this might have been an error, but in fact nature takes its course and with a spring roll and reseed of the paddocks, things started to happen, grass began growing over it and all was well after all.

The boys enjoying their summer turnout

Summer work - the arena
The next big project was the much-anticipated arena, and a giant loan to fund it. It took approximately two weeks to complete and was ready in the middle of July. Noboy mentioned that I would have to then sit and look at it for two weeks while it settled, or that we would be waiting weeks and weeks and WEEKS for a decent shower to help bed it in. I can say with some authority that attempting to do this with a garden sprinkler is a fool's hope and no good can come of it. One thing we've learnt about having a place with land is you really need tools appropriately sized for the task at hand, or you mightn't as well bother.

One newly minted arena with flexiride surface

Raised beds
One idea we had to use up some of that top soil and also to add some much needed greenery to the proceedings was to create some raised beds around the car park and plant loads of hawthorn (by loads I mean 100) around it. Hawthorn particularly because it is one of the few hedging plants that is not toxic to horses. So we created a range of raised beds around the back and along the sides of the car park, one giant fuck-off bed along the side that borders with our neighbours, and three raised beds in the front garden which will be used to grow veggies, but which we didn't quite get around to this year.

One giant raised bed, with leylandi along the fence line.

This will be given over to wild flowers and grasses.

A small selection of the many hawthorn bushes, compost and

railway sleepers that went into creating all the raised beds.

The mares arrive!
In the late spring we received the glad tidings that both Xacra and Alfama were confirmed in foal, so we could instigate arrangements for them to begin their journey home from Portugal. This necessitated the purchase and construction of a field shelter in preparation and a great deal of running around going "wheeee!". This was the third time I have been on tenterhooks awaiting the arrival of a John Parker lorry delivering its precious Portuguese cargo and I'm not sure the excitement ever gets any less, particularly as we hadn't seen them in a long time. The morning dragged on interminably but eventually they arrived, walked off the lorry calm as you like and settled down to graze as though they'd lived here for years:

Finally, all the horses at home together :)

One year on

So it's been a year of quite phenomenal (a) activity, (b) expense and (c) excitement. We've undertaken more than I ever thought possible and the view from the bedroom window now looks something like this:

It's true that the trailer still needs a swill but hopefully we can be forgiven that minor transgression in view of the large amount of doings that have been done. It's no small matter doing all this in one's spare time (that and earning the money to pay other people to do it) while simultaneously enjoying (!) a more than three hour daily commute and a full time full-on job, but somehow we have been doing it for a year.

We've turned our hand to many things, from fence-fixing in the bitter cold on the darkest nights, to building a run and a shelter for the chickens, and all sorts of things that happen on a daily basis when there is land and horses to take care of. I can't pretend it's not hard work; it is. There are many sacrifices to having the horses at home and sometimes I am so tired I can hardly see straight. But is it worth it? Absolutely. There is nothing on earth that I have found so fulfilling as having everyone at home and being at liberty to manage them exactly as we consider to be the right way. If something needs doing, then it is up to us to do it and if it doesn't get done then we only have ourselves to blame. There's a lot to be said for that.

Looking forward
In many ways the adventure is only just beginning. Knickers is now living with us and proving to be a huge help, we have six chickens laying six eggs a day like clockwork, and next spring there is the small matter of our two new arrivals to look forward to, and decisions to be made as to the next steps for breeding. We're thinking, all being well, of breeding Q to Xacra and T to Alfama, and have some decisions to make as to whether this will be live cover or AI. We also need to start promoting the boys as stallions and I really, really need to get my arse in ear to get out there and do some competing. I'm having weekly lessons on T now and my dear hope and ambition for him is that we can develop our relationship to a state where I can take him out and compete him as well as Q.

So it's not as if having done all this work we can sit back on our arses and take it easy; no way!

To Dancing Green, and all who sail in her.

Nothing substantive

2010-11-03T20:14:00.000Z

So Sid's out for the evening with his second wife (Rob) and may come home slightly the worse for wear and brandishing a bicycle tyre. If it's only slightly worse for wear this will constitute some sort of miracle. Meanwhile Knickers and I are home alone at Luso Towers and she has a new laptop, at which she is tapping away feverishly, much like I am, writing this. The philosophical question is, is this some modern act of communion or the ultimate in small bubbles of contemporary isolation? I can for example just as easily send her a message on Facebook as I can open my mouth and say something. The possibilities are endless.

Meanwhile, once more we have no hot water. Again. Even now the immersion heater is sat there in the cupboard, utterly inscrutable, keeping the secrets of its malfunction deep within. It's only two months or so since we last bussed in a range of professionals to inspect it and coax it back to life again, and it's sitting there again, resolutely vestigial.

That's really it. I did indicate that nothing substantive had occurred.

Christ on a bike

2010-11-02T20:52:00.000Z

The last two days at work are best described as "bloody busy", interviewing for 3 vacant positions, with an associated procession of some 14 bodies. That's a lot of bodies. I've barely seen the boys but thank dawg Sid and Knickers have been feeding and generally ministering to their requirements. It's a complete arse being the only bugger getting up in the morning though while everyone else is loitering with student-like indolence or hacking away feverishly on a keyboard at home while I drag my weary, knackered carcass into town and back every sodding day. WHY is our institution so utterly backwards about flexible working?

I finally called Cats Protection today about neutering vouchers for Jim and Little Miss, and while I was at it I rang Rolvenden Cat Rescue to enquire about the two of Binky's daughters that they took to rehome - only to find that they are still there :( Bugger, I wasn't expecting that. The good news is they have been spayed and are in the house, but the guilt trip is just awful even though we've acquired 4 cats ourselves out of it with Binky, Ted, Jim and Little Miss. At one point they were housing **84** cats. 84! And I thought our feed bill was intense. The mind boggles about what would happen to all those cats if it weren't for these dedicated people. It makes me so sad. If I won the lottery I'd probably go wholesale into a large rescue place, and even that would merely be a drop in the ocean. It's no good having these thoughts; it's too big and hoary a problem to contemplate at an individual level other than doing what we can for the creatures we have, and supporting favoured charities. Sigh.

Back up to speed

2010-10-31T01:34:00.000+01:00

Thursday evening we had a lovely meal and I was feeling well, if inordinately tired. Some time during the night I awoke with a stomach lined with concrete and passed some considerable time in the environs of the bog, or curled up in a small ball next to the bog, or writhing around going "arrrghh" and "mmmph", followed inevitably by "weh!". I don't know why this only happened to me, but clearly I couldn't blame Sid's cooking if nobody else was affected. Unsurprisingly, next morning greeted me with stomach cramps and a giant, pounding headache. I can now say with some authority that getting up to feed round at 5:30am after such an event is (a) very unpleasant, and (b) more time-consuming than could reasonably be expected. Had to stay off work and nurse myself gently through the day doing very little, trying not to be blokeish. The headache was still there late afternoon and into the evening, so an early night was called for. Except that when I went to bed and looked out the bathroom window I saw a set of headlights rather incongruusly driving about in our neighbour John's fields, opposite. Had to call him and he went out there to investigate, while Sid piled outside with an implement of Japanese persuasion, just in case self defence might be required, while I followed him out with my, erm, torch. Headlights disappeared, John was ok so we then had to check the fields, Sid with his implement of Japanese persuasion and me with my, erm, torch.

Knickers bless her took pity on me and offered to feed round this morning, which meant an uninterrupted lie in til 8am. Bliss! 8am arrives; I wake thinking "fuck! Tessa's coming at half nine and the kitchen is rancid; better get my arse in gear". Kitchen cleaned, random loose chickens restored to their pen, Tessa arrives, we catch up. Q had a bit of tightness in his wither area and Sid had his neck fixed, I made a fish stock and some bacon butties. Sent Sid and Knickers shopping while I put up a new fence line and dug a wheelbarrow full of thistles out of the girls' winter paddock, before preparing for a lesson on T with Mandy. As the weather was nice, I'd made the fundamental error of taking the boys' rugs off so that they could enjoy the sun on their backs and, inevitably, they had rolled in the muddiest areas: T was a mud monster requiring less a robust grooming brush than a hammer and chisel. We got a decent warmup in; although he was quite distracted he settled and relaxed before Mandy arrived and we had what turned out to be a great lesson. A moment's excitement when Sid was trying to cover his car with a car cover, which set T off - he scuttled forward but only to the end of the rein and that was that. What a good lad. Have resolved to have a lesson every week now so very much looking forward to that.

Afterwards, removed the harrow from the girls' winter paddock, took the opportunity to harrow their current paddock, rearranged the temporary electric fence to section it off, called Sid and Knickers to come and witness, and let the girls out into their new pasture. Oh! the big trots and tails right up over their backs, what a beautiful sight. We don't often get to see them move but when they do they really go for it! Wow. It took about 5 seconds for Q to spot the new development and about the same for T. Poor Q was doing his Best Trot (TM) up and down the fence and the girls were alternatively trotting around larging it up, and stopping to graze, ignoring him utterly and in my view, quite ostentatiously. Left them to it, went to clean out their shelter and wrestle the muck heap into submission, feed round and retreat indoors to:

* build two fires
* chop a shedload of onions
* take a shower
* vacuum
* light loads of candles

just in time for Liz and Tim to arrive for dinner. We haven't seen them for ages and it was really good to catch up over an excellent bouillabaisse (Sid), bangers and bubble & squeak with red wine onion gravy and spinach (me and Knickers) and sticky toffee pudding (Knickers) plus lashings of wine and a roaring fire. Fab night, ate way too much and had a good giggle :)

A very busy, productive and enjoyable day.

Equine communion

2010-10-24T21:17:00.000+01:00

It's been a mixed weekend what with one thing and another and I've either been too busy or too tired to do anything with the boys until today. This is a bummer, what with daylight hours now being at such a premium, but can't be helped and I've learned the hard way that things done when feeling "meh" are at best uninspired. They're out all day anyhoo so it's not like they're cooped up in a stable.

The day dawned cold but sunny; Q first, my pipe and slippers man, shade of my heart, apple of my eye. I had thought he might be a bit lively, what with the cold and such, but no, energy conservation cranked up to max. We spent most of the session revising a more honest contact on the right rein, combined with more activity. He has learnt the lesson well and I felt better able to maintain it than previously. Saved any lateral work for afterwards and the test was the half-pass right, where often he'll tilt his head at the poll, but didn't this time, so that was great. A lovely ride.

Next Mr T. I'm still at the stage where I often make excuses for not riding him, to my chagrin, and as a result of this we have regressed a bit so that the softness we'd achieved in our trot work had farked orf. I knew today was going to be a good day; he had that look of soft, liquid vlvet in his eyes and was so chilled throughout the grooming and preps, none the worse for the rocket fuel haylage I've just started feeding. We had a good, considered warm up during which he seemed to be very much enjoying the stretching and gymnasticising work, and we had that mental connection that I'm only rarely in a place to participate in but which is quite, quite magical when it happens and makes everything else seem incidental.

He was just as lovely under saddle; calm and soft and attentive, the best he has felt for me in a long long time. He was just there with whatever I asked in the lateral work; LY, SI, HP, and best of all very nice and soft in the trot, enabling us to work through a load of school shapes and pay no attention whatsoever to the mares next door, the shooting in the woods or the chainsawing that Sid was doing in the wood pile. I could have ridden him all afternoon, beautiful beautiful boy.

It's done wonders to restore the balance in my head, which has been skewed for quite a while as a result of a lot of unnecessary bollocks, and it's brought me back full circle to a renewed appreciation for our beloved herd and how utterly worthwhile it all is even when at the lowest point it all seems so hard and relentless. The real lesson in it all is to remember to be in the moment wherever possible and never, ever allow work to get out of its box.

Howay the girls II

2010-10-22T21:28:00.001+01:00

Day off today (yay!) which began as usual at 5:30am feeding round then back to bed with a cup of tea and book, and a couple of hours' kip. Sid is away in Amsterdam on business; been really missing him but the one good thing is the lack of "cute snuffly noises" at night and a better than average sleeping pattern as a result.

Probably could have stayed in bed for rather longer but was dragged into a state of consciousness by Pheel, on the blower to apologise for not having been round as arranged last night to remove a bad bale of haylage, on account of being pinned under a car after the jack collapsed. Luckily he'd dragged a spare tyre underneath as a secondary precaution and was thus saved from serious injury. With Pheel, you never really know what mad thing has happened that means he hasn't been able to keep a prearranged appointment and I was once more glad I wasn't at immediate pains to text him about the staple gun and the pole in the garden as a result of his not turning up.

What better way to spend a day off than wandering about the homestead, inspecting fencing, the rate of grass growth, poo picking and removing the boys' rugs so that they could run and roll in their furry splendour, enjoying late autumnal sun. Splendid. Did a bit of shopping and back sharpish for a 2pm appointment with Robin the farrier.

I'm so proud of our girls and in awe once more at the splendour that is the temperament of the Lusitano horse. Today was only their second appointment, which was a bit delayed as Robin had hurt his back. Xacra has quite a big crack in the right hind hoof and I was concerned about it, so in the absence of anything else I was trying to apply some linseed oil. Her response? Front feet: concern but ok, if I approached very very calmly and lowered myself slowly towards her feet, and as long as Knickers was at her head providing calmness and moral support (Knickers incidentally is showing great promise with a very calm reassuring way with the girls). Back feet however, less easy and I ended up lashing the brush to the end of a long whip and using that, as the last thing I need is my head being kicked off. So I was trying not to think of what she'd do with Robin and whether she'd kick his head clean off.

We did Alfama first, who was less anxious, though nervous still, and this time she had a full trim and rasp all the way round. Having never been rasped before it was obviously a strange sensation but she was exceptionally good and accepted it all without murmur. Xacra was more nervous; really quite nervous in fact but again she stood and took it without any problems - even the right hind. Robin was ace - very calm and reassuring. And oh! the sexy feet that emerged from the process - they look like proper feet now and I am glad :) Must take photos.

In other news we have dispensed with 42 eggs today, which is bloody good going if you ask me. 36 have gone to the local farm shop for resale and I gave six to Pheel, just because.

Meanwhile Knickers and I are enjoying an evening of cider and good grub. I have just discovered Kopparberg premium cider with strawberry and lime - Jesus.

And it's only Friday - yay!

I blink and a month goes by

2010-10-18T13:16:00.000+01:00

So the big project is finished and in on time as specified; the feedback not so much well done as "why did you do it yourself; why didn't you get someone else to do it". Perhaps because it's the only fucking way I could get it in on time as specified! This may well have been the straw that broke the camel's back. How I haven't murdered a fellow commuter of late I have no idea. How my family haven't divorced me, I have no idea. It's really unhealthy and when you start to feel the stress manifesting itself in phyiscal symptoms, something has to give, as I did almost immediately after I knew the project was in a fit state to go live.

But enough about work. Things at the homestead are well and that is the most important thing. We've had Rui with us for the past few days and enjoyed some excellent sessions with the boys. I suffer from lack of motivation when doing everything alone especially when knackered after a long day at work, so it's nice to have someone to work with, apart from anything else. A few lightbulb moments consolidated and given me work to take forward. Need to clip them as they are well into their winter woollies.

The girls are very well although I am a bit worried about a large crack in Xacra's hoof. O ferradore coming on Friday so we'll see what can be done. Meanwhile I've been applying linseed oil to her feet - gently I might add as she is unaccustomed and unsure about humanoids kneeling by her feet, but getting a little better each day. For her right hind it's worse, I suspect because she's more leery about her right side generally, so I've lashed the brush to a long whip and am using that during the interim. Not done nearly as much as I should about picking up their feet. Bad mommy. Knickers has been helpign me and is showing great promise as a calm and compassionate being around the horses. Go Knickers!

The big news is we now have six chickens and are awash with eggs. They are fab :)

Week from hell

2010-10-03T09:58:00.001+01:00

This has been a tortuous week work-wise; we're all on our knees under the stain of it all and staggering about under the certain knowledge that it probably won't be good enough anyway. The physical signs of stress have been apparent for a few weeks now and that is a concern: not least for my fellow commuters. It's only my by now well-honed training in the art of forbearance that has kept the bodies from piling up around me; that and the realisation that, contrary to a great deal of evidence to the contrary, there aren't actually more irritating people around, it only feels like it. The last time I was so frequently boiling over with irritation, I was in my early 20s. Still, hopefully two of the biggest projects can be finished off next week, just in time for the next load of work to be piled on from a great height. I feel like Garfield in that cartoon when he's looking up and all you can see is his chops on the top of his head, presumably looking at the accompanying "WHY".

Meanwhile back at the ranch Knickers has been settling in and making herself very useful indeed as poo picking Queen and maker of horse dinners Extraordinaire.I've only managed perfunctory doings with the boys this week and didn't manage to do them at all yesterday, but we did get lots done (poo picking and reprising the rancid, sodden mess of the left side of the field shelter, which has suffered from all that rain. I spoke to Pheel about it, who had the marvellous idea that we use some of the giant pile of wood chips that he put in the picadeiro for us only last week. So my big task for the day was to clear out the straw and lay a deep covering of wood chips (9 barrows). I've yet to see what it looks like today but the great thing is that it's biodegradable, we have an inexhaustible supply, and can just keep adding to it. So this might be the answer to our problems. We didn't really want to put a permanent base down as that would mean not being able to move it around, and we bought a mobile one for just that reason.

Otherwise, we bought some solid poles to fence off areas of the girls' field, to give the reseeded area a chance to regrow, and it's now long very very green and lush. This is going to be very useful for pasture management. They do have quite a light footprint anyway, being small and unshod, although the area around the field shelter is best described as a quagmire. I'm really glad we opted to reseed with the more natural grasses, as although they take longer to establish they form a denser mat of roots and that helps the ground hugely. All the fields are looking quite decent given the amount of rain we've had and everyone being out 24/7, which is encouraging. I'm toying the the idea of cracking open the haylage but can't yet bring myself to wrestle with a large bale every day, trying to persuade it to part with bits of itself. Maybe there's a knack to it that I haven't yet discovered. I have armed myself with many hay nets, to help during the week.

Meanwhile, all the water butts are overflowing and we are wondering what we can do with all this water - thousands of litres of it. At worst we have a pump to drain it away into the ditch next to the road but it would be nice to reuse it. You can get some purifying tablets to use it as drinking water, which might be useful in the winter when the taps and pipes freeeze on the yard.

Today it's windy but at least not lashing down yet and I really must do something with the boys as the main priority. Off to shower and get on with it.

Peaks and troughs

2010-09-26T21:18:00.000+01:00

It's been a busy and deeply unsatisfying week at work despite our pulling together to get a lot of stuff finished. More than that is best left unsaid.

We did a faecal egg count on the horses at the beginning of the week; the results came back on Tuesday. Boys, fine: girls, suffering a high burden of red worm :( Clearly their previous regime was not effective - this got me to wondering just how large stud farms with bands of 100+ mares manage their routine ministrations. I spoke to the lab (Westgate, very helpful) and my vet practice before settling on a course of Panacur Equine Guard. With a heavy worm burden comes a risk of impaction during the post-treatment egestion process, so I wanted to be sure we minimsed any risk to the girls. I was quite disgusted really and couldn't wait to start the treatment but equally wanted to wait until we were around to keep an eye on them. They've started the course now (5 days) and so far so good.

Otherwise a busy weekend - just for a change.

Saturday: between us we did all the usual chores (shopping and such), built a chicken coop, took down all the old lights from the stables, worked the boys, poo picked, did some weeding, walked the pooch, drove 50 odd miles for dinner with Rob and Jo, and drove home again.

Today: Pheel came to empty the muck clamp (yay), usual yard duties then cooked up a whole series of yumminess including a leek and potato soup, a ragu and a mushroom risotto, all by lunch time :O Oh, and roasted a chicken.Worked the boys in the afternoon, for a miracle just before the heavens opened and down it came. Rather worryingly many of the water butts are already half full, which leads us to the inescapable conclusion that we probably need larger capacity. Staggering really given that we haven't had that much rain.

And now it's almost time to kick off the working week again

Throbbing

2010-09-19T07:31:00.000+01:00

That's what my body is doing right now, with tiredness. What I want to know is, is a different sort of busy as good as a rest? I suspect the answer to be "no" but it does serve as a reminder that while we do the one to be able to do the other, sometimes the sheer amount of STUFF that needs doing develops Eiger-like proportions, there's a shortage of hours in the day and the body starts remarking "fucking hell, are you sure?"

At work there's the headlong rush towards enrolment and the new intake of students; at home there's the headlong descent into the harsh reality of winter on a farm in the country with four horses to care for. At work there's the headlong rush towards go live for the new Helpdesk system; at home there's the project sheet of Things To Do Before Winter. I know, I know, we're barely scratching the surface of the autumn, but these things must be prepared for while the weather and the daylight allows it.

I was dog tired when I got home on Friday but determined to ride Q anyway around the shiny new cones. I only realised when I was on board that laying out cones in the dark is not conducive to setting them in a straight line and wondered what hope I had to ride one when I couldn't even walk one. The answer: not much.
Chinese takeaway and an earlyish night in, enabled because Knickers had doe the poo picking and prepared everyone's dinners.Yay Knickers!

Saturday consisted of the following:

7:30 (which constitutes a two hour lie in): get up, feed round, have a cup of tea. Go shopping. In this case it involved Tenterden, a bulging trolley in Waitrose and an accordingly capacious bill for my trouble. Can't believe how expensive food is at the moment. Stop off at farm shop, hardware store and feed merchant to be relieved of further funds. On the plus side we now own a melon baller, but we have no gas for the blow torch to finish the planned creme brulee. Change of plan required for menu later.

Back at 11:30, bacon butty. Poo pick the mares' field, lift the beds. Assemble and arrange the large number (18) of water butts that Sid has purchased to collect and recycle rainwater and assist with drainage, about the place. Dig out an array of pipes and old shit from behind the stables to facilitate the installation of four water butts. Put the old shit in the skip, store away what can be kept, instal the water butts. Encounter Biggest Spider Ever. Prepare and ride T. Prepare dinners and breakfasts; feed round and hay for the evening. Go to shop for alcohol. Take the pooch for a walk. Cook up a marvel of a meal to (a) celebrate Knickers' presence, and (b) commemorate the 40 year anniversary of Jimi Hendrix's death that went something like:

crispy prawns with rocket and lemon mayo
pan fried duck breast (free range, of course) with honey and spices, parisienne potatoes, glazed chantenay carrots, pak choi fried with garlic and a red wine jus
fruit salad (made by Knickers)

Meanwhile we have no hot water, ostensibly because those buggers at EDF were frigging around with the eletricity supply and ours went off on Thursday morning. We didn't know it at the time but this appears to have taken out some crucial component of our ability to create hot water at will and the electricians are coming around later to have a look. Arrrgghhhh. So while I might otherwise have soaked away at least some of the tiredness of my aching limbs with a nice hot bath, instead I am sitting here writing this while the body goes "fucking hell, are you sure?".

Today:'s plan: guttering, removal of old stable lights, finish off cabling/lnking up six water butts, ride both boys, poo pick, cook a few things for in the week and maybe, just maybe, sit on my arse for a bit, rocking quietly backwards and forwards and trying not to think about all the things I have to do at work this week.

An embarrasment of Johnsons

2010-09-14T21:29:00.000+01:00

I went up to deepest Shropshire at the weekend to collect my niece Knickers and all her Knickerly doings, in preparation for her final year at uni, when she will be staying with us and eating us out of house and home in return for some much needed help about the homestead.

The journey up there was crap and long and awash with rancid weather as it invariably is around Birmingham. I can only assume that there must be some notable geographical feature that predisposes the area to a higher than average rainfall, because every time, and I do mean every time I, or anyone else I know has the misfortune to drive through it, it's raining. It reminds me a bit of Sintra in Portugal in that regard, in that Sintra has characteristics (mountains, by the sea) which predispose it to clouds rolling down the hillsides and enveloping anyon driving along the coastal road in thick fog at a moment's notice. But while Sintra has the benefits of sun, sea, mountains, warmth and being in the hallowed land awash with Lusitanos and the best coffee, cake and horses found anywhere, Birmingham is none of those things and is merely a blot on the landscape whose only function is to rain on people like me as we drive through.

Anyway. We had a fabulous farewell party for Knick Knack that involved the combined bodyweight of everyone in food, some nice wine and lots of siilly photos, finished off with an emotional farewell of the sort that only the Johnsons can do, and a path beaten back to deepest Kent to begin the next phase of her time at Uni. And for a miracle, it was (a) sunny, and (b) not a traffic jam in Birmingham. Who knew these things were even possible? Not me.

We got home about 1ish and the rest of the day was spent doing horsey doings, poo picking and such while Knickers unpacked and got her flip flops under the spare bed. The boys finished off putting a gale break around the arena, I worked both horses in hand, Knickers and I poo picked the boys' fields and then we all collapsed over a nice cous cous, knackered.

This week, it's almost as if there's a giant pixie in the house, cleaning it while we're out at work. Every day I come back something is cleaner than when I left it! On the flip side, fruit is disappearing at an alarming rate :)

Paddock prunings

2010-09-09T22:36:00.000+01:00

I may have mntioned that I arranged with Pheel to come and top, harrow and resed the paddocks on Wednesday. I may also have mentioned that Pheel is a great bloke whose only real vice is a tendency towards the optimistic when it comes to time frames. Determined to get the paddocks done on schedule, I took the precaution of contacting him beforehand to remind him that I still had that handy pole in the garden and some rusty nails with which to nail his bollocks to it should it come to pass that for whatever reason he couldn't make it. I only use this vilest of threats infrequently, lest he begin not to take it seriously; it lurks there in the back of the kitchen drawer full of random useful bits and bobs for when I really need it.

Meanwhile Rui had worked the boys on Monday and departed for fairer shores on Tuesday, so I was pleased to be anticipating an evening of doing very little after a very busy day at the orifice. Pheel arrived as I got home from work and we formulated an action plan, where it rapidly became apparent that the mares would have to come in during the day, which of course necessitated me laying a bed and doing water and haynets for them, then getting up even earlier than usual to bring them in before heading off to work. So much for my evening off.

As a result of this I can say with some authority that it is tactically a good move to drink a large cup of tea just before bed the night before, to facilitate an achingly, eye-poppingly full bladder with squamous cells at full stretch to assist the waking process (well, not so much assist as nuke). The downside is that it necessitates what might be described as "the Max Wall jig" in front of the bog, but you can't have everything.

I can also advise, in aid of those who might for whatever reason still be asleep at that time, that it is bloody dark at 5:15am and it's best to make more tea and attend to the array of hungry felines before venturing outside to bring in mares who are (a) unaccustomed to being harassed at such an hour, and (b) definitely unaccustomed to being brought into a brightly lit stable.

Q of course, in that unerring way that he has, somehow knew something was occurring and was on hand to yell and whicker repeatedly throughout the bringing in process, which was nice. If you're reading this Dan, my apologies for the unseemly noise at such an ungodly hour! Once in, the girls quickly settled (well they are Lusos after all) and off I went to work.

Upon my return to the homestead some hours later, bog eyed and bleary, there occurred what can only be described as biblical quantities of rain and both Sid and I got soaked through to the knicker elastic as we attended to the variety of chores that needed doing - moving the chain harrow, getting rugs on two very soggy boys, turning the girls out and watching them put on a truly fine aerobatic display, mucking out two very shitty stables, feeding round and so on.

But the paddocks have been pruned and the garden pole can remain unfettered by famer gonads for a while longer.

Busy is not the word

2010-09-07T22:09:00.000+01:00

It's been so busy I've had neither time nor energy for any blogging. Really, ridiculously busy. Busy as buggery. Busy as a really busy thing. Bloody busy, really.

Friday: working from home for the dentist in the afternoon; Q just needed a tidy up but it looks as though T might benefit more from being seen just once per year but to have a power session as he tends towards the formation of transverse ridges, so I think we will try that. Plan for the mares to be looked at next time as well, as the vet will be there for sedation so we can see how it goes and then see whether sedation would be needed - or alternatively waited until the babies are born. I need to find out whether it is safe to sedate a pregnant mare.

I had a lesson with Rui which was interesting in that it followed on from some stuff down at Dan's clinic, focusing on forward and straight with transitions on a straight line. Sounds easy doesn't it. What I learnt was that we haven't done nearly enough work on transitions on a straight line and as a result these were quite crap. So the focus was on developing exercises to address this and Rui left me with some homework for Saturday. He also schooled T but I wasn't able to watch.So much weeding, so little time. And if it's not weeding it's poo picking or one of a thousand different chores to do.

Saturday: usual domestic chores followed by a great deal of weeding. Like a fool I have decided to manually remove a lot of weeds from the paddocks rather than spraying and having to keep horses off/risk delaying re-seeding and I've been hard at it for what seems like WEEKS but is probably only about three days. Loads of crap growing but it's very satisfying seeing the paddocks slowly recovering and starting to grow good grass where previously they couldn't get a look in. Problem is though I've become a bit obsessive about it and get to the point where when I close my eyes all I can see is weeds - lol.

Rode Q and worked on our homework, which went much better and was a productive session. We did struggle on the right rein riding the three quarter line as he wants to edge back to the track and I am not strong on my left side, so had a few gos at that until I got my outside aids working and finished there once we could get it reliably.

Then Sid decided he simply must have some weatherboard to fix the stables in time for next weekend when his friend is down and that it had to be done today. Bottom line wasI had to hot foot it over to ye olde timber shoppe to get said weather board. Land Cruiser wouldn't start; arghh. Jump started, stepped on it and got to Staplehurst in record time just in time to purchase said weatherboard and drive back very gingerly with it sticking out of the sun roof and wondering if that was legal.

More weeding and poo picking; gave T the day off as I just ran out of time. Made two not one tagines and crashed on the sofa. May have begun dribbling.

Sunday: got up to find both girls flat out in the field :wub:. Good job they're so FAT or I wouldn't have seen them in the long grass.

Weeding, lots and lots of weeding. And poo picking. And walking the dog. Rui got back from Cambs about 2 and we had a lady due for a 3pm lesson. She has a nice Luso mare who is quite green and needed a few lines drawn in the sand, so it was interesting to watch Rui work her in hand and then under saddle. Brought Q in to prep for my 4pm; they called to each other and the mare proceeded to throw everything she had at Rui, who resolutely sat there and worked her through it after the fashion of the professional rider.

Opted to warm up Q in the picadeiro - first time for him in there since the girls arrived and he was very good indeed. Next thing I saw Binky and Jimbob (the meehoo) wandering way too close to the road and was in a quandary wondering what to do - in the end tied Q to the fence, grabbed Jim and took him indoors (and Binky followed) while Q stood like the perfect gentleman waiting for me to finish the rescue mission. Ahhh.

My lesson next and Q was extremely good even while watched by not two but three mares. We worked on exercises requiring me to use my leg more effectively and reprised our work on transitions on a straight line - much much better and brownie points for having done my homework. Q was ace - so very very proud of him. Especially as it turns out he really likes bay mares :)
Rui went off to teach a couple of doors down while I started poo picking T's field while T followed me around at close quarters, inspecting every move I made. I love that. He's such an unreserved flirt with those big brown eyes and that soft velvety muzzle. Got him prepped for Rui as time was running short, and warmed him up as Rui arrived back home. Q was charging about in his field like a man possessed but T took very little notice other than to come out with a slightly better trot .Rui got on and demonstrated a couple of things and was just working up to changes when Q came barrelling up to the fence, ears back, teeth bared to try and have a pop at T. Rui brought T to a halt, they just stood there and cantered off again, which was ace. I wish I was Portuguese. Perhaps as a result of this T started making face at the mares again while Rui was riding but he just carried on and said "Ay!" when needed and that was that - no drama and no interruption to the session. Very much enjoyed watching that.

Rui has now departed and the boys have had a day off. I of course have had no such luxury. The mares have to come in tomorrow (!) as Pheel is coming to harrow, top and reseed the fields - yay! Meanwhile work is stupid busy and it's a constant irritation how when the pressure is really on with projects coming out of every orifice sometimes the only thing a person is at all capable of doing is sitting and staring stupidly into space, so awash with tasks that one is rendered temporarily incapable of anything at all. I think the only thing to do in such a situation is to begin with a small, relatively easy thing then freewheel madly on the momentum that was created, trusting to luck, good judgement and a certain quality of malleability in the laws of space and time to get it all done. That and a wodge of coffee.

Dressage camp days 2 and 3

2010-09-02T21:18:00.000+01:00

Day 2
Group polework session in the morning. Some interesting exercises including a corner fan of poles, SI then HP, which never really flowed for us, a fact which I put down to general crapness on my part. Again the emphasis on more energy. I noticed that too much too soon and I lose my balance and block him, so although I appreciate we need to find a more forward gear I am going to work on it with some care because the last thing I want is to cause tension and so on. Q was great in the group lesson, which may or may not have had something to do with the syringe of Carl Hester calmer I emptied down his throat an hour earlier.

Lunchtime Alex did a demo of M61 to show us all how it was done and we all got to judge.

In the afternoon, a lesson on test riding with Dan. Unfortunately, no sooner had we ridden in than the heavens let loose with what felt very much like hail, and something approaching a gale with almost horizontal wind and a great deal of unpleasantness. Q was refusing to turn into it and to be fair I didn't want to either, but in the end I had to turn him and get on with it. I could barely hear Dan due to the wind and we didn't get as much as we might have from it because of that, but again forwards and evenness very much the thing, keeping him connected through the movements - I know I do tend to drop him or at least not support as much as I should. Got soaked through to the knicker elastic. Rui had arrived in the afternoon and came to watch too, but got to hide in the judge's hut.

Day 3
Lesson with Alex in the morning, working on relaxation, forward, suppleness. Now Q is a very supple horse which he is masterful at using in all sorts of crafty evasions but with the degree of forward requested we couldn't really get the stretch and suppleness that I know he has so I concluded that it was probably a bit too much too soon for where we are (that is to say, in pipe and slippers mode). I do know though that I have to learn to ride something other than said pipe and slippers trot in mitigation so this is going to need some work on my part (and his). Some really good exercises, based on ribboning in many ways, change of bend ie SI to renvers down the long side, and switching between LY and HP on a diagonal. I do that latter one with Rui but he'll have me doing LY in one direction then HP in the other. Doing it all on the one diagonal was a bit much for us with the forward as well (!) but with someone a bit further along the evolutionary scale that would be an excellent suppling exercise. We also concentrated on riding into the corners and straightening before asking for medium gaits and that was really good. Riding into corners and using them to set up movements is something I know in theory but never seem to get around to doing.

Afternoon: re-ride the test. I made sure I had it off by heart to get me through the "oh fuckety doodads" moment and in the warm up concentrated on things like riding the corners, riding halts and working to medium transitions (or more correctly, our approximation thereof). By the time the test came we were both running on fumes tbh but got round it without making errors at least - very enjoyable to ride knowing I knew the test and had more brain space to think about how I was going to ride movements rather than just thinking "oh fuckety doodads". Our mediums were very flat, there really was nothing there at all in fact but we got 64.13% for our efforts. I was absolutely thrilled to bits with this :) It's our best ever score in our long campaigning history of four tests (two prelims, a novice and an elementary) and he was awesome, not only in the test but in the group situation away from home, just standing quietly with me waiting to go in, so proud of him.

It's given me the urge to get out and do some comps so I really need to get my arse in gear and arrange something.soon.

Dressage camp day 1

2010-08-28T22:41:00.000+01:00

7am: up and about, clean boots and tack. 1st lesson 9:55am.
9:55am: Jesus Christ. Q is a bag of beans, a complete fart. Ok so it's been a while since we were out, but is that any reason to make such a fuss. Indubitably, yes.
10:05 (or thereabouts): ride E43. Jesus Christ. Completely messed it up by dint of the fact that Dan's arena, parallel to ours, has A at the far end, whereas we have C. Net result? Both leg yields messed up, in amongst other areas. Me bad. Pretty pleased with (a) the fact that I enjoyed it regardless, (b) the change rein in canter and counter canter, (c) the medium trot and (d) the free walk on a long rein.
10:20 or so: Back to the ranch. Need to remonstrate quite strongly with Q who was appalling at the sight of other horses on the yard: yelling, weaving and worst of all scant regard for mother's personal space. Rectified, and turned out.
10:30 onwards: went back to check out a bit of the clinic but was weighed down by the large amounts of things to do at home, so beat a path back to the ranch.
11:00am onwards: much poo picking and weeding. 5 barrows of poo; at least an hour's weeding. There are big piles of weeds strewn about the paddocks, like small green hillocks of wrongness. Am obsessed.
15:15 track Q down and administer a tube of Carl Hester's finest calmer. He stands looking askance at me, clearly thinking "what was that all about, that random syringe?"
15:30 Prepare for second ride of the day, lesson with Dan. Q is serenity itself, on a magnesium high.
16:00 ish go next door for lesson. Q much calmer. Ride with ear piece for first time. Really, really good lesson. It has made me realise how much we bumble and faff deep within our agreed comfort zone when left to our own devices and how much I have missed having someone to really kick our butts. Predominantly the work was on activation of hindlegs, evenness of contact, straightness, energy. There are fundamental things we really need to get to grips with and I thoroughly enjoyed it even though I was a red-faced sweaty bastard by the end of it :)
17:00 ish: bring in T and work him in hand. He was awesome and I could swear he enjoyed his session as much as I did. Must get on with it and ride him tomorrow.
18:00 ish: evening doings, shopping and walk the pooch. Dash back with steaks and salad to cook. Sid is unwell and therefore indisposed to be of practical assistance.
19:30 ish: just finish up cooking steaks when SMS comes in from Dan to say they're just starting to watch the test videos. Arrgghhh. Wolf steak down at record speed and hotfoot it next door.Very interesting evening - it's never as forward as it feels, for one thing, meaning that although the canter and change rein to counter canter wasn't at all bad, the other bits I thought were good weere not nearly impulsive enough (!), especially the medium canter which felt really good, in fact was a working canter. Net result, 56%. On the plus side it will be easy to do better if I can just stick to the test and not go off piste, although in fairness I feel I should have got a couple of "creative" bonus points for the leg yield zig zag to correct the second error. Q retains his sexpot demeanour notwithstanding. Need to get rid of that beer belly though.

Tomorrow: group polework lesson and in the afternoon a lesson on test riding, both of which I am looking forward to very much. Neither Q nor I will know what has hit us.

Legs: Ow
Q: Jesus!
Me: Yay!

Long weekend

2010-08-27T22:39:00.000+01:00

Marvellous, a long weekend stretching ahead in that stretchy way that we've discussed before. Already a day of it gone and what have I achieved? Shopping, weeding, cleaning, acquiring the details of the dressage test for tomorrow's clinic (E43), learning and riding said test, tracking down an errant meehoo, reprising the rug room, sweeping and preparing for the arrival of a number of horses tomorrow for the clinic, and finally sitting down. Ah yes, and discussion with two of Pheel's colleagues about the practicalities of erecting the arena mirror - rather a number of them as it turns out, meaning that it couldn't be done today after all.

At least on the work front the project is back under control now that we've got the authentication and GDB-related issues sorted out, which is jut as well because I was about to implode in a mammoth stress attack. However, luckily there are plenty of other things to be stressing about instead.

The forecast for the rest of the weekend is largely horsey.

Breaking News

2010-08-23T22:04:00.000+01:00

Xacra finally allowed me near her again tonight (after making sure there wasn't a farrier secreted nearby), then really let her guard down for the first time ever to enjoy some scritchies, first on one side of her neck then both sides simultaneously, with lip wobbling and everything! She either let me press my face against her neck to give her a kiss or was so wrapped up in her scritchies that she didn't notice :wub:

Not only that, she nickered at me a little later, but I think that's because she thought I had food.

Worked both boys tonight so their holiday is finally over. T came in to see what was what when he saw me with the head collar, while Q galloped off, bucking. T has dropped a bit of weight and top line since the mares arrived so I'm going to up his feed, and Q looks like he's about to give birth, so the pitiful offering he gets with his supps will be halved and his workload upped. In spite of this, Q and Xacra keep looking at one another, and I imagine the conversation goes something like this.

X: "I like the look of you. Who might you be?"
Q: "I like the look of you too. Fancy a shag?"
Me: "Have a good look guys, you'll be shagging come spring".

Weekend in Guernsey

2010-08-22T21:25:00.000+01:00

We flew out on Thursday lunch time to Guernsey in order to attend the wedding of our friends Jo and Rob. It's been quite a wrench leaving the homestead for the first time, but one of those occasions when the head might be flapping but the body knew it was all going to be ok. In spite of arriving some two hours early to get some shopping done, we still managed to end up hoofing it across the airport to the gate, to arrive in a sweating, unnecessary heap having spent too long in the duty free. Doesn't matter what we do, we always seem to end up doing that. It was a bit :O seeing the little plane with propellors and everything - the flight itself was a bit bumpy but otherwise ok. Could have been worse. At least it wasn't as bad as the famous Death Flight of 2006 or whenever it was when we actually thought we were going to die on the way back from Golega one year.It was only the fact that we found ourselves in the impromptu position of looking after a young boy called Jorge that we didn't give vent to our base urge to PANIC.

The weather was forecast to be really rather shitty over the weekend but in fact was really rather nice.We had a bit of time to ourselves before the evening doings, which was to say the expected hen and stag dos. Bit awkward for me as I didn't know anyone other than Jo but also at least there wasn't the usual tacky hen stuff based on (not so) comedy cocks and such. For my part I probably quaffed a glass of wine or two too many an ended up hugging the bog in the early hours, which is always nice.

There was some concern as to whether Sid could keep Rob in a semi-reasonable state on the stag do but in fact he surprised everyone by doing exactly that; he's not ordinarily known for his restraint. They all got up early and went for a swim in the bay next morning, which was even more remarkable, while I had a wander about the town and hit the shops.

The wedding ceremony started at 3pm so plenty of time to arse around relaxing and getting ready - which for me involved among other things dancing around in agonies trying to pierce a new hole in my left ear. Owwwww. As in some many circumstances, persistence is the key.

I fully expected to start blarting as soon as I saw Jo in her dress, and I wasn't disappointed. I think I must have some sort of faulty valve or duct somewhere that causes me to mush uncontrollably at there slightest opportunity. Jo looked stunning and it was the fact that they were both obviously so ecstatic that did it for me.

There then followed what can only be described as a hike up hill and down dale and through a lovely walled garden to the reception, which is easier said than done while wearing what Sid so fondly refers to as "fuck me shoes". Lukily I had a pair of back up flip flops which came out very shortly after our arrival. It turns out that there's only so long you can wear a pair of fuck me shoes, especially when that time frame includes an unexpected hike of about 30 minutes' duration.

Poor Sid was bricking it about having to do his best man speech and it didn't matter how many times I told him it was brilliant, he was still bricking it. As it turned out, it really was brilliant! I was so, so proud of him as it's not easy standing up to (a) talk, (b) be funny and (c) strike the right balance of all things in front of 80 people but he bloody did it, bless him :)

It was a really good night, some highlights of which were the couple's first dance, which began is the usual cheesy smoochy number but turned into an excellent jive to Paulo Nutini, and a rather random, unexpectedly deep conversation with a Marine about religion towards the end of the night.

Next day there was a barbecue laid on in a meadow, ostensibly for a load of people who hadn't made it to the reception, so more grub and loitering with a large crowd of people whom we barely knew. I overheard a conversation which made me wonder if I'd fallen down a rabbit hole and found myself in Planet Daily Mail; one posh old bloke was talking about never having become accustomed, while living in Nigeria or Nairobi or somewhere else in Africa beginning with an N, to (and I quote) "having to queue up with the natives" in the bank and wondering why said bank couldn't have had a back door or something for the white people.

I expect it was a jest. It must have been, right?

Later Sid and I went out for what was expected to be a quiet meal a deux but instead we ran into some people from the wedding, had a couple of beers with them and then went out for a meal, during which a number of surprising things happened. Sid, still high from his triumphant best man speech, managed to blag a table for 8 by insisting on speaking to the manager (also French) where prior attempts had failed, sent his steak back when it wasn't quite blue enough, and then returned his (uncooked) creme brulee, after a long history of rather English-ly never sending any thing back, not wanting to make a fuss. I think the worm has turned! Dog only knows what will happen next. The mind, quite frankly, refuses to boggle.

This morning we awoke to news that there were no flights off the island due to adverse weather (fog). Arses. It's one thing going away but quite another not being able to get back when planned. We got to the airport anyway and were really rather lucky, as literally within minutes the fog cleared and our flight was back on. Finally got home around 4.30 and immediately set about doing the rounds seeing the horses, letting out the pooch and the meehoos and generally starting the long process of catching up. In practical terms this equates to approximately five barrows of poo picked, four litter trays cleaned, the dog walked and supper made. The suitacases remain resolutely unopened on the patio.

Back to work tomorrow, hoping the sore throat and general fug isn't going to develop into anything further, while Sid has a full blown rancid snot thing.

Howay the girls :)

2010-08-18T15:58:00.000+01:00

So D-Day has arrived; dawn has broken and the farrier cometh. Last time he came the boys were :ahem: lively but all was calmness itself today and I got my first trimming lesson. Robin has very kindly left me a rasp and a hoof knife and next time he has a spare set of pincers he'll leave me those too. This is good because I had no idea just how expensive some of these things can be. No intention of doing much myself but if needed it's there.

On to the girls. I had no idea what to expect really other than it might only be introductions today, as they are very wary of men. But in fact, Robin got them both trimmed, all round! Amazing. They were nervous, yes, but Robin was fantastic, very quiet, talking to them all the time but obviously confident - indeed a lot more confident than I would have been - and they trusted to the situation enough to stand there and allow it to happen. I really didn't imagine Robin would be able to get to the hind feet today but in hindsight I hadn't reckoned to that fabulous, indomitable Luso temperament. Also, I had thought it was not going to be possible before I was reliably picking their feet up myself, but again with hindsight it made more sense for Robin to do this as he really knows what he's doing and has the confidence of longstanding experience that horses really respond to. He hasn't done a full trim amd tidy, just taken the excess off, which is enough for now.

So very proud of the girls, and what a relief to have all that extra foot off! :hail: Robin, and his excellent ways, without which none of it would have been possible.

Equal parts arrggghhh and awww

2010-08-17T22:11:00.001+01:00

Note to self: when (a) you know that there are numerous wasps in the feed room and (b) that little inner voice pipes up that it mightn't be the best idea to put your hand in a bag to pull out some dried carrots but you got ahead and do it anyway, it's best to LISTEN TO THAT VOICE. Othwerwise you might end up feeling a searing pain in your palm and open it to find that one of the little yellow brethren has deposited its sting deep within as payback for your foolishness. Ow.

I did what I did that time I got a hornet in my pants (well ok, jim jams) and what any reasonable person would do under the circumstances: I sat and waited for a bit to see if I would swell up with anaphylaxis and die; didn't, so carried on, albeit rather more gingerly than I ordinarily would.

I couldn't resist a bit of weeding in spite of the throbbing; it's really getting to me and I can't walk past them even when doing earlies without relieving a few of them of their livelihood. Q came to help and insisted on standing right next to me, inspecting each and every weed pulled and then delicately pulling at the shoots of grass freed from their midst - albeit momentarily - by my actions. He then stood over me and whiffled at my head until I got the message and gave him his scritchies, during which he reciprocated by whiffling at my feet. Such a sweet boy :)

The meehoos accompanied me around the yard tonight - the little girl tends not to be so adventurous as the others and stays closer to home, but Binky, Ted and little Jimbob (as we may end up calling him) all came running up the yard with me, along with Dora of course, sniffed around in the feed room while I sat and waited to see if I was going to swell up and die, then accompanied me whilst I poo picked the mares' field, leaping about in the long grass and play fighting. I love those Rach Dolittle moments; they are in fact one of my favourite things in the world, being pursued about the homestead by a plethora of furry bodies, all enjoying the companionship of the moment just as much as me. These are truly halcyon days for the cats; having been snipped, wormed and generally MoT'd, they are clearly feeling good and enjoying each others' company. Binky is looking completely lush; gone is the lankiness and the slightly greasy coat, to be replaced with shine and curves. Ted is also doing a good job of charming Sid with his magnanamous ways and sterling parental capabilities. Meanwhile Jimbob and little Rosie (I think that's what we'll end up calling her) are a riot of fun and youth and cuteness. All topped off Jimbob falling asleep on my lap tonight, with his raucous purr and his cute little rabbit feet. Love it.

Things are proceeding apace with the mares and soon enough we may have to have a conversation about personal space; tonight I have discovered that two mares, one smallish woman and a poo bucket all milling about in a 12 x 11' field shelter is just that bit too crowded and something has to give - it ain't gonna be me. In our walking/leading session tonight Xacra again made progress in discovering the art of lifting a foreleg when asked without then walking off, and very nearly completely dropped her guard with some poll scritchies, but just clawed herself back in time. Her demeanour changes a little every day and I'm pretty sure it's accelerating now. Both of them are much less anxious now that they are accustomed to daily contact bearing food and scritchies. It's no wonder they end up very reserved when living in a large band of 100+ mares because it would be very difficult to have any 1:1 time with any one individual under those circumstances, as they are invariably in Portugal. But it's good for us in that it's very rewarding to go through that familiarisation experience with them.

That's two, possibly three awwws, but the extent of the arrggghhh counterbalances them to the nearest micron, which should give a reasonable idea just how much the sodding hand is throbbing. I'm aware that I have the pain threshold of a flea, but Gordon bloody Bennett. The application of vinegar and an anti-histamine tablet has helped somewhat so I may make it through til morning.

Hitch, weeding and smeg

2010-08-16T22:14:00.002+01:00

I've just spent a pleasant half hour reading some of Christopher Hitchens' notes on Facebook. Man, the guy can WRITE. Planet-sized intellect notwithstanding, it's just such fabulously constructed stuff. Even if the content is not something I would ordinarily read, not being the most political of animals, his writing makes it all much more stimulating than it would ever be otherwise. Hitch, you rock.And that's before you get started on the pope, or Mel Gibson.

And now back to our normal programming: that is to say, some sort of hellish cross between Farmer's Weekly and How To Be an IT Manager in 10 Steps You Thought Were Easy But Turned Out To Be A Bit Tricksy.

This weekend it's all been about weeding. Lots and lots of weeding. It got to the stage where, when I closed my eyes, all I could see was a snapshot of the little tendrilly fuckers sprawling out across the pasture. No wonder the grass was struggling to break through with all that going on. I was at it for hours and managed to clear a quarter of the smallest (but most affected) paddock, a feat which translated to roughly four barrows full of weeds, a number of thistle-related minor injuries, a bite from something nasty and some moderately sore triceps. It's addictive though and I find myself eyeing up the remaining insurgents with something approaching desperation, in spite of the fact that my hands are bleeding and I can barely move a muscle. We've got a wedding to go to at the end of the week so I'm a little more conscious of the state of my hands than I otherwise would be, and slapping on a bit of hand cream at the end of the evening doesn't really cut it when said hands would give a badger's arse a run for its money in the roughness stakes and there are layers of good, honest dirt embedded at a cellular level in the knuckles of my left hand. I noticed that today while sat in a meeting next to the second most senior person in the institution, discussing what to do about teaching rooms.

It was an interesting dichotomy between him, the resplendent professional with his nice suit and his clean nails and general impeccable presentation, and my with my knuckles, my second hand Next suit off ebay and mare smeg under my nails. I have learned from Sid that there are certain types of people who pay attention to these things; professional types, mostly, so as a result I spent the rest of the meeting with my left hand either under the desk or curled into a fist to disguise the filth, while giving thanks to all that is holy that the right hand was pretty much ok and resolving to buy a nail brush at the earliest possible opportunity. It's not like I hadn't tried to get the smeg off, it's just that it was particularly resilient. French smeg, then, sitting there, arms folded, going "Non".

Meanwhile Xacra has enjoyed her first head rub and is learning that there might be a point to humans after all.
F-2 days. Not looking hopeful for the farrier, unless we throw her and truss her, but I'm pretty sure that wouldn't do the slow build up of trust any good.

A day of firsts and unusual doings

2010-08-14T23:04:00.000+01:00

God it's nice to have a lie in on a Saturday after a busy week.

So a number of firsts today worthy of note.

We're going to a wedding next week and for the occasion I have purchased an LK Bennett dress. This is well outside my usual frame of reference and one I could become accustomed to but mustn't. The only ones who wear designer clobber in our house are the horses, as is the correct way of things. Said dress arrived this morning and is very nice indeed.

In order to get the removable partition in the field shelter that we wanted (ie one that is not solid all the way to the top) we ended up with a new design that only had kick boards on one side. Sid therefore spent much of the morning devising a way add chipboard to the other side of the partition, which involved taking the partition down and nailing it on in three bits before putting it back up again. For my part I de-weeded inside the shelters and otherwise prepped for the much anticipated straw bed installation before going off to de-smeg myself in preparation for the next unusual doing of the day - the hairdresser. Oh yes.

See, I hate going to he hairdresser, so I tend not to do it. And unlike the dentist, all this sort of avoidance tactic does in the way of consequencs is develop a tendency towards very long hair, and that's what scrunchies are for. It's all that pointless conversation about holidays (or mobile phones, as I noticed today, and the intricacies of setting the speed dial options) that does it. However, fortune was with me as I got a young girl (there exists the real possibility that I've reached the age where hairdressers and policemen all look young this should not be discounted) who really only wanted to get the job done and not talk pointless bollocks, so that suited me just fine.

Naturally enough I have the worst hair for what I most want, which is just a little bit of body. If I am to achieve this however I must go beyond my comfort zone in terms of length, and that is something I am just not ready for. I think Sid thought I was a wuss but was secretly pleased I didn't come home with a skinhead.

We put the beds down for the girls and took the pooch for a walk - blissful in the woods, all fresh after rainfall and with sun shining down through the trees creating a number of beautiful peaceful scenes - wish I'd taken the camera. A day off for the boys principally because the day was rammed and I ran out of time.

Binky caught a baby bunny and brought it back - alive :( - for the meehoos. Tis what mother cats do of course and the natural order of things, but tricky for a sap like me. Said bunny somehow escaped and took refuge **for most of the afternoon** under a pile of railway sleepers while Ted sat on the first watch. Next thing, Binky had it in the garden again and it looked uninjured but deep in shock, so I took it off her and put it in a cat basket and covered it to let the poor thing try to recover a bit if it could. But no, it died a short while later. Good on the one hand as natural bunny control and there really are plenty more where that one came from but sad for the individual. At least it died quietly in the box rather than being tossed about by a number of cats.My farming friends would think I was some sort of fuckwit, not least because the whole purpose of cats on farms as far as most people are concerned is one of pest control and people spend a lot of tme, effort and money keeping down bunny populations to stop them digging their warrens in paddock and risking horses' legs, among other things. A fool, but an honest fool I remain - a bit like Peregrin Took looking into the stone of Orthanc, only taller and with less furry feet.

this and that

2010-08-13T23:10:00.000+01:00

I should have known it was going to happen this morning even though I reminded myself not to forget last night; I forgot to poo pick the mares' field shelter when I went out to do what I fondly call "earlies" at 5:45am, and had to go back out there post-shower, dressed for the office on the top half and the farm on the lower half, resplendent in a nice little black blouse, jogging bottoms and wellies respectively. I quite enjoy the juxtaposition of being a complete scruffy article at home and having to make more of an effort at work - though even then in my case it's less the Nicola Farhi suit and more a second hand Next suit off Ebay.

I wouldn't ordinarily be poo picking their field shelter at that hour in the morning on a school day, but today I felt it was warranted on account of the fact that Chart Stables were coming to change the non-removable partition for a removable one, so that when the girls are ready to pop next spring, we will have a nice capacious area in which they can do so. This has now been done and I can't say enough about Chart - they've been excellent. Our next task - which I would have done tonight had I not been so bone numbingly weary - will be to weed the area where the shelter sits and put down a nice bed of straw. These are the sort of jobs that make having horses such an eminently rewarding thing: even the certain knowledge that their lovely new straw bed will be defiled within moments cannot take away the momentary yet all-encompassing sense of fulfilment at seeing them wandering in there and happily browsing over it for the very first time, then perhaps standing fetlock deep in it while enjoying a nice bit of hay. It's best not to spend too long considering how the next time you see it there'll be poo and hay all mixed in and how you're the poor sap that has to try and make it all nice again.

All of this is eminently more satisfying than wrestling with the implementation of a new IT system, as I am having to do at the moment. WHY everything has to be such a royal pain in the arse defeats me. So LDAP doesn't have all the info we need to pull into it (it's a new Helpdesk system) in terms of user location and such, so we must perforce use our general database and get the stuff in via ODBC. Only thing is it's a Firebird database and doesn't understand SQL so there's some fuckery needed to get that sorted, necessitating the reliance on others to get it working. The server needs to be on the domain (I'm not sure whether the fact that this is news to me is evidence of my technical inadequacies or whether it really should have been mentioned earlier; it could just as easily be either) and this too might be problematic due to server OS version and network infratructure "incompatibilities" which I had understood would only be likely to cause an issue were we to attempt to set up network shares, which we're not. So two days of training and brain overload finished today not with a nice little cherry on top of the cake but a steaming pile of particular effulgent effluent, a substance which has perhaps first passed through the digestive system of a polecat only to be expelled at speed all over the top of this hitherto relatively straightforward and pleasant albeit capacious project - a bit like having a nice bun only to discover that it's fully of candied peel, or sultanas. WHY. There are those people who enjoy these challeges but me, I'm not one of them. It was this aspect of myself that led me to conclude that I'm not and never will be a real techie, cos I just want stuff to work, and so I became a manager.

The whole thing was almost adequately offset by the fact that the trainer had a slightly hysterical giggle that was exactly reminiscent of Herbert Lom's excellent Inspector Dreyfuss in the Pink Panther films. I did wonder afterwards if he wondered why I was grinning at him so much and whether I ought to begin practising the phrase "'ave you got a rrrrheum" in a terrible faux French accent, or whether Kato was going to burst out of the stationary cupboard and karate chop me upside the head.

Quick update

2010-08-12T22:26:00.000+01:00

Well it's been a marvellous week for a number of reasons, but mainly because Sid has been out each evening on the yard pursuing our new mantra of movement being the key. This has resulted in an embarrassment of poo picking assistance, which is also good for a number of reasons including (a) non-demanding time with the girls, who are really Very Wary Indeed of blokes, and (b) less poo picking for me. It's so much nicer to be out there together doing the horses and keeping tabs on why it is we are doing this.

Since T's last wild man episode I have changed tactics a bit. I had noted that his response was escalating in line with movement (ie much more rancid face in canter even than in trot, and it was quite rancid enough for most purposes in trot) so I thought I know, I'll take movement out of the equation and see how we do with that. We did a nice stretchy warmup a couple of evenings ago at the other end of the arena while the girls of course were mooching close to the fence. Once he was relaxd and attentive to my satisfaction I walked him in hand gradually closer to them, assking only for him to keep his attention on me and not to do any unpleasantness of the face, and he managed that very well in much closer proximity , so well pleased with that.

Tonight Sid was working late and T came in with a gleam in his eye (more of a glitter) that I really didn't trust, so I went and put the girls in the shelter so we could have a trouble-free session as I wasn't really up for dealing with half a ton of very antsy stallion this evening. Back to his usual lovely self, very calm and attentive and a good session, finishing with some piaffe in hand.

Meanwhile the girls are doing well and we are making slow but steady progress. I've taken to leading Xacra around and doing feely leggy in the middle of the field, and she finds that better. Alfama is revealing herself to be one very sweet mare and once she gains confidence she's going to be awesome. God knows how long it will take to achieve our aim but we are moving in the right direction.

The meehoos have been going out in the evening for their constitutional while we can keep an eye on them, and it's the sweetest thing in the world seeing the family group (that's Binky, Ted and the meehoos) all out and playing together, whether it's racing around the garden or leaping around in the long grass playing lions. Ted has rediscovered his inner meehoo since he's had his nads off and is great with the little ones - who are growing like weeds. Got them trained now to come galloping in at night by the simple expedient of not feeding them before they go out. Genius eh?

Wallop

2010-08-08T21:50:00.000+01:00

Today, I have:

* sorted and filed the paperwork of approximately four months
* cleaned the office, ready for computer equipment
* cooked a full English
* cleaned the bedroom
* cleaned the bathroom (after an unseemly gap from the last time)
* ridden Q
* worked T through a lot of unpleasant herding behaviour in the picadeiro while the girls came RIGHT TO THE FENCE and spent the whole time grazing apparently unconcernedly and IMO with great insouciance at the periphery
* did some shopping
* poo picked the mares' field
* walked the pooch
* cooked supper

Meanwhile Sid spent many hours cleaning and de-weeding the front drive and garden path, so that in the winter we may have a fighting chance of beating a path to the car without getting covered in mud, and trimming all the overgrown brambles and other miscellaneous vegetation to ensure that it doesn't short out the electric fence.

The girsl spent the entire afternoon loafing in their shelter so that when the time came for evening doings and goodies they couldn't give any less of a monkey's and stayed resolutely grazing on the other side of the field.

In view of all this and the session with Tessa yesterday, who explained to us the new research revealing that movement has a huge impact on the ongoing efficiency of the central nervous system, our new phrase is "movement is the key". If there's any justice I should have one of the best CNS's in the business.

Crunch

2010-08-07T22:27:00.000+01:00

The boys and I had an appointment with our chiropractor this morning; first time in ages. Both boys in good shape: Q just had a minor tightness to the right just above the wither and T a little tightness around the right stifle - this is the one that gets a bit sticky so not a big surprise. Otherwise pronounced in good shape. Me on the other hand - Jesus. Let's just say there was a deal of crunching going on. I'm not sure why it is that this always makes me giggle like a loon, but there it is. Felt much better afterwards, with advice to take it easy. Of which, fat chance, really. We took the pooch for a walk, did some shopping and poo picked all the fields, so I hope I haven't undone all the good work by humping around half a hundredweight of poo. The boys have had a day off though in the name of me taking it easy.

Good progress with the girls today; Xacra is getting the idea of picking up her foot when asked, which is fab. Both girls are quite wary of men though so I'm not sure how far we'll get with the farrier, but we'll give it a go. They're looking really well though and taking much more interest in all our doings. Alfama is also doing well and is much more approachable having discovered the joy of succulents. She wanted to move around a bit so I spent some time using body language to underline that I was guiding her feet and then she stood really beautifully and allowed me to run my hand down to her fetlocks, so really pleased with them both.

Progress

2010-08-01T22:22:00.000+01:00

So the mares have been with us for a few days now and are settling in well. It's going to be a challenge for me getting them ready for the farrier; I'm not sure it's doable in the time frame but will give it my best shot. These things can't be rushed. Today I was able to give them their first grooming session including a foreleg - one down, 7 to go :O They're enjoying a bit of hay so I can bring them in to the field shelter and do things with them in there. Really don't want to rush this, enjoying the small yet huge breakthroughs and the little signs that they are starting to relax a bit more around us.

Throughout the week I've been working the boys in the arena next to their field. Q has been his glorious self, nickering and interested but otherwise ready to concentrate on work as usual, so I rode him on Friday and again this morning - noting with interest that the presence of two mares in the corner is a really good aid for half pass across the full diagonal.

T has been a bit more interested and intent on doing that ears back snaky neck herding thing, while I have been equally intent on getting him to stop. We did two in hand sessions during the week with a reasonable level of understanding, so today we did a warm up session on the lunge and then I rode him. Of course, when I got on the mares were away down the field, yet almost the moment my butt hit the saddle they were mooching over to see what was going on, and ended up right in the corner as they invariably do :) The focus was on keeping T calm and rewarding that, edging closer (bend is your friend Rachibum) while retaining a nice long relaxed frame. Found the exact distance where he started the herding thing and worked through that, so very pleased that he kept good levels of focus and relaxation. Finished with a bit of work in hand right next to them without the behaviour so was very pleased with him.

Less good is the fact that the last pair of meehoos went today. It's not easy but I had no choice :(

Giant doings

2010-07-29T21:59:00.000+01:00

Just over a week after my previous post and so much has happened, it's difficult to know where to start. Rui has been over and we've had our demo with the boys; in hand and ridden wok for T followed by a session at the long reins for Q and I rode him afterwards: Sid nearly got battered for not taking any pics, the swine. People who came really liked the place and were impressed with the boys, and it gave us a chance to sit and take stock of all the things we've done since we've been here and truly appreciate what we have done instead of dwelling on all the stuff there is yet to do. This perhaps sounds a bit silly but sometimes it needs looking at with a different perspective to really take stock. Nice.

Rui was with us for a couple of days so we had a second session with the boys on Monday; I rode T after Rui and wasn't given much time to contemplate what I was and wasn't going to do - he had us up to canter in very short order which was really nice - need to stop blocking in the transition; a remnant of tension to be worked on. Sid took pics which was very useful from a techical perspective in terms of adjustments to make and very valuable as a training aid. Great ride though, really enjoyed it and must have had my pants on outside my breeches for a moment or two there at least. I was more pleased with the canter work than the piaffe and passage.

And then dawned Tuesday, a day we've been awaiting for Some Considerable Time, the day that our two mares were due to arrive home. Weeeeeeeeeee! It's so difficult to describe the emotions that went through my head in contemplating their arrival: excitement, of course, lots of it, and impromptu outpourings of emotion, like a dam breaking at random moments - but also no small trepidation at what the hell it is we've got ourselves into and whose idea was it to start breeding Lusos anyway? It's no small weight of responsibility, that is for sure.

I had a call from the driver about 10.30 saying he'd be with us in about an hour. Who knew an hour could last so sodding long - arrgghhhh. Eventually that most welcome sight of he light blue livery of a John Parker lorry came into view, accompanied by a flood of emotion that might have carried me off with it had it not been for the half bottle of Rescue Remedy I'd consumed a little while earlier. That and Sid saying "Oh for God's sake don't start blarting Rach". How lovely to see those two familiar faces looking out of the window - our two beautiful girls :mush:

Alfama came off first and a part of me was expecting some sort of unnecessary behaviour, what with her being largely unhandled from the midst of a large herd of mares and after a five day road trip across Europe, but I should have known better. Th true joy and beauty of the Lusitano brain - she stepped off very calmly, walked with me to the field, we had a moment between the three of us to welcome her home, let her off and off she went, head straight down to start munching. Similarly, Xacra came off the lorry very calmly and we couldn't believe how much she has developed! Jesus - although clearly the same horse, she has grown up so much in the past two years and is looking absolutely lovely - notwithstanding the terrible feet, the poo stains and the giant dreadlock of a tail - she is stunning. Into the field, a welcome fuss and off she mooched to join Alfama. Absolutely calm as you like. Had a great conversation with the driver about the all round excellence of the Lusitano brain - needless to say he transports a lot of breeds of horses to and from a lot of locations and like all the JP drivers before him that have brought the boys, they all say the same thing.

We've been spending quite a bit of time in the field with them, just sitting quietly and enjoying being with them. They've taken turns rolling, resting, using the field shelter etc and are looking and feeling pretty chilled. Thus far they've resisted all efforts to imbibe any food, until today when I mixed a bit of apple juice with it and that seemed to go down well.

I worked the boys today for the first time since the girls arrived and they were very good; interest of course and some whickering but nothing out of hand and distraction/work techniques quickly had them back to the job at hand, so very pleased with that.

The Next Big Thing is the girls' first farrier appointent (and I do mean their first) on the 18th Aug so I have to (a) catch them and (b) teach them to pick up their feet for then. Sounds easy when you say it quick. Xacra came to sniff me today so that's progress.

Meanwhile I have been trying to find homes for the meehoos :sniff: A friend of mine is coming on Saturday to take two, and tomorrow we are taking two to their new home, along with Ted who is going to the vets to have his orange orbs whipped off. So this is their last night all together as a family. I feel really sad about this but Sid has reached the end of his ropewith the general meehoo-related melee and it's either rehome them or fling myself off the edge of a cliff. However sad it is, I must keep in mind that they've had a far better start and have much better prospects for a healthy life well cared for than they would have had if they'd been born under a bush somewhere. Still.

On the cusp of holidays

2010-07-21T17:04:00.000+01:00

Today is the first day of two weeks off work. Yay! I love that luxuriant feel of the time stretching ahead like a big stretchy thing and fully intend to actually luxuriate in it today because the next thing of course is that I will blink and it will have finished. Needless to say that being on the homestead with our 50,000 creatures, physically getting away somewhere is almost impossible and besides which there is the small matter of our two broodmares being due to arrive home from Portugal on Monday. In any event, there's nowhere else I'd rather be than at the homestead with Sid and our 50,000 creatures, so that's just as well isn't it. I would say it's cheaper too but when you factor in the cost of shipping the mares home and that of their brand new 23 x 12' field shelter due to be erected on Saturday, well we have been on holiday for rather less on several occasions. In fact the only holidays that were more expensive were the times when we went to Portugal and came back with a stallion. Maybe also that time we went to Vienna and gorged ourselves on the SRS, coffee and cake and stayed in a really nice hotel.

My niece Knickers is staying with us at the moment and as is customary she has been pressed into service with a number of chores about the homestead. She remarked this morning that the sort of tasks she'd been charged with doing (such as raking a load of top soil into a veggie bed and breaking up big clods of earth in what might be regarding as a desultory fashion) were exactly the sort of tasks one might be expected to do when sentenced to 25 years of hard labour. "Ah", said Sid, "but in prison you don't get Nutella for breakfast" which I thought was (a) probably correct, and (b) bloody funny. She's going back on Friday (probably for a rest) then coming back to live with us in September when she goes to Uni. And does loads of stuff about the place. We have a full schedule of activities planned for her and have considered pimping her out to raise some funds for the extra acreage we are bound to need and have already identified a number of local farmers who may have needs that she could meet. We thought we could then write about her adventures in a tome called "Desperate Farmers". Or, we could pimp her ass and as a result of her activities she would marry a rich old farmer, he would die and she would have the magic acreage, and then in a tragic reversal of fortunes she could get me and Sid to do all the unpleasant jobs on her place in an effort to get her to let us use her expansive acreage for our growing collection of Lusos.

Slimy eh?

In other news, the mittens (or meehoos as I like to call them) are growing like weeds and eating us out of house and home. They enjoy loafing about in the wisteria playing lions, and galloping and gambolling in the garden. Binky has cut a swath through the local baby rabbit population in her attempts to teach them to hunt - that's good, it's much more useful for us not to mention ethically acceptable that she keeps the rabbit population down than hunting any of the local birdlife. The other night, I had gathered up all the meehoos for the evening but it quickly became apparent that one was MIA. We all went out in turn scouring the farm looking for him, but no sign. I let Dora out for a pee last thing and immediately heard a high pitched and rather desperate mewling coming from the garage. Binky ran up to me and might as well have shouted "he's in the garage!" from her body language, then ran back to the garage door. I had to go and get the keys to let him out but it was so sweet how she ran up to me to let me know help was needed, and knowing I'd sort it out. She's a wonderful cat in so many ways; still loving on he babies, fiercely protective, friendly, sweet, beautiful - ahhhh :mush:

Cat admin, and other matters

2010-07-13T17:58:00.000+01:00

It had to happen sooner or later, the spectre of rehoming. I've advertised far and wide and no bugger within a 40 mile radius appears to be on the market for a kitten right now. I've just spent some time on the phone chatting to Cats Protection about our situation, the fact that we can't keep them all and of the ones we do want to keep (3, it's just a question of negotiating which 3 - the silver tabby girl and the two runts or the silver tabby girl, the tortie and the black one who's a Binky Mini-Me that are like the three musketeers and always together) is there any help available for the necessary neutering costs. I was a bit loath to go down this road but thinking about it they as an organisation are far better placed to vet and follow up with new owners than we would be as private individuals so would be better placed to ensure that homes found are good ones. Further, they will give us vouchers to get ours done when the time comes and also to take care of Ted and his magnificent if largely vestigial orbs. There is also the possibility of getting Poppy done - that's a tricky one as she's not our cat but the owners don't seem to care about her having litter after litter and unfortunately we are the ones who get to take care of the consequences.

Meanwhile Sid is pressing for them to move to one of the stables not least because he found Dora stressed this morning surrounded for four mittens and Binky standing guard ready to belt the living daylights out of her if she thought of doing anything untoward. The last thing we want is for Dora to snap and attack one of them. Meanwhile Binky has just learnt to use the catflap and the mittens are big enough to be able to get over a stable door so I wouldn't be able to keep them in at night. Arrrgggghhhhh.

On the plus side they are venturing out in the garden regularly and all so far is well.

In other news I am busy making arrangements for the girlz to come home and the arena is much better now with the benefit of a bit of rain. Q and I had our inaugural ride in there while Sid and his mate Rob were putting up an extra line to ensure the electric fencing is on when the relevant gates are open to allow the boys free access to the summer grazing, which involved ladders, rustling and banging. All of this meant that Q had ample opportunity to display a range of impressive spooking techniques and I got to determine just how sticky my seat is when put through a range of impressive spooking techniques. At that stage the arena was riding a bit deep so I didn't do any canter work, so looking forward to cracking on now it's riding better.

Meanwhile T acted as though he'd been worked in there every day for six weeks, bless his glorious heart. He also gets top marks for the mush factor after following me around last weekend whilst I was poo picking and then burying his head in the crook of my neck for a cuddle. I could have died of happiness right there and then.

On the matter of poo picking it's becoming a bit much now having to hump some six-eight barrows per week up the field, a situation which is only going to get worse when we have double the number of horses here. As such we really have no option but to seriously consider the purchase of an ATV. Only thing is, can I be sure that Sid won't do himself some serious mischief on it? Hmmm. If there's anybody out there who can recommend an industrial poo picking solution that is preferably not predisposed to abuse by French people with a tendency towards excess, I'm all ears.