Even though I am a busy bloke (grazing is a 24/7 job), I have decided not to wait until May before sharing my thoughts with you again, despite planning to report less frequently now that lockdown restrictions are gradually being eased. It has, after all, been a hectic couple of weeks at WVS, with several events on which I am sure you will welcome my views.
The Friday before last, we welcomed (very big) Elvis into the yard; we spent a bit of time together on Sunday on our way down to a lesson with Tash and he seems like a decent chap and suitably respectful (but perhaps showing a bit too much potential in the ring for a newbie). I do worry, however, that he may already have made one enemy as he has (presumably inadvertently) claimed Honey’s box – I can only imagine what she thinks about moving away from the hay-soaking water trough. That said, she has been allocated a front box in the main yard, so maybe she would be wise to view it as promotion and a reward for her many years of excellent service? Similarly, I hope Scooby is pleased that he inherited what used to be MY box when I was a permanent resident at WVS all those years ago, but I am gracious enough to accept that, as a part-timer, I can’t really expect to have my own room, however much I may feel I deserve one.
In any event, Elvis is now stepbrother to Indie, who I thought might in future be spared the more ambitious schooling regime favoured by Important Executive Tracey, as I had understood that her husband, Professor Spencer – who specialises in fluid mechanics (is that watching water flow from a tap?) – is generally more lenient. That said, he did join our lesson on Sunday, and I overheard him telling the Old Bird that he likes a challenge, which maybe doesn’t suggest Indie will be able to take it easy all the time…
In another exciting and happy development, I was granted an extra day down at Manor Farm this past week in order to facilitate Merlin’s return. Yes, he is back, having been away from the yard for around seven months, of which the last three down near Exmoor on a barefoot (ie no shoes, for those of you who don’t understand simple English) rehabilitation course for his navicular syndrome. His owner, Professor Terry – a renal (kidneys to you and me) pathologist – (yes, what a diverse, talented and successful lot our liveries are, but how DULL do their jobs sound?) is hoping — as are we all — that Merlin will slot back into WVS seamlessly, although the hard and stony ground may present quite a challenge as he is still unshod as part of his treatment. I haven’t had a chance for a catch-up session with him – as soon as he was unloaded, I was whisked back down to Claygate – but I am hoping he has some good stories to tell. Already, after just a couple of days back in Wimbledon (show-off that he is), he has had his photo taken with Angela Rippon, confirming his view that he is now some sort of celebrity. Of course, I don’t take such things to heart – my fame will be much more enduring – and I do feel some bond with Merlin as I too was diagnosed with navicular (along with multiple other leg issues) when I was off work for the best part of a year in 2007/2008. I hope Merlin (and Prof Terry) will be encouraged by my complete recovery as I am still going strong 13 years on.
All this talk of travel reminds me to comment on the much improved transport services we are able to enjoy following the sale of the WVS lorry (another casualty of Covid as it was so expensive to run) now that we horses are ferried about by Christina’s excellent horseboxes. You won’t be surprised to hear that I am Christina’s favourite passenger as (in her words, which I applaud) I practically load myself (a benefit of being a seasoned commuter) and I only kick if I am – inexcusably – made to travel behind the driver as sometimes one just has to demonstrate one’s displeasure (I know, it’s just one of my lovable little idiosyncrasies). Otherwise, I am perfectly behaved – after all, who wouldn’t prefer a taxi to a bus? That said, it is true that, if I am the sole passenger, they do stick me in the driver’s side (something to do with the road camber and safety issues – who knew?) which makes me sulk and bang – such a shame, as I would otherwise enjoy travelling in splendid isolation in my own private limo so much.
Talking of banging, there is banging and banging; there are rude horses who kick their stable doors relentlessly at mealtimes in order to ensure they will be served first (not so stupid as it works, but jolly annoying for the rest of us). I prefer the much classier, more targeted banging – ie when the Old Bird is in sight but, extraordinarily, is doing something other than paying me attention and giving me treats of one kind or another. This is a very successful ploy and even if I am just bringing forward apples and carrots that I could have expected to be given later, I have never been one for delayed gratification – after all, who knows what is round the corner?
I understand that due to some office admin, the Old Bird got a look at my passport (which is normally kept under lock and key by Zimbo) and was surprised to find that I was born in1997, making me 24 this year, so a year older than she had been imagining – and yes, I am 20th Century man. Obviously, I know my birth year (if not the exact date), but it doesn’t seem unreasonable to me for a more mature person to shave off a year or two if he can also behave accordingly (as indeed I do) – after all, I am unable to disguise my white hairs, unlike so many of the liveries (although, to my delight, not so much while the hairdressers have been verboten).
Before I finish, although I feel I have mentioned Dexter far too often since he arrived at WVS and nobody would want him to get big-headed, I can’t ignore the fact that he now has his forever owner: Deborah, Queen of Communications. I must admit that she deserves finally to have found her perfect match after so many disappointments (not everyone is as lucky as the Old Bird in getting it right first time), but I will be having a word with him to ensure he doesn’t assume that tiresome role of teacher’s pet. Time will tell.
I must dash but, by popular request, I have agreed to undertake a fortnightly column from now on, so you won’t have to wait too long for more news from me…
Rory x