The first outdoor social event at WVS since the last two lockdowns took place the Saturday before last: a very jolly gathering of most of the liveries and their other halves. I was squatting in Onyx’s box for that weekend (he was enjoying the grass down at Manor Farm while recuperating from a bruised foot),

an excellent position from which to see the goings on if I chose to but also offering a retreat at the back of the box if I fancied some (relative) quiet. I was also well placed to be able to attract the Old Bird’s attention when she hoved into view, using the old banging on the door trick which, as usual, mainly worked, although only polos were forthcoming that evening. I was also just behind the bar which – like the excellent food (if the rate at which our humans were stuffing their faces was anything to go by) – was provided by Catered by Justin, the go-to food and drink supplier for WVS’s social activities. I was gratified and not a little proud to discover that owner Justin is apparently a regular reader (and therefore surely a fan) of my Ramblings – who knew my fame would reach so far… He and his girls were suitably attentive to me and, I must believe, impressed by my aura of celebrity.

And although that first WVS barbecue of 2021 was not accompanied by perfect weather, at least it stayed dry and the wind had dropped, while lashings of alcohol seemed to prevent the revellers from noticing the cold. A week on and we are now enjoying much more clement conditions, with temperatures starting to suggest Summer really is just around the corner, while the tracks are still damp enough to be very comfortable underfoot.

Speaking personally, I have enjoyed a pretty quiet couple of weeks: better behaviour (according to the Old Bird) on hacks and general compliance in lessons. Even so, this past weekend, OB deserted me on Saturday in favour of some random family 100th birthday celebration at which she claimed her presence was compulsory, although it sounds pretty iffy to me and shows a depressingly poor sense of priorities. Instead, I got to strut my stuff for She Who Must Be Obeyed and while I planned to put on a good enough show that she wouldn’t feel obliged to come up with any more tiresome restrictions as to what we horses can and can’t be allowed to do (eg grabbing tasty mouthfuls as we stroll along the tracks), I have to admit to trying to sneak in the odd mouthful along the way, but SWMBO was having none of it; on the other hand, she did allow me to graze at the end of the ride, which I much appreciated. The next hour was a little more successful on the snacking front from my point of view (albeit not in SWMBO’s book) as head carer Nadia was kind enough to allow me to snatch a few delicious morsels, wisely recognising that I am a very special case.

In any event, I felt obliged to register my disapproval at my abandonment when the Old Bird eventually tipped up at the yard on Sunday – sometimes you just have to make a point or you risk your goodwill being taken for granted. I therefore confess to using behaviour I would not normally countenance – ie barging out of my stable before she had had a chance to put on my bridle, in complete contrast to my usual practice of standing still and looking forward to the post-tacking up treats – but which I felt was forgivable in the circumstances.

Going back to the rules that She Who Must Be Obeyed deems appropriate, there are apparently some exceptions – it’s OK for Pod to be led out for dedicated grazing sessions, which seems like one rule for her family members and another for the rest of us… Speaking of which, Pod turns 28 today – and while I can’t dispute that he is WVS’s elder statesman (I am a mere youngster by comparison), I don’t really know why he expects and often gets such special treatment. I dare say he will be having birthday drinks but, as I will be down at Manor Farm, I will be unable to participate (not that he has had the common courtesy to invite me, which I am sure you will agree is pretty poor show). I wish I knew the exact date of my birth so I could hold my own party each year, but as I don’t, I think I will have to lobby the Old Bird to request an official birthday for me, just like the Queen – after all, I feel I can almost be considered equine royalty

This past Friday brought an interesting, if rather strange event that I was able to watch from a front seat (Rosie’s box): two half human bodies and a baby (plastic not mutilated real humans, as I learned later) were laid out on the floor in front of me, surrounded by the carers who had to undergo intensive first aid training on these peculiar objects to ensure they would be able to look after any of our riders in the unlikely event that something untoward were to happen to them – never our fault of course, purely as a result of their own carelessness. Even Frodo joined in – he does like to be centre stage…

I understand that work is now scheduled to start on the top ring on Thursday, meaning it will be out of use for a month or so as it’s a fairly major job. As a result, there will be more training hacks – I am not sure if I approve as I generally expect to be able to relax when I am not in the ring and I find it quite hard to get my head around being asked to do exercises on the tracks that would normally only be required in a ring lesson. We will see how the others adapt!

This coming week also marks the end of the formal WVS volunteer programme as another bunch of Spanish work experience students is due to start next Monday. I will be sad to see our vols go as they have been great fun to have around as well as being very useful about the place – I hope their replacements (regardless of linguistic limitations) will also appreciate how exceptional I am and how deferential they should be towards me. Otherwise, there will have to be some sort of reckoning…

On which note, I must dash as my carriage awaits to whisk me down to Manor Farm for another enjoyable few days of mooching around and benefiting from the delicious Spring grass. More anon.
Rory x