Although the snow from the weekend before last was over by Tuesday, we were stuck with freezing temperatures that prevented a thaw and left the Common too icy and dangerous for precious horses like us to be allowed out on it. Instead, the full-time WVS residents were obliged to trail round the roads all week
– something I personally find rather amusing and interesting, but then I have a more inquiring mind than many others and have only had three rather than six days of this new routine. BTW, we all pretend we have no idea what’s caused the change to our daily exercise regime, in case the carers cotton on to how smart we really are, even the dopier ones amongst us – please note, no naming and shaming here. Down at Manor Farm, on the other hand, life for me last week continued much as normal, even if the fields were not at their best, but I enjoy the freedom regardless (as I like to mention from time to time to the Wimbledon boys and girls – it’s always such fun to wind them up).
As I think I have told you before, I am mainly ridden by the Old Bird and she is generally well trained, so lets me behave pretty much as I like, except in the ring when she sometimes becomes overly bossy. Back home, if she’s feeling grumpy (and she is a moody sort), she occasionally shouts at me if she (apparently) feels I have overstepped the mark: I’m like “WTF, I did the exact same thing last week and it was ok then?”, but I know the correct response is to back off and look a little ashamed, allowing her to forgive me almost instantly. I highly recommend this tactic, as it’s usually followed by a carrot or similar as she thinks better of having taken her bad mood out on innocent little me (and it’s best never to ask what the problem is for fear of prompting a rant)…
I was chatting to my mate Honey the other day – she’s basically a good girl, but sometimes I have to let her know if she gets above herself (see how I learn from the Old Bird): I don’t think Honey always understands why I’m upset and she certainly doesn’t seem to care, sometimes treating me – ME – as if I were just an annoying little boy. Anyway, she was explaining how it feels to have two “owners”, although as I understand it only Honey-Mummy Senior contributes to her maintenance fund and clothing and treat allowance. She says the Senior One – presumably feeling she has the right as she’s the main banker – tries harder to impose control (not usually with too much success, Honey claims), while Honey-Mummy Junior is more relaxed, encourages her to show some spirit and will happily spend hacks out alone feeding her polos and taking photos of her – what’s not to like?
The other experience Honey shared with me was the most extraordinary case of the self-closing gate. She and Posh (another of my good chums) were out one day and came across a gate that is apparently able to open and close without any human intervention. They were shocked and not a little scared to witness said gate closing all on its own, with not a human in sight. I admit to having been a little sceptical – gates with minds of their own seem hardly likely – but when I was out with Rocky on Friday, sure enough I was startled to encounter the same phenomenon which stopped me dead (not literally) in my tracks. Who’d have thought and what will they think of next – a perfect reminder of why we need to be alert at all times.
I hear on the grapevine that there is to be a talk on musical rides next Tuesday, as She Who Must Be Obeyed is planning to organise some as a little enticement to keep up the spirits of those who are currently unable to ride. It reminded me of one of my (many) moments of glory, when I won the “Man of the Match” award for my performance in a WVS Livery Christmas musical ride back in 2006, in which – even if I say so myself – I led the Red Team so excellently. I remember the occasion well, it was great fun and also one area where I proved superior to Spooky (you remember him, my nemesis) as he had to be banished from an earlier team for behaving disgracefully (spurting across the ring and bucking) during rehearsals every time a whistle was blown to signify a change in movement. This confirms my view that natural class wins out over breeding every time.
I must rush off now to Manor Farm, excited by the prospect of some warmer weather which should encourage the Spring grass to grow – hurrah!
See you next week,
Rory x