They say you should be careful what you wish for and, indeed, so it was when I returned to Manor Farm after having been clipped out for the Spring; the weather had turned chillier and wet and I mourned the loss of my thicker winter coat. On the other hand,
I look extremely handsome, even if I say so myself, as I am sure you will agree when you gaze on this week’s photo(s), so I am grateful to Elizabeth and Poppy for putting in the effort (but what happened to the Grecian 2000 treatment which would have disguised some of my less than welcome white hairs?).
Down at Manor Farm, my Claygate Girls (Amy and Sandra) are always so good to me – they, like the WVS carers, are a bit of a pushover, but I do appreciate their affection and attention. I am mostly pretty well behaved at the Farm, although I must admit to getting a little over-enthusiastic about going in and out of my box and to and from the field sometimes – I can’t help being impatient, it’s part of my charm (the Old Bird empathises as she’s not known for her patience either). Mostly my Claygate Girls put up with my boisterousness, but I confess I was a bit too pushy one evening in my rush to enjoy supper in my box and inadvertently sent the older girl flying – my loss as it turns out, as it means I don’t get to see her for a bedtime story anymore. However, I made sure early on that I would appeal to them both by putting on my cute and cuddly persona (something the Old Bird can only wish she would get to see), which ensures that I can generally do no wrong in their eyes and, if I slip up from time to time, they tend to forgive me quickly (who wouldn’t?).
As you may know, we are usually accompanied on our trips to and from the fields at Manor Farm by the mule, which is often driven by Paul, my favourite human bloke; even though I confess to being a bit of a lad, I am not really that fond of most males (human or equine), as I consider myself more of a ladies’ man, which is handy as I know that all the girls love a bad boy… I am happy to trot sedately beside the mule, even if it is a little noisy for my taste, but as it’s for my benefit, I feel it would be churlish to object. In contrast, when I am in the mood, I like to dance or charge down the road in Wimbledon if we encounter loud vehicles, especially motorbikes which I particularly dislike (ironic when you think about it, as it was the Old Bird who got knocked down by a motorbike, not me). On the other hand, unlike some I could name (I don’t want to keep using the “S” word, but Spooky does spring to mind), I am very well behaved in terms of taking visual objects in my stride, even if they are unusual or obviously out of place (wheelbarrows and the like), which I believe earns me brownie points, whatever they may be, they don’t sound very appetising….
I think I had said before that life had to move on after my mate Vulcan died, but that’s not really true; I still miss him and it’s hard to bond much with the younger and brash horses I sometimes share a field with who don’t always give me the respect I deserve. I therefore enjoy it all the more when good old Louis comes down to Manor Farm and we wise elder statesmen have great times shooting the breeze and having a good old chin wag, sometimes swapping advice on how best to manipulate (in the nicest possible way) our owners and/or carers. I was more than happy to share my headcollar experience (a lesson on how to ensure an out of fashion accessory is replaced at the appropriate time) and I believe we will soon see Louis modelling his own new headcollar.
But the major event last week was Auntie Caroline’s 60th birthday on Friday — who’d have guessed? Of course, lockdown restrictions meant she couldn’t have a super big celebration (incidentally, has anyone ever thrown ME a birthday party, big or small?). Instead, she spent the morning at the yard, surrounded by all things equine and more cake than anyone could possibly eat, but although she’s a great fan of mine, she didn’t get to ride me (which she would have considered the best possible present), as the Old Bird was putting me through my paces with Mojca (and I must say I performed rather well, wishing to show off my new clip to full advantage). It’s hard to think of Auntie Caroline as a mature person, she who spends so much time saving old tack for unknown purposes, when all we horses want is something new and stylish. But these humans are generally odd sorts and it’s mostly difficult to know what (if anything) goes through their brains and makes them behave as they do. Best not to inquire too deeply and just go with it, I’ve found.
I am told we can expect mixed weather this week – sunshine and showers – but not much warmth. In contrast, however, there should be a warm welcome from the WVS volunteers when I return on Friday – I am sure they will have missed seeing me and would like to remind them to bring extra treats. I hear that human schools reopen today, but hope this doesn’t mean extra schooling for us horses (more pertinently, for me) as I would have to make my displeasure clear if my regular hack & snack routine were to be unduly disrupted.
See you next week
Rory x
