I know you will sympathise with me when you learn that, as a result of some incompetence somewhere by someone, my planned dental and hairdressing appointments were postponed from last Monday to today. Although I can’t say I much care for either procedure,

I had looked forward to being a trend setter for the yard, but will now only be a follower as all my mates already enjoyed (endured?) pampering sessions last week – so disappointing! I wouldn’t want to point a finger at anyone, but it did occur to me that Zimbo, as She Who Must Be Obeyed’s lieutenant, is generally in charge of such arrangements… Enough said but, given the unwarranted discrimination I have suffered, my comments this week will be all about ME in an effort to restore my self-esteem.

 The buzz in the yard when I returned on Friday concerned WVS’s reopening in a month’s time which we can now all look forward to – this surely means more treats for me, even if I am not available to the general public. And, I am happy to report, even before then our helpful volunteers are being pressed back into service – lots of yard work and brushing off of equine legs lie ahead for them – and they will be returning in just a week or so; I am convinced – and will do my best to ensure – that this will also increase the attention I receive (I am particularly partial to the grooming and – in Summer – the bathing that awaits me when I arrive back in Wimbledon on Friday mornings).

We can also hope that it won’t be too long before the days of our tracks being swarmed by walkers, buggies, dogs, joggers and cyclists are over, as they will soon surely be able to find other ways to amuse themselves. Although I personally am generally pretty chilled about most dogs (unless they are obviously aggressive), there is something very comforting about being out and about with Crumpet, Head of the WVS Canine Pack, as she is still so good at rounding up and chasing off annoying dogs, even though she is now blind – her sense of danger remains as acute as ever, as does her urge to protect “her” horses. There is, however, one drawback to having a stroll on the Common with Crumpet: it involves riding out with She Who Must Be Obeyed and she rather frowns on me combining hacking with snacking (more on that later).

The carers have been keeping busy (which I like to see) exercising and schooling all the WVS residents and, no doubt, reinforcing the obedience that is expected from them. I view most of them (my mates, not the carers) with pity as I am blessed (but don’t let on) in having succeeded in training the Old Bird to allow me to do pretty much anything I like when we are out on the Common (except in the arena where, as I have mentioned before, she can be strangely determined to get her own way). She lets me graze (if I manage to do so once in a new place, it does of course become a habit), she sometimes allows me to choose which direction we should go in – except if I turn towards home and she wants to stay out longer, although that makes no sense to me – and she is ridiculously relaxed in accommodating me when I decide to grab mouthfuls of grass, leaves or gorse on the move – it is, by the way, quite a talent to be able to do this. Except, of course, if we are riding out with She Who Must Be Obeyed, who bizarrely finds my snacking annoying (what’s it to her, I wonder, but have resisted asking out loud) and obliges the Old Bird to pretend to exert some dominance. A while ago, she (the Old Bird, prompted by She Who Must Be Obeyed) told me that there would be a new regime which would mean no snacking AT ALL on the Common except when we first arrive and when we leave; it all seemed unnecessarily harsh to me, but I surprised her by proving unexpectedly compliant for a while to lull her into a false sense of security; we all really know who’s in charge though and it’s been back to just the way I like it for some time now.

I bemoaned the dull conversations we horses are subjected to on hacks last week, which encouraged me to reflect on some of the words these liveries use (please forget donkey and hippo), which seem to be (I hope) temporary fads. At one time the favourite word to describe groups of pretty much anything was “cohort” (what’s wrong with herds or packs?) and now everything seems to be “at pace” – what does that mean: walk, trot, canter? collected, working, extended? Please, people (you who pride yourselves on being more articulate than we animals), be more specific or just zip it!

Perhaps I should take this as my cue to finish, but I realise I have said nothing about the weather this week: what a joy to feel the sun on my back (it would of course have been better if I had been less hairy), to see blue sky overhead and flowers on some of the trees (although mostly my eyes are cast downward, looking for tasty titbits) and I am looking forward to seeing how far Spring has advanced down at Manor Farm thanks to the weekend’s warmth.

I hope to be able to show off my new haircut and sparkling teeth next week or there will be trouble…

Rory x