A Mixed Bag

So I've mucked out six stables for the third day in a row. It was foggy again. I decided to turn the horses out and muck out in the morning, and sure enough the mist did clear as the day progressed, so I decided to get Barnaby in and ride him. He was fine when I washed his feet off and took him in and took his rug off. I groomed him, especially the mud caked on his face, and under his tummy, then went to get his bridle. I was just about to put it on him, when he suddenly went ballistic. For the life of me I don't know why. He was barging, and I was worried as I had the head collar round his neck, but I managed to undo it. He was throwing himself at the door, so I couldn't get out, then he crushed me up against the wall. In the end I had to run round the back of him and climb over the partition into Max's stable. Thank goodness we haven't got the American barn type stables or I'd have been trapped.
In the end I left him to it, as I couldn't turn him back out as he had no rug on and wouldn't stand to let me put one on, but he was still rearing and kicking the door, and leaning on it with all his weight, when I went to get the other horses in, so even having company didn't calm him down. I've given him his tea, and he is quiet now, but this is two hours later.
I do blame the hunting, and I am so frustrated as I've spent all summer calming him down, and making him a pleasure to ride, but one hunting session and we're back to square one. I'd ride him first thing in the morning, but he will just stress if the other horses are turned out and he is left in. I might be able to tack him up, turn the others out and then take him straight out, but I need to know he isn't going to be strong with me as we go straight out onto a 60mph road and I don't want him tanking off with me. He is on minimal hard feed, and there is no grazing, only the haylage we put out, so I don't see what else I can do.
I think I am tired today, and I am fed up with the mud, as the horses come in with it right up to their stomachs. I don't mind washing legs off, but when it's wet on their bellies, I don't want to put a girth on it in case it rubs and makes them sore. I had all these plans of taking Barnaby up to the school and lungeing him before I got on him, but that was all scuppered. Grrrr!
Another builder has been today to do some work on the barn. We need him to put a new beam in on the entrance side as Pongo has hit it a couple of times with the tractor, and dented it. Mr O pointed out that there are new tie up beams at the entrance to each stable, but there is still so much to do before it's ready. There are no stable doors on, and the walls need painting, and the curved bricks need to be put on. It all seems to take so long. And they do need to go in there as the roof in the stables is too low and it leaks. Sometimes I think we are right back where we started from. People at our previous yard like to have a good moan, but really they should know when they're well off.
I opened the back door this afternoon, armed with bread, which was just as well as five of the chickens were there to greet me. One of the Welsummers was sharpening her beak on the paving stones, which I found rather intimidating. Anyway, Henny Penny wasn't there, so I called her and she came sprinting up the path, skirts flying, only to slip on some chicken poo and, despite slamming the breaks on, couldn't stop herself and went crashing into the other chickens. There was a lot of apologising and 'Well really!' and 'Think nothing of it,' going on, but I think she was a little embarrassed, to say the least, bless 'er!