I was convinced it wasn't going to snow. So it started at about 11 am. Mr O had finished work and been dropped back just as I finished mucking out his stables. He helped me do all the other jobs, then it started blizzarding with a vengeance. Soon it was white everywhere. I was not impressed.
I did actually get quite warm with all the mucking out, and took my hat and jacket off.
The John Deere has got a puncture, goodness knows how. We got a guy out from Wingerworth Tyres. It was quite fascinating watching him work. He took out the inner tube and showed me where the puncture was, and fitted a new tube, then pumped the tyre back up and all is well.
As I went to take the cash out of my jacket pocket (now back on) I pulled out a glove instead. It was covered in some slimy, mucus like substance, which I gradually realised... was raw egg! It turns out I left last night's eggs in my jacket pocket, and forgot all about them. When I took my jacket off to muck out, and swung it over the stable door, one of the eggs must have smashed with the force! I smiled weakly at the mechanic and said, "I'll be back in a minute." I ran indoors, pulled out the other glove, also covered in a protein-rich, sticky goo, and then pulled the pocket inside out, where I found one pale blue, completely unharmed egg, and the remains of a brown one that had smashed. I slopped the contents of my pocket into the bin and put the jacket in the washing machine. It turned out that, unbeknown to me, the egg had been dripping through my pocket for some time, as a large, unattractive damp patch had spread over the top of my jodhpurs. Had the mechanic noticed? Should I make some witty comment, to gloss over it? I opted to pay the man, and walk away, pride intact. I may never meet him again. I would make it quick. I went back in a clean jacket, and as I handed over the (clean, dry) cash, he said, "You have horses here then?" and proceeded to tell me all about his, that he keeps at Jane Portas' yard. He said they are for his children, but it was obvious he was the real horseman. I pulled back the wooden door to reveal Barnaby chasing Zak with his ears back, fighting over the hay. It was like telling someone how wonderful your children are, only to have them appear in front of you screaming and pulling each other's hair. I said, resignedly, "These are ours."
Then as I held the gate open for him to leave, a delivery van pulled onto the drive and the guy gave me a box from Robinsons, which I signed for. Then my Tesco shopping was delivered. It was like Piccadilly Circus.
The Robinsons box has got a heavyweight rug for Barnaby (with no neck!) and jods for Mr O which are my Christmas present to him, plus a new black jacket each. Mr O also had some boots. He'd tried to get a bridle, but they'd sold out within two hours of the sale starting.
It continued to snow.
In the end we got the horses in, as they had snow on their backs, and looked generally unimpressed, plus, of course the trough is frozen, and so is the outside water tap. This means I have had to do each horse's water by bucket from our tap in the kitchen. Marvellous.
I waited as long as I could, and then made the decision to phone my hairdresser and cancel my appointment. There was snow everywhere, and it was getting worse. We should have been going to the yard Christmas party, but the weather was just ridiculous. I had shaved my legs and everything! It wasn't so much the weather then, it was if it got too bad to come back at 11pm. I had to text Lorna and apologise as we weren't going to make it. I got a very curt message back, but what can I do?
All our plans were scuppered, as we wanted to box the horses up and take them to Osberton on Friday morning, but there's no way I'm taking the lorry out with ice on the roads. The Barlow Hunt was supposed to be meeting up the road as well, but they must have decided to cancel, as I couldn't see any vehicles, and none of our horses were stressed.
So we had no choice but to spend the evening indoors, so I did a little more sewing and caught up on my facebook stuff. I can't complain about the weather. Usually facebook is for doing Farm Town and Farmville and superficial stuff like that, but this week it's been an opportunity to pray for people. I have one wonderful American Christian friend who has just been diagnosed with breast cancer, one who's husband is having an operation today to have a stent put in his heart, and Wendy's pony went down with colic and is now in horsey hospital fighting for her life. I think I'll just count my blessings and stay very quiet.
My response to Warwick Schiller's solution and CMO
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