Greetings!

Hello all, it's been a strange week, as my computer finally bit the dust on Tuesday morning. I pressed the 'on' button and it promptly sank into the computer, never to be seen again. Fortunately, Mr O was on the case and ordered us a new one. I think he realises what a lifeline my laptop is, as I hardly see any real life human beings from one day to the next, and this reallly is my means of communication with the outside world.
We had a few frustrations over the Easter holidays. Mr O should have gone showjumping at Marchington, but it was cancelled 'due to lack of entries.' As you don't have to pre-enter the showjumping, we found this rather odd, but decided to look on the bright side as it would give Zak's wound time to heal up completely before he goes in the lorry again. Then, on the same day, the organiser of a TREC competition I was going to rang up to say that that was also cancelled due to lack of entries. I felt like saying, "Yes, but I wanted to do it!" Grrr!
So I felt totally deflated, as once you know a competition is imminent, the adrenaline starts to stir. I put a comment on facebook about my disappointment, and Leigh, who now owns Max (my old horse) said to come over with Barnaby and go for a ride. I was absolutely thrilled, and immediately accepted, so on the bank holiday that's what we did. I got Barnaby in, gave his tail a wash to spruce him up a bit, and off we went.
Their farm has a long driveway, but as we trundled along, we could hear Max whinnying from his stable, as he clearly recognised the sound of the lorry, even though he hasn't heard it for a year. Isn't that amazing?
I unloaded Barnaby and took him over to meet Max. They knew each other instantly. Barnaby looked as if to say, "Where've you been, you scruff?" But actually Max looked stunning. All the mane that Barnaby chewed off last year has grown back and he has these flowing locks and looked immaculate.
We tacked up and set off, going through a woods, then onto what I can only call 'some land.' It wasn't fields, it was just land with tracks all over it. I was in front (of course!) and Leigh kept giving me directions and we just kept going. It looked as though it went on for miles. If I'd been on my own I'd have got totally lost.
As we continued there was a little tiny log on the floor so I asked Barnaby to go over it. It was so small it wasn't worth the effort of cantering and he just trotted over it, but I was really pleased. Then a bit further on there was another one, slightly bigger, so I asked him to go over it and he cantered this time. Then came another even bigger one which we jumped cleanly. It was fantastic. I knew I'd have the nerve to jump him outside, because it's straight lines. He was beautiful though, his neck stayed straight up in front of me and he felt rock solid, not like when we show jump in the arena and he puts his head between his knees and tanks round. I was so pleased with him, I was quite high when I got back.
We got back to the yard and Leigh asked if I'd like to ride Max so I agreed. Last time I was quite nervous about doing it and think I just watched her, but this time I had no nerves at all and got straight on (leaving Leigh to hold Barnaby, who kept trying to get down and roll in the lovely sand!)
It felt very strange riding this horse who I owned for six years and felt such kinship with. Firstly he felt very small compared to Barnaby. This was quite a shock, as I never felt underhorsed when I owned him. Then I thought the saddle was too small, even though it was my own saddle. I've obviously spread out to accommodate Barnaby's bulk! In the end I rode with no stirrups and he was fine. He just seemed such a sweetheart, a compact ball of muscle, and he does have the sweetest face, he hasn't changed at all really. I do think he's totally happy there though, and Leigh has done a fantastic job on him, as in some of her photos from a recent show he is totally on the bit and looks amazing.
Of course, eventually we had to load Barnaby in the lorry, and it was a bit of a tear-jerker as the two horses didn't want to leave each other. They were such brothers, you see. Although Zak and Barnaby are now an item, they aren't as faithful as Max and Barnaby were, they were such loyal boys. If anyone picked on Max in the field, he used to go to Barnaby and tell him, and Barnaby used to go and sort them out, both at Lorna's and here. This is why I've waited so long to let them see each other again.
Mr O did take some photos, but I can't put them on until we've loaded the camera software on this new computer.
I just want to say, it's great to be back, even though it's only been a week, I've really missed my little blogworld. I'm off now to catch up on all your news...
and getting ready for a TREC competition tomorrow, the first one I'll be doing on my own. Am I nervous? You better believe it!
Back soon,
Mrs O.

A Busy Weekend

Well, this weekend has been incredibly busy. We've hardly been in the house.

On Saturday we took 'Er Indoors to have her annual vaccination booster. It's open surgery on a Saturday morning, so you just come and register and take your place in the waiting room until you're called. 'Er Indoors hates the vet. It stems from the one and only time we put her in kennels and she had to have the kennel cough jab, which actually isn't an injection, it's puffed up the dog's nose. She absolutely hated it and has never wanted to go to the vets since.

We waited ages to be seen. We couldn't help hearing the receptionist's conversations on the phone. At one point she said, "Yes, Mrs De Ville, that would be fine. Certainly Mrs De Ville, just bring them in on Thursday, that's no problem." Mr O and I looked at each other and shuddered.

Finally, it was our turn to be seen. Mr O put 'Er Indoors on the examining table. 'Er Indoors took a flying leap off it. Mr O hoisted her back up and held on for all he was worth. (I knew all that playing rugby for the navy would come in handy one day). The vet examined her all over. She said, "She's carrying a little weight." I thought, 'Blimey, you should see my horse.' 'Er Indoors hardly even noticed the actual injection. All done for another year.

We dropped 'Er back home, then went off to do the more exciting thing we'd planned - to go and see the film 'Inception' with Leonardo DiCaprio. We've seen the trailer and really wanted to go and see it. It is extremely good, but slightly surreal (all 2hrs and 28 mins of it). I do think Leo has honed himself as an actor, and his recent films have shown his impressive maturity, but more than that, there aren't many men who look as spellbindingly gorgeous as he does in a well cut suit. That's all I have to say about that (before I incriminate myself in any way!)

The film is slightly 'The Matrix' in style, but much better and very clever. I was a bit confused half way through, but really enjoyed it. I came out into the daylight, blinking, not sure if this was a dream, or if this was reality...

And so to Sunday, which was hectic, to say the least. First stop was church, for a family service, which was lovely.

Then up to Worksop

to celebrate

this young lady's third birthday.

The thought first struck me at the wedding, but came back to me more strongly today: I wonder if this little girl has any idea how many people love her? Parents, aunts, uncles, friends, grandparents, everybody adores her, nobody bears her the slightest malice. Do you know, at that age, that you are adored? I wonder.

Then we drove to near Nottingham, to drop Son 1 at home (At this stage you may be wondering just how large my family is!)

And then, as arranged, we drove to the yard of Max's new owner, to go and see the boy himself. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, Mr O and I recognised the place. The woman who'd bought my old mare Penny from me years ago, also liveried here. How strange. I sell all my old horses to the same yard!

We drove past grazing fields, and there he was. I'd recognise him anywhere. His new owner went and got him and he came poddling up. Of course, he hasn't changed a bit. She tacked him up and rode him. He did look sweet, but small, now I've got used to Barnaby's bulk ('summering well' is an understatement!) and very hairy, considering they've clipped a lot of his leg hair off. He seemed very well in himself, and not the slightest bit interested in me until I produced an apple at the end. I am glad he is well and happy. I have to say, I never went to visit Crispin in his new home, when I sold him, because I knew I would sob and want to take him back with me, but I knew if I saw Max I would be all right. I knew I had Barnaby to rush home to, and I'm glad to say he more than makes up for my loss, which is good, isn't it? It made me realise how far I've come with The Bardy Lad and that he is the horse I've truly been waiting all my life for.

And so today I am going to relax and enjoy sitting here, reaquainting myself with the four walls I've hardly seen all weekend!

Have a good week, everyone.

Mrs O.

Randoms

I have been having trouble looking Eeyore in the face, which is difficult because I usually drink out of this:




and lurking at the top of the stairs lives:



The reason being, that he bears a striking resemblance to:


I realise I haven't mentioned Max since he went, because it's been quite heart wrenching, but tonight I took his name plate off his stable door and put it away. I have moved on. Mr O has, too, and has said he is able to transfer his allegience from Barnaby to Zak. This is wonderful for me, too.


And now... introducing the Beverley Sisters!


How cute are these little darlings?


At the moment they are Abigail, Jemima and Max, although I am convinced they are all girls (how do you tell?) and that Max is soon to become Maxine.

They have moved into an outside pen, where we can keep the heater on in their little house, but they come out for a run round, which they really enjoy.






I am very attatched to them. They run to me and peck me. One of them was pecking my engagement ring. It doesn't hurt at all.




When they run round they are like little clockwork toys. So sweet. I am smitten.




We had a bit of a disaster in the garden on Sunday while we were fence judging as it was so windy at home our little portable greenhouse toppled over, spilling my cucumber plants everywhere. I am not a happy bunny. I doubt they'll recover now.
But I think my lettuces are ready for picking. I declare them a success and will definitely grow some more next year.




I have also finally been up to the top of the field and picked the rhubarb. I got stung by stinging nettles, as I hacked my way through. Guess who is going to spend tomorrow chopping and freezing rhubarb like it's going out of fashion?



And finally, I have mentioned that when Mr O owned Barnaby he was always clean and Max was always filthy. Since I've owned Barnaby he has decided it's his turn to be dirty. I think this photo speaks for itself really. It's a good job I love him.

Time Wasters

A woman came to view Max yesterday. Mr O rode him round the village and through the river the day before so he came back with pure white legs. He seems to be saying, "I'll do anything you want, just don't let dad ride me!" Can't think why.
I trimmed about eight inches off the end of his tail, as I'd come to put his rug on in the evening and he couldn't move forward as he was treading on the end of his tail and got stuck. As I may not be showing him this year, I decided to trim it, so now it's considerably shorter, but looks rather smart, and won't drag in the mud. I did a bit of discreet face trimming, too, which made him look quite good.
The woman arrived with her daughter at about 10am. Max was a bit miffed about being the only one in for so long and tried to get out, but nothing too naughty. He was fine with being tacked up, so I explained to them that they needed to drive up the road and turn left and I would ride Max up the road. They actually parked on the main road and watched me ride along, which is fair enough. I felt physically sick and nearly asked Mr O to ride him, but thought that would look rather suspicious, and had to get on with it. It was very windy, too, but suddenly the wind dropped and Max was remarkably well behaved. We turned down the lane, and I stopped where Ben the dog was barking his head off at him. Max was just looking about him, wondering why we'd stopped, and not taking a blind bit of notice of the dog.
I asked the woman to park on the verge, and we walked up to Jolly Farmer's with the geese honking and the cows moving about and Max ignorning it all. I got Mr O to open the manege gate so I didn't have to get off, and I rode Max in the school, just doing a couple of circles to see if he was going to spook at anything. He was very laid back, so I quit my stirrups, let go of the reins and rode him round the school with my hands on my hips.
I said he seemed fine, so the mother got on and rode him round. She said she hadn't ridden for ages, but seemed okay to me, but Max wasn't very active, but I think that was down to her riding. Then the daughter got on and rode him for a few minutes, doing a bit of walk and trot. She rode better than the mother and Max was more responsive.
Then I got back on and rode him home. I'd told them to drive up to the verge and park and I would canter past them on the left, which I did. Max was actually impeccable, as I stopped and started him twice, and he went straight from canter to trot, the second I requested it. I couldn't have asked for more.
They drove back to the farm and I rode back, and dismounted. I asked them if they were interested and the woman said he was stockier than she was looking for, and they had another horse to go and look at, and she would be in touch. I felt quite deflated. What a waste of time. I'd have thought his size was obvious from the photos in the advert, but maybe not.
As I was riding Max back, and he was being beautiful, I thought, 'why am I selling you?' but today it's been windy and he's been in a very silly mood. I thought, 'Oh yes, that's why!' I may need to be reminded from time to time.
Another woman is coming on Wednesday. She has a horse, but her daughter is looking for something to ride. They've had a loan horse who's been a bit of a disaster, so we'll see what happens there.
I decided to ride Barnaby to cheer myself up. Mr O came too, on Zak. Barnaby was quite full of himself, and I had to get off at one point to open a gate. The ground on the other side was really muddy and Barnaby was trying to run through it, and so was Zak. In the end I got off and ended up walking the entire length of the bridleway, as there is another gate at the other end. We got out onto the road, and I got on, but there is no way I'm going to be able to do that too many times on a ride, as he is higher up than Max, and I just don't have the strength. I need to look for rocks and things to use as a mounting block.
We rode up the road in high winds, and Barnaby was fabulous. At one point Mr O was cantering on the verge next to me (wish I'd thought of that!) and Barnaby wasn't bothered. I thought it would make him want to race, but it didn't. We did have a canter on one verge, though and they were fine, which is brilliant. I don't feel ready to canter them in open country yet, but it's only a matter of time.
When you ride Barnaby, the whole of his life is focused on going forwards, so all his energy is channelled into that. With Max, 80% of his energy is focused on looking from side to side, to see what's out to get him, and it makes a big difference. Give me a bold, brave horse any day. I think I will really grow to love Barnaby, but he needs to get some of his balance onto his back end. For those of you who don't know, lots of horses lean on their front end, which means they lean on your arms when you're riding, expecting you to hold them up, and Barnaby is like this, whereas Max is very well balanced and carries himself.
Mr O says, 'Barnaby likes to run,' which he does, but it doesn't mean he should all the time. He's got to listen to, and respect the requests of his rider. Lots of children like to crayon on your sofa, but it doesn't mean you let them, does it? This is why I need Mr O to stop riding him, so that I can put the work in to help Barnaby balance himself and 'get off the fore-hand,' which I will. Lots of schooling, that's the thing.
Mr O seems to have had a bit of a revelation while mucking out yesterday. He did all three horses and let me sleep, which was fantastic. He said he's realised that I do it seven days a week and never get a break, and that from now on I can have a lay-in on Saturday mornings! I can't believe it. It's only taken him until April to realise. I don't know why this has occured to him now, but I am eternally grateful. What actually happens is that he gets up at, say 6.50am on a Saturday, goes and feeds the horses, then makes a cup of tea and brings it up, sits on the bed with me and puts the television on! I end up getting up earlier at the weekend than I do during the week. I am like a zombie for the rest of the day, and Mr O wonders why I'm going off riding. It's because I am so tired I am actually falling over and falling into things, but I am expected to get a very strong horse in and ride him. Once I go out and feed the horses, I don't come back in again, so I don't understand it. I go and put haylage in the field, and by the time I've finished, Barnaby is ready to go out, so I rug him up, put him out and start mucking out. Mr O has just realised that this is the way forward. Allelujah! Maybe now I can get some of my energy back and enjoy riding again.

Post script: While writing this, the woman that came to try Max out has just rung to say she won't be pursuing the sale, as Max isn't quite what she's looking for. Right-o, then.

Making A Spectacle of Myself ... Again

Finally, the photos have arrived, so I can tell you all about what happened on Sunday. This was our second TREC competition. If you want to read about the disasterous first one, you need to go here.
We looked up our start times on Saturday, and I was delighted to see we weren't on until twenty past one. This meant I could have a lay-in, actually eat some breakfast (not nervous for once - if only I'd known!) and bath me 'orse before we set off.
The nights are a lot warmer now and the horses are too hot with rugs on, so Max slept naked on Saturday night. I'm not sure what he slept in (and I don't mean pyjamas) but it made very unattractive brown stains on his white bits, so I took him outside for a bit of a scrub down. I also washed his tail. Let's just say it took a while for the water to run clear.
We loaded the boys into the lorry and set off to Melton Mowbray, in Leicestershire. We were going to Brooksby College, and it was quite a distance. We put the postcode into the Satnav and set off in good faith. All was going swimmingly until we got into Melton when my written instructions started to differ from the Satnav's instructions to Mr O. Then we turned off the road, onto a tiny lane, which led to a field, and the Satnav announced smugly, 'Destination.'
We were stuck. In the end we managed to drive over a little bridge, and up a track full of pot-holes, with the horses shouting, "Steady on!" from the back. We stopped a jogger and asked him if we were anywhere near Brooksby College. "Oh no," he said, "That's miles away," but thankfully gave us quite good directions, and we set off again, full of hope, but slightly mystified by the Satnav's blatant treachery.
After a while, we'd followed all the jogger's directions, and the college was still nowhere in sight. We asked another passer-by who said it was another three miles and we couldn't miss it. Fortunately he was as good as his word, and soon we were chugging up the long, winding drive to the college buildings.
We were pretty relieved to find we were in plenty of time, so we went in to register and decided to walk the course. We'd learned a great deal from our previous attempt at this intriguing sport (intriguing because it looks a doddle and plainly isn't). I'd had the idea of bringing a pen and writing each obstacle with its corresponding number on my hand, as once you set off you've got to know where you're going, as you have five and a half minutes to complete all ten obstacles, and in Doncaster I ran out of time. This turned out to be a master stroke, as we will see.
We went and tacked the horses up and brought them into a little warm-up arena. Max was amazingly calm. The holes in the walls didn't bother him, he wasn't desperate to be with Barnaby, and worked in very well, really listening to me and responding well.
Mr O was number 29 and I was 30, so obviously he was called in before me. I waited quite a while, and then took Max out to see how Mr O was getting on in the main arena.
Barnaby was being very well behaved, and did most of the obstacles. Mr O went a bit fast under the low branches, but you get more points if you do it in canter. Afterwards he said instead of keeping his head down, he looked up to see if he'd missed the branches, and then knocked them all off!

He dismounted and did the S bend really well (I didn't even get to do this last time as I'd run out of time) and went over to Obstacle 5, which is two painted circles on the floor. You have to lead your horse into the inner circle and make him stand, then go outside the outer circle and your horse must stand motionless for ten seconds. Mr O stood Barnaby up, then walked off behind him, and Barnaby said, "Oh look, there's Max!" and trotted over to see him. It did look very funny actually, and we did laugh. Most of his obstacles went really well, apart from the rein back. So Mr O came out and I went in. I'm glad I asked loads of questions when I walked the course as some obstacles we led the horses last time we had to ride this time, and vice versa.
So this is the course we had to do:

• Control of paces: canter round the outside of the arena, as slowly as possible, without going back to trot and without stopping until you reach the cones at the end.
• Four strides later there was a small jump.
• Ride on round to the low branches, and ride underneath them (which involves laying down on your horse as the branches are very low). More points if you trot, most points if you canter.
• Ride between two poles (with pigs at the front to scare your horse).
• Dismount and lead your horse through an S bend of wooden poles on the floor (I've only ever ridden this before).
• Dismount, run stirrups up and walk horse into circle. Horse must halt in the circle.
• Lead your horse over to the mounting block in the corner. Time starts when you walk inside the white painted circle. You must walk in, put stirrups down and mount from the offside in under 15 seconds.
• Ride up to, and along the wooden bridge.
• Ride through the weaving poles. Cantering gets most points, then trotting, then walking. Nobody told us this last time, so we walked.
• Walk between two poles. Halt level with the cones, and rein back, without touching, knocking or stepping outside them.
• Go forwards between the poles, turn and jump the blue water tray and the brush fence.
• Finish by doing the fastest walk you can manage, without trotting, round the edge of the arena in the same place you did the canter test.

So how did we do?

Max entered the arena, had a good look around and said, "Oh it's this, where I walk around and trash a few things and we come out, why didn't you say?" I circled him a few times until the judge said we could start, then set off for my canter test. He went on the correct leg and went round beautifully. We got to the end of the cones, and he could see the jump ahead. He locked on and cantered to it immaculately. I thought, 'This is perfect.' We got to the fence, Max stopped dead and I went sailing over his head. I could hear the pole come down and thought, 'what am I landing on then?' as under the pole was a little step and I'd landed on my back on top of it. I was slightly winded and sat up. I had a pain in my rib cage, but was fine. Lots of people rushed up to see if I was okay, and Mr O was outside wondering what on earth had happened. I don't quite know myself, and all the judges said Max was going for the fence. Whether something had distracted him I don't know, but he's done enough jumping in his life not to let that happen. Bear in mind he's been really good in my lessons and doing the cross country, so I don't understand it.

(Mr O showing us how to do the jump properly.)

Anyway, I got back on and this is where I was glad I'd written the course down, so I could gather myself and ride round to the next obstacle, as I was quite disoriented, as you can imagine.

I rode round to the 'low branches' (really some canes on very high jump wings). I laid down on Max and tried with all my might to get him to go underneath, but he was having none of it. He nearly went in sideways, but soon backed out again. I passed on that obstacle in the end (which gives me zero points, you can't be eliminated in TREC) and went on to the straight poles on the floor. Max had a good look at the pigs, but I'd had enough by then, and kicked him on. He realised I meant business and set off in a good trot. Nobody told us last time that you could trot or canter along this, so I got minimum points. This time we trotted and Max was fine.

I hopped off quick, ran Max's stirrups up and took his reins over his head. I lead him into the S bend poles, and he followed me quite happily. He did it perfectly, so that clocked up a few points.

Next was the stand still in the circle. Max stood still for quite a while before very slowly making his way towards me, but he was much better than last time.

I led him over to the mounting block, put his stirrups down and tried to mount, but he kept swinging away from the block. He kept looking at me as if to say, "What are you doing?" as I never normally get on from the off-side. Barnaby had done it perfectly, but afterwards I was surprised at how many horses didn't like it. It's not Max's fault at all that I can't get on from the off-side (duffer!) but he could have stood still for me.

Then came the bridge. There wasn't anything spooky in front of it like last time. Instead, there was a set of teddies on a blanket on the left hand side. Max looked as if to say, "Do you want me to...er... rub them out?" There were children present. I couldn't let it get ugly. Max wouldn't go near the bridge and I moved on, but at least no soft toys were maimed in the process.

(Barnaby doing the bridge, without hesitation. Can you see the innocent bystanders?)

Next came the weaving poles, which I decided to do in trot, and Max was perfect. We only walked last time, so I was very pleased. Then it was the rein back. Max started off okay, but then his back end swung out until he'd gone right outside the poles. Oh well. Number 10 was the water jump and the brush fence, and I decided to pass, as I didn't trust Max after the fiasco at the first fence. He is so reliable at jumping normally, I'm quite phased by this.

All in all, though, Max was much better behaved than last time and I enjoyed it a lot more. It wasn't as formal as the one in Doncaster, and I do like the photos. TREC is unlike any other horse sport. We decided it was too far to travel just to do some obstacles, but we will do some more outdoor TREC in the summer, which will involve the orienteering phase as well.
It was a beautifully sunny day, so when we got back we turned the horses out so they could run round and roll and have a drink. Zak came dashing up to report in. "I've been in charge while you've been away Sir Barnaby, and it's been absolute chaos!" I'm glad I wasn't the only one who'd had a challenging day.

Making a Spectacle of Myself

It's been a very hectic weekend. We went to a competition on Sunday, and I want to tell you all about it, but there was a professional photographer there, and I want to use the photos we've bought to explain what went on, so that post is on hold until the photos arrive.
In the meantime, Mr O and I decided to go on a hack on Saturday morning. He rode Barnaby and I rode Maximus. I asked Mr O where he wanted to go, and he said, "Ashover," and my heart sank.
This ride involves going up and down some very steep and bumpy bridleways, which I'm not very keen on at all. We rode down towards the village and met a man coming the other way (As I was going to St Ives...) leading a donkey. Now Max is scared of many things: rocks, flowers, cows, to name but a few, but most of all he is frightened of donkeys, and turned, without further ado, and fled up the road, with me hauling on the reins trying to stop him. We pulled up about 50 feet further on, before he realised he'd abandoned Barnaby in an 'every man for himself' moment and turned round to see how he was faring (but pretty certain Barney would have the upper hoof).
The donkey was small, dark brown and called Maud. I got off Max and led him up to say hello. Barnaby was already introducing himself, "Hello, pretty." Maud batted her eyelashes. Max insisted she wasn't pretty at all, and smelled funny, and could we get on, please?
I managed to get back on and we continued into the village, past the Post Office, round the corner to the pub, and then up the road into Milltown. This meant we avoided all the steep bits so I cheered up considerably. We rode down to the river, then through the ford. The water was up above Barnaby's knees, so as you can imgine, it was up to Max's stomach. I was quite pleased, as when we got home I discovered his feathers were really clean! If I'd known that I'd have stayed in it a little longer.
We followed the river bank round, then up a steep bit, and back onto the road, to make our way home. Deeply satisfying.
We had to go to the opticians and pick up our new glasses, and mine are... hideous! When I had my trying-on session I liked a different pair, but Mr O and the optician said they were too big for my face, and I let them talk me into getting this pair. I have such bad eyesight that if I take my specs off, I can't see what I look like in a different pair with no lenses in. Now the opticians have a machine which takes a photo of you in the trying-on pair, then you can put your own specs back on and see what you look like in the photo, which is a brilliant help to someone like me who is as blind as a bat.
So I put my new glasses on and part of me felt I looked about sixty and part of me looked as if I was six. I seriously hate them, and now I'm stuck with them. I always take time to adjust to a new pair, but these are a mistake. Next time I will trust my own instincts.
Then I had to have drops in my eyes, to dilate my pupils, then go in and have a retina check, as I am so short sighted, to make sure there are no tears in my retina. This involved the optician getting very, very close to me. I found it very invasive, and it went on for ages. I was very uncomfortable with it, and couldn't wait to get out. Not a great experience all round, really. There's nothing wrong with my eyes, anyway, apart from my blatant short-sightedness, thank goodness.

Go horsey!

I came downstairs this morning and thought I'd walked through a vortex into someone else's house. This one was so tidy, it couldn't possibly be mine. By the end of breakfast it had assumed the proportions I recognised. Mr O has a fear and terror of throwing anything away. I am not even sure if he knows where the bin is. This means I am constantly throwing packaging away in the kitchen. One meal and my house resembled a building site. Good old messy familiarity.
I soon realised I felt too sick to eat, because... in a rash moment last week I rang Hazelbarrow Cross Country course and booked us in.
Our plans were slightly re-arranged, though, as the whole point of going was to take Zak. Mr O picked his feet out and discovered a missing shoe on a front foot. How come we didn't notice yesterday?! So Mr O took Zak's tack out of the lorry and put Barnaby's in instead. Max was in denial, hiding at the back of the stable, hoping I might forget he was there. I went in with his travel boots, and he jumped. My goodness, I have a horse who is scared of his own travel boots. It's like a person being frightened of their own slippers.
I managed to get them on him, and put his travel rug on, and a red tail bandage. Barnaby was loaded up first, and went straight up the ramp, so I got Max out quickly, as Barnaby gets stressed in the lorry if he can't see Max straight away. Max went straight up, too, so we heaved the ramp up and away we went.
We did go a bit wrong on the way there. There were far too many roundabouts to go round. The satnav was confused, bless 'er. We pulled into a petrol station and asked the staff, who fortunately knew where we were trying to get to. We got back in the lorry, went round a few roundabouts until we all got dizzy, and we were there. The satnav has gone in for counselling.
It was quite a nice yard, nearly as muddy as ours, and full of 'stuff', bits of metal sheeting and tractor parts. There was a sign on the gate saying, 'No Tipping'. It was tempting to say, "You do have a problem with people dumping rubbish, don't you?" for the farmer to say, "Actually this is all ours." Good job I know when to keep my mouth shut. It gave Max lots to ogle at while I tacked him up, though.
The farmer was really nice, actually, and gave us directions down to the course. We each signed a disclamer - you know the sort of thing, doing a Girl Guide salute while reciting, 'I promise, if I die out here today, not to sue anyone or hold anyone else responsible, really the whole thing was entirely my fault, how was I to know that tree was there?' That sort of thing.
Barnaby was absolutely raring to go, and I was taking Max because I wanted to give him a run, but I don't believe in galloping when I don't know where I am (sure-fire way to gallop off a cliff). I felt so sick while we were tacking up I decided to tell myself I was just going for a hack and wasn't going to jump anything. I am amazed at my own ability to convince myself. Really - I'm so gullible. Then I saw the first fence, a little log and couldn't resist it. Max just flew over it and we carried on from there. We had a good old canter up the hill, then slowed down to check out the other obstacles.
It's a very low-key place, nothing fancy about the fences, but they'd used the terrain really well. We came to the water jump. I am very fortunate that Max likes water, and doesn't hesitate. The bottom looked quite solid. Mr O was trying to get Barnaby to jump in the highest bit. Barnaby said no. He also said, "Look I can run backwards, or sideways, I don't mind." Mr O saw the error of his ways, and followed me into the water from the low side. Barnaby was fine with this, so we went round again, then tried him from the higher side and he jumped straight in. It was good fun, actually, as I thought Max was going to surge up out of the water like this:



but he just seemed to do an energetic step and he was out. Bear in mind that we'd taken the decision not to wear body protectors and not to put boots on the horses, so neither of us wanted to fall off, but we were both totally confident.
We rode round and jumped some more logs, then went down a long field and into the woods. It was very muddy in places, so we sank a bit, but most of it was beautiful. Then to my dismay, there was a big ditch with a little bridge over it, about a foot wide (ie, tiny). Mr O (known as 'Gung-Ho' to his friends) went straight down, across and up the ditch. Problem for Mrs O: a sure and certain knowledge, based on six years experience, that Max will jump the ditch. I was not ready for this today, so I hopped off. Then I had a different problem. If I tried to lead Max over the ditch, he would probably still try to jump it, and either drag me across or land on me, thus killing me in the process. I took his reins over his head, and decided to walk over the bridge, and he could deal with the ditch as he saw fit. I can't describe my astonishment when I realised he had opted to follow me over the bridge. I could hear his little hooves clip-cloping on the stone. I didn't dare look behind me to put him off, and just kept walking. We have a TREC competition next week. If he doesn't ride over the bridge there, I will be having serious words with him, now he's proved he can do it. I was very proud of him, to be honest.
Not much further on from this there were two logs blocking the track. There was no option but to jump them. I asked Mr O if I could go in front. It makes Max listen to me and jump better than just blindly following Barnaby. I gave him a squeeze, and away he went, clearing them both beautifully, first a quite big one, two strides, then straight over the smaller one. I was grinning like an absolute idiot afterwards.
We came to a gate at the end, rode round some fields and then made our way back to the start, and jumped some more fences. I love cross country, I always have, and prefer it to showjumping. There's no logic to that. Any normal person would prefer showjumping, knowing that if you knock a fence, it will come down, whereas a rock-solid cross country fence is going to stay motionless, while the rider comes down, but I have a thing about Max getting his legs caught in loads of poles rolling about on the floor and falling over or something. Silly really.
I was quite content with all of this, as Max isn't particularly fit at the moment and we have our normal jumping lesson on Monday, so we decided to call it a day there and came home. I am totally impressed with Max's behaviour as he listened to me the whole time, had an absolute blasting gallop up the fields without getting silly and coped with lots of new sights. Going cross country on this horse is one of the greatest pleasures of my life, and it's thrilling to know I can still do it.
And now the adrenaline is slowly leaving my body, I think it's going to be a very early night for me. Busy day tomorrow...

I Remember, I Remember

I have been having the most wonderful time stamping and painting. The original ink I bought in Hobbycraft takes absolute hours, if not days to dry. So of course, all my colouring comes to nothing because the ink runs and makes it look awful. I was beginning to think this whole stamping thing was highly overrated.
Then I read about the Stazon ink pads, and finally bought one this weekend. It has transformed everything. The ink dries really quickly, so you can start painting more or less straight away. I've also bought a set of watercolour paints, and they are fantastic. I've had such fun practising over the weekend. I'll be making our anniverary card sometime in the next few days, as I've bought a beautiful set of stamps, so I'll show you the result soon.
I really, really wish I'd bought that parchment paper...

- O -

We managed to get to church yesterday, and it was wonderful, but quite heart-rending. A team of nine of the guys have just got back from a trip to India. We support the work of a wonderful man called Pastor Abraham who has done amazing work in Delhi, setting up schools and homes for orphans. He said some of the children they've taken in didn't even know their names or how old they were, so they gave them names and ages, so they had an identity to build on. Isn't that awful?

Some of the women in the group that went gave very tearful testimonies, of little toddlers in a line asleep in the street. They had to go on a 20 hour train journey from the airport, which one woman said was fine once she'd flicked the cockroaches off the bed, and shooed out all the mice. She said she still struggled to sleep, and woke up at a station. She looked out of the window and saw a woman bathing her tiny baby. She said it took a while to realise where she was, and then realised the woman was bathing her baby in a muddy puddle in the middle of the railway track.

That's all I have to say about that.

- O -

Mr O rode Barnaby and Zak yesterday, and they came back looking well and fit and happy - the horses, that is, I'm not sure the same can be said about Mr O! I think I'll do a feature on Zak soon, as he's still quite new to us in a way. I'll give you some background and history on him.

I got up this morning and knew it was time for my riding lesson. I'd insisted that I start jumping in this lesson, and felt physically sick as I turned the other horses out.

I went back in and managed to chew on a slice of toast, before giving up and coming out to groom Max and tack him up, all the while thinking of reasons to ring up and cancel, and telling myself not to be so stupid.

In the end, I decided to pretend I've never jumped Max before, and have no previous history of what he's like, and for some reason, that really calmed me down, and we set off up the road together, on this gloriously sunny morning.

Max was an absolute star all the way through the lesson. There was no leaping, bucking, or jumping that Nijinksy would have been proud of (hold that thought!), my legs were still, Max's transitions were perfect. (A transition just means changing from one gait to another, eg from walk to trot, trot to canter etc.) It's easy to speed up the trot rather than change to canter, and generally be all over the place, but today we made a good picture together.

Then the trotting poles came out. Max likes trotting poles. He never lets me down. Remember, he loves to jump, so trotting poles are a doddle. He has seen them thousands of times in his life. So today, he trotted merrily up to them, and stopped dead in front of the first one, going, "What the heck are they?!"

We went round again. And again, and he was absolutely fine in the end. Then Lucy put two of the poles into a little cross pole, and Max sailed over. It felt fantastic. He was superb. I remembered everything, including why I love this horse. I was as high as a kite afterwards, and can't wait to go again next week. I have promised myself a lesson up until the end of March, but I may extend it a little into April, we'll see. The showing season will have started by then.

I came out of the riding school, fully intending to walk home, when Max looked at me and at his back, as if to say, "It's okay, hop on, I'll take you home." I was astonished. It was like a boyfriend offering to take you home on his motorbike - 'don't worry, it's perfectly safe.' So I got on, and home we came. I tried a trot, and Max didn't even want to do that. We just ambled along together, admiring the scenery, in perfect harmony... and I have been grinning like an imbecile ever since. Riding does that to me. That's probably why I'm still doing it.

Horsey, Horsey, Don't You Stop

Mr O wandered down sleepily to feed the horses this morning, and was met by Fudge. Standing there. Out of his stable.
And while he was out he'd eaten... half a bucket of sugar beet, loads of Alfa-A, most of three haynets, half a sack of carrots and Zak, Barnaby and Max's breakfast. It was like Quentin Tarantino meets The Very Hungry Caterpillar.
There was a chunk of his mane on the floor outside Barnaby's door, where Barnaby had clearly reprimanded him for being there (and eating his breakfast) and a pile of droppings on the floor. What goes in...
Mr O came upstairs and suggested I come and have a look.
Obviously my first worry was colic. I rushed down. Fudge had retreated to the back of his stable, and looked totally guilty. "My tummy hurts!" he said. "Of course it does," shouted Max, "It's full of my flippin breakfast!"
We swept everything up, and I went into Fudge's stable to listen to his stomach. It was totally silent. (A healthy horse's gut should make lots of burbling noises.) I stayed with him for ages, but he wasn't showing any signs. I think he has been remarkably fortunate.
Mr O rode Zak and I decided to lunge Max, as all the horses stayed in yesterday while the weather was so bad. He was quite calm actually, just doing a funny canter with his head on the floor, hoping to snip off some grass with his teeth.
Barnaby had worked himself into a lather by the time we got back in. He was furious that his dad rode Zak first and not him. As soon as Mr O started grooming him and tacking him up he went silent and relaxed. Silly horse.
It was snowing when we left, so Max was headshaking as he doesn't like it, like in the summer when the flies bother him.
We rode down into the village, and Max was a superstar. He didn't spook at anything. The village was quite busy, and he looked at everything, but wasn't naughty at all. We rode past the Black Swan, then turned for home, past the playing fields and tennis courts, then up the steep hill, which was the whole point of going. Max just rolled his shoulders and up he went. Barnaby tried to get faster and faster, and I noticed Mr O was leaning forward quite a bit.
The thing is, when we were at Lorna's Mr O always used to let Barnaby go, and Max could canter to keep up, but I can't let him canter up the road, and why should a horse just go faster and faster anyway? It's very annoying, as Max goes into overdrive and whizzes up the hill to keep up, which isn't on. I asked Mr O to maintain the rhythm, sit back a bit and keep control, which he did, and it makes a big difference. If he wants to do some showing this year, he's going to have to get his act together.
We came back and Missis was there (she only came back from America yesterday and looked dreadful from the flying and tiredness) so I told her about Fudge as she was just about to tack him up for Nine to ride. He did look okay actually, but was looking at me, pleading with me not to tell on him. Missis was quite taken aback to hear this news, as you can imagine. Later when Pongo was tacking him up he said, "I don't think this saddle fits him properly really." I thought, 'No of course it doesn't, he's had a three course breakfast.' Naughty pony.
We've been into town, and got the one and only parking place in the entire car park. Arcade Crafts had a demo on, which was quite good. She was using parchment paper, which I really like the look of. I wish I'd bought some now. I bought a few things, as yesterday I realised it's our wedding anniversary on March 10th and I haven't done anything about it yet - oops! Better get cracking. Never mind, can't have everything .
But you can have surprising things that turn up in your letter box all the way from Switzerland! The macrame book has arrived from Trudi, and this lovely card was attached to it. Mr O would like you to know that despite popular opinion, this is not him. His hat has a chin strap!

Confession Time

Actually, it occurs to me I have a few things to confess. Do you remember I said I had to confess something about sewing? Well I'd better get it off my chest, now I've mentioned it.
When I was about 14 I did needlework as a school lesson, and hated it, and was hopeless at it. To this day I can sew on a button and repair a hem that's come down, and that's about it.
Anyway, we had exams when we were 14, to help us decide which subjects to do for 'O' Level, so sure enough, the inevitable needlework exam came around.
To my surprise, and joy, the exam took place in the needlework room, where there were helpful and informative posters all around the walls, with diagrams showing you how to thread a sewing machine, etc, and it transpired that just such information was required in the exam, so I merrily copied everything off the walls onto the exam paper.
I can't recall what my record was up until then, but imagine my teacher's surprise when the exam results showed I'd got 100% and she felt she'd discovered a heretofore unrecognised star in the making.
After that, she consulted me regularly, with such questions as, "Do you think the girls would enjoy making this, Jane?" to which I desperately wanted to reply, "Don't ask me, love, I wouldn't have a clue."
I never found out what her reaction was when she found out I'd decided to take up Geography instead ...

- O -

Mr O and I walked the horses through the snow yesterday, down the hill to the riding school, for our lesson. The track down to the school was extremely icy, so the instructor advised us to walk slowly and carefully, as we might slip. The words were barely out of her mouth, when 'Crash!' there I was, lying on the floor. I landed on my hip, and that familiar burning sensation began immediately. It was almost worth it just to see the look of astonishment on Max's face. His blue eyes were very bright, and he seemed to be saying, "Blimey, I didn't know she could do it all by herself!"

I managed to haul myself into the saddle, once we reached the arena, and the lesson began. Our teacher soon fell into the trap of admiring Barnaby's way of going, and general showing off, so not to be outdone, I actually heard Max squeal, "Hee-hee!" in a high pitched voice, before leaping three strides forwards, doing his 'airs above the ground' again. I managed to halt him before too long, though, and get him under control.

Then we had, "I want to be with Barnaby!" and more leaping about, head between his knees this time, but I got the better of him again. What fun these lessons are turning out to be, such a wise investment.

Anyway, he did settle down after a while, and put in some very nice work. I also remembered to put the stirrup straps on, which were amazing. They hold my legs totally still, and further back than I would normally have them.

Barnaby was a bit naughty cantering on the wrong leg on the right rein, but it has to be said that Mr O's riding could have done with a bit of spit and polish. I know why. It's because when you school your horse, you decide where to ask for canter, but when somebody tells you, "Canter between H and C," you panic, because you know the jump is coming, and you must be sorted so you can get some canter strides in before the fence, and it just goes to pieces. He never has that problem out hacking. But this has made me realise that I am going to have to school Barnaby at least once a week, as well as Max, so I hope the weather improves soon.

Mr O was pretty tired afterwards, which shows I am fitter than I give myself credit for. I managed to get back up the hill without incident, and we were home in time for tea and medals.

- O -

And now for my second confession of the day. There is no way I can soften this, deny it or pretty it up, so here goes...

We have lived here for just over a year, and I haven't been to a dentist in all of that time. There - I've said it! It wasn't too painful, unlike the dental treatment I've just received, which was very painful indeed. The nice Spanish lady in the white coat wanted me to bite down on a piece of plastic, so she could take an x-ray of my wisdom tooth. These pieces of plastic presumably only come in one size, and this one was miles too big for my mouth, so biting on it caused it to cut into my gum, causing the most excruciating pain. Obviously the dentist looked at me as if to say, "What on earth's the matter with you, silly child?" and strolled outside to take the x-ray, savouring every moment.

I must just digress here for a moment to ask, would you ever invite a dentist to dinner? I certainly wouldn't. I could imagine their looks of admonishment at every course, "Well that'll give you cavities!" How could you sit and enjoy your gateau after that?

So now they want me to go back next week to have the tooth extracted. I am none too keen on this idea at all. It seems quite happy there, why upset it? I am hoping Missis will be able to take me, otherwise I shall have to walk down, which will take roughly a week and a half.

We whizzed off from there to Tesco, where I found March's issue of Your Horse, and sure enough, I am in it, a minute picture of me and the Boy, on page eight. But the most brilliant thing is that there is a picture of my new penfriend Trudi on her horse Starlett over the page, so now I know what she looks like. I must tell you, she is 69 and still riding (a very lovely horse). If I am still riding at that age, I'll be amazed.

Sunny Days

It is traditional that the British always talk about the weather. All I can say is, if you've ever wondered why, come and live here for a while, and the reason will become obvious. Yesterday it snowed every hour, on the hour. In between it was brilliant sunshine. I got the horses in at 1pm as it was blizzarding. But today was the first really sunny day since I-don't-know-when. Spring is in the air, and not a moment too soon.
Yesterday I had Seven and Nine before school, so Pongo could take Missis to the station. Because of that I was late doing the horses, and it seemed to take me forever to muck out. It always does on the first day Missis is away, I wonder why that is? (Answers on a post card!)
I also had the boys after school and in the evening so Pongo could go and play tennis, so I ended up babysitting until ten o'clock.
I did get to do some sewing, though, and started a new cross stitch, which is quite cute. Plus I managed to watch 'Becoming Jane'. Somebody should have told me James McAvoy is in it. If I'd known that I'd have watched it ages ago. Anne Hathaway is very good as Jane Austen. Her accent is quite good. But the real scene stealer has got to be Julie Walters as Jane's mother. You can see if her mother was really like that, that she would be her inspiration for Mrs Bennett. But James McAvoy...
I managed to be a lot quicker today, largely due to the fact that Mr O fed round before he went to work, so I just had to swap rugs and put all the horses out. I was, in fact, so much quicker that I decided to do some 'work' with Max in the afternoon. I set out the obstacles in the lunge pen and took him in (after a good groom, and general smooching around). He had one look at the sacks-on-sticks and went, 'Oh yes, I remember those,' and put his head down for some serious eating. I had him on the lunge line and picked his head up and we started weaving in and out of the sacks. Last time I just made him walk past them, this time we walked in between. He had a little look, but didn't really hesitate. It was a bit windier today than it was last time, which was handy, as it flapped the sacks about, but Max didn't care at all, and stood eating the grass about four inches away from them. Not too stressed, then?
I put two buckets in front of the rubber matting (buckets are very contrary - on the surface terrifying, but could contain food) and walked Max in between. He didn't hesitate. We went round and round, pausing every so often to snatch some grass. Horses are said to be 'trickle feeders'. Max thinks this is a highly overrated concept, and prefers scoffing as much as possible, in the shortest possible time, so he did.
In the end I asked him to walk onto the rubber matting, which he did. Then I halted him, and asked him to step backwards off it, which he also promptly did. I was thrilled. It was such a sunny afternoon, I decided to go for a walk with him, so we set off up the road. We passed a big lorry with a hi-ab on the back, parked on the lane. Max walked past without a hint of spookiness whatsoever. Don't forget this is the horse that passed two fire engines, an ambulance and an over-turned car a couple of weeks ago, not to mention the helicopter. You never can tell with horses.
We walked up to Terrifying Rock. I gradually moved him closer. He didn't take any notice of the rock. I nudged his head towards it. He was inches away. I said, "Look Max, Terrifying Rock!" He said, "Yes mum, very nice, but it's right next to Delicious Grass!" He ate grass. We strolled home. I still love him.

Bearing Gifts, We Traverse Afar

Finally, the day I have been waiting for, came yesterday, for two reasons:
1. We rode. At last. It has been killing me not to go out. We had to stick to the main roads, as a lot of the side roads are still snow covered or icy. We went up Birkin Lane, which confused the horses, as we've never done it before, but I knew there wouldn't be much traffic. It turned out to be a lot more hilly than I'd expected. I was planning to either turn round and come home, or see if we could get up the Manor bridleway, but there was a sheet of ice in the gateway, so we decided not to risk it. Max has a total panic if he slides on ice, and I didn't want to be on him if it happened. We decided to go on a bit further, then when we'd had enough, to turn and come back home. I was expecting Max to try a canter on the way home, as it would all be steeply uphill, but to my surprise he went straight into canter up the first hill, facing away from home, and was off. I shouted to Mr O to stop, which he did, in the nick of time, and Max managed to stop himself without crashing into Barnaby, but he was in a bolting mood. I shouldn't really be surprised, as they're on half-day turnout, plus an increase in feed since the weather became ridiculously cold. Plus we are riding them straight from the stable in the mornings, whereas at Lorna's we would have turned them out for an hour before riding them. I desperately need to take Max somewhere to let off some steam, even if it's in a large menage. I might book myself in at the riding school, just to let him have a blast round without getting out of hand.
2. We came back and mucked out and I blitzed the house, and before we knew it, it was time to set off for Abby's. It is strange to see that as soon as you come out of Derbyshire into Nottinghamshire, there is no snow at all. It's quite surreal. I had rung Abby to ask, "Did I say I would bring something?" and she said, "Yes mum, a pudding." Gasp. Fortunately her Tesco was open, so we performed an emergency manouvre and went in to buy a chocolate gateau, a lemon cheesecake and a trifle. Yummo. I still had that strange, "David isn't here," sensation, which I don't like at all. I miss him so much.
Then it was time to play Santa Claus with the grandchildren (and the children, for that matter). We got Ebony a Pepa Pig house, which she loved, and a cuddly Pepa Pig. We got Ben 10 things for Christian, cars for Jake and sleepsuits for Caelan, as he is too young to know what's going on really. He is a very contented, smiley baby. Oh, and guess who forgot to take the camera? Gutted.
Abby gave us a beautiful photo of Ebony. I will have to find a lovely frame to do it justice. Lisa got me a jewellery set, which was a total surprise. I realised I wasn't wearing any, so put it all on, there and then.
Christian sat on my lap nearly all afternoon, playing with his DS. It amazes me how capable such young children are on this little computer. Six is the same. I am so glad I knew what Christian was talking about, as he played Mario Kart, and I renewed my relationship with Mario and Luigi. Christian was his usual chatty self. I just find him totally adorable. He is so bright and funny.
Lisa got Ebony the Disney dressing up outfits, for Snow White, Belle from Beauty and the Beast, and Cinderella. She looked absolutely stunning in them, hence my misery at forgetting the camera. It was quite funny to see the stroppy side of her, as when we go, she is normally on her own, but she is two and Jake is three, and they don't always see eye to eye, and Ebony doesn't always get her own way. Her frowny face is very cute, she so reminds me of Catherine and Rachel when they were little.
Christian had sat with me the whole time, quite contentedly, then suddenly announced, "I don't love you, you know!" He likes to see what effect this will have. Unfortunately for him, I have had a hand in raising numerous children, and have been around the block a bit. I said, "That's okay, actually, because... I have enough love for both of us!" and started tickling him. He seemed more than satisfied with this as a response. Then he said, "I have another granny, you know." I said, "I know, but she's not as nice as me, is she?" He didn't know what to say. I said, "For a start, she's not as tall as me, is she?" He thought about this. Then I said, "Anyway, if she's any good, tell her to bring it on, I'll arm wrestle her any day." He looked highly amused at the prospect, then challenged me to an arm wrestle, not really knowing what it was. I laid down on the floor with him and showed him what to do, and beat him hollow. I may as well, while I can. Then before I could get up, Jake came and sat on me, saying, "You're my horsey!" I said, "Well if I'm a horsey, I'm going to buck you off!" and tipped him onto the floor, which he found hysterically funny, and got back on for another go.
By then, fortunately, it was time to eat, so we all went and helped ourselves to the lovely buffet Abby had prepared. I collapsed back onto the sofa. Sadly, soon it was time to go. Ebony never wants us to leave, and followed us out of the door. She is so sweet.
For some reason, I was absolutely exhausted by the time we got home. I can't think why. It's not like I'm sixty or seventy, is it? Well worth it, though, I love days like this.

Schooling

The wind was howling round the house again when I got up this morning, but when I went outside it was a flat calm. Very strange. And as it wasn't raining, I decided to take Max down to the school. I needed to pay Jolly Farmer anyway, so I tucked an envelope with the money in it, inside my jacket, and set off. As we turned into his driveway, there was a horse in the front field with a whole haylage bale to himself. Max stood still and stared in envy and disgust, "Well that's just greedy!" I squeezed him on.
Our farrier was there, so I stopped to have a chat with him, and then went into the school. It's brilliant at this time of day, because the sun falls onto the trees at the back of the school, casting a shadow on a tree trunk that falls dead straight from A to C, so I can ride straight along it. Bee's daughter was turning their little palomino out. Max suddenly went charging up to have a look, and stopped stock-still at the perimeter fence, and began to gather himself. I yanked him away quick before he got any ideas of jumping the fence from a standstill! What's that all about?! Then Bee's daughter brought out a barrowload of haylage for the little mare, and Max was jealous again, "How come everyone's stuffing themselves with haylage except me?"
He actually worked beautifully. I'd put him in his Dutch gag, and he came on the bit and went really well. I can't think of a bit less likely to induce an outline, so I was quite impressed. They say that when a horse comes on the bit he has submitted and is working willingly. Rubbish! Max comes on the bit because he is annoyed, and knows he is stronger when he's like that. The fact that he looks lovely is neither here nor there. Don't be fooled. He is not co-operating with me, he is just powering through his shoulders and muttering to himself.
I had a chat with Bee afterwards. There is a new horse in the corner stable, a young and beautiful Dutch Warmblood. He is only five and has been there a week. A couple of days ago, he reared up and got his foot caught in the bars of the stable. They had to cut the bar with a hacksaw to release him. It's amazing he's not injured. Poor boy. I've always admired the American Barn stables, but when you hear stories like that, and think how Barnaby had me trapped the other week, I am now considerably less impressed. Bee said the horse's owner came down and turned him out at 4.30 one morning. (Why?!) The horse was obviously distressed as it was on its own in new surroundings, so it escaped. They came down at 6.30am and found him wandering round the yard. It's a good job, as there is no gate on the driveway, so if it found its way out it could have gone anywhere. Never a dull moment with horses, is there?
I came back and turned Max out. There is a brand new haylage bale in the entrance to the barn. Max stood looking at it and salivating. He looked at the one far away in the field. There was no dilemma as far as he was concerned. Why wade through the mud and wrestle for his pitch in the field when there was a freebie right here? He lunged at it, but I was ready for him, and towed him away. I love my horse.
I finished mucking out when I got back, ably assisted by the Ladies Who Lunch. They can go through a bed in 10 minutes, completely re-arranging it for you. They decimate the muck heap too, so it takes up much more space than it's supposed to.
I went into town in the afternoon with L who had various jobs to do, so I decided to change my library books. It was bliss to be on my own, but a bit cruel to give someone like me only half an hour. Obviously I dithered as usual. Time to throw in today's random comment: I speak German. Just for fun. And I read it too, and I am trying to read one book a month. The library is full of them. Sometimes I read adult books and sometimes I read childrens' books. 'Die Kleine Rote Henne' was wonderful, as was 'Jill und der Bohnenstengel'. This is because I've read all of my own books so many times I can recite them with my eyes shut, so I need something a bit different to stimulate me. I can't wait to start reading them.
Confession of the week: I have worn a thermal vest twice this week. I desperately need to wash my hair and haven't shaved my legs for several months. I must be an attractive sight. It's a good job John hasn't got x-ray vision. If the thermal vest didn't put him off, the hairy legs certainly would. Ewwww! When I left work the girls said I would end up like that mad woman on The Simpsons who comes out speaking gibberish with several screaming cats attached to her. How accurate they were! Or that character from The Laughter Show who comes out of the outside toilet in a scruffy coat tied round the waist with baler twine who says, "This week... I'll be mostly eating prunes." I need to see more people. Otherwise I shall go to the Christmas party on the 17th and the strain of looking nice will kill me. I can't remember what nailvarnish is, or perfume, BUT I also haven't weighed myself in a whole year, but all my clothes still fit me. The joys of country living.

Energy Boy

It was dark this morning as I came out to greet the horses. John had fed them before he left for work, which speeds things up quite considerably, especially if the horses have stayed in their turnouts overnight, which they are quite happy to do. It means I can walk out the door and turn the horses straight out and start mucking out much earlier.

It was cold, wet and windy, by far the worst weather of the week, so I decided to go for a ride. Why didn't I go on Monday (too busy) or Wednesday (too tired) when it was reasonable? There's no logic to it, is there? I wore my hi-viz gear again, as it still wasn't very light by nine o'clock, so I was lit up like a Christmas tree. The thing is, if I don't ride when it's raining, I'll never ride at all, and the hi-viz is totally waterproof, you can't even feel the rain on you.

We came out of the farm and turned right, and went down the steep hill. Max was a little surprised as I don't go this way very often, as it's a lot of main road, and it's usually very slippery, even though all our horses have road nails. Then we turned right again. I know there is a dog on a chain round the corner, so I was ready, but Max wasn't, and flung himself sideways when it started barking at him. I managed to stay on. I wouldn't say I was lying on his neck, but I was definitely up there somewhere, whispering sweet nothings into his ears.

The thing is, Max was full of energy. He and Barnaby are only on half a scoop of economy mix night and morning, with some Mollichop to stop Max being greedy, some cod liver oil and some vitamins. I'm blaming the cod liver oil. By now they'd normally be on a scoop night and morning, but there's certainly no need to increase their feed just yet. They seem to be absolutely thriving on very little, which is wonderful.

We turned right again, and trotted purposefully up the road. I offered a canter on the verge, but Max tested it and decided it was too soft. We turned right again. More uphill trotting, but not steep this time. If we'd turned right again, we'd have been home, but we only seemed to have been out for five minutes, so I decided to keep going. I was expecting resistance at the turning, but Max's mind was elsewhere, and it was another two minutes before he'd realised he'd missed his opportunity to go home. He did a huge snort and stumped off up the road.

I wouldn't say he was being strong, or about to bolt, but he was definitely in charge. "I think we'll trot here!" and "I think we'll walk here!" I felt like saying, "Hello! Rider on board! I'll be making the decisions today, thankyou." We continued past the livery yard, where a grey horse whinnied at him, but Max was on a mission. He reminded me of Zazu in The Lion King - 'The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave!'

I knew we were approaching a steep downhill track, but actually he was very well behaved, and didn't rush down it or slip. I was thinking how hard it is for a horse to bolt up a road, when he went into canter at the bottom and set off, as if to say, "No, it's easy really, watch!" Cheeky beggar! I made him trot all the way back up to the next junction, much further than he would normally go, but he obviously had the energy, and it's all up hill, which is why I took him that way. I really thought his fitness might have dropped off a bit as I haven't been riding him half as much as I normally would, but there isn't a hint of it so far. I think I'd better get him clipped this weekend after all.

I flew through the rest of the mucking out when I got back. It's amazing how a ride can lift your spirits. I have Radio 2 on as I work. It has become a good friend. Terry Wogan is finishing in January. He has been there, warbling away, all my life. I will miss him. Chris Evans has a lot to live up to.

And then, major joy, my shopping was delivered. Yes, I have finally worked out how to do my Tesco shopping online. It did take an hour to wade through it, but it was well worth the effort, not having to drive there, doing it in the comfort of my own home, etc. The driver was quite young and actually said, "There's a shop in Chesterfield you know." I said, "Yes, there is, but I don't drive." He looked astonished. Silly person. I derived great pleasure from putting my own shopping away instead of John doing it, and hid the receipt as it turns out I accidentally ordered 3 bags of frozen sweetcorn. I must have got carried away. I think I saw one sort and forgot to delete when I spotted the one I really wanted. Oh well, good job we like sweetcorn.

I have actually spent the afternoon cleaning my poor old tack. Actually it's the one job I've never got over the thrill of doing. Not like mucking out and filling haynets, which I'd gladly give up tomorrow. Right from the very beginning, having tack to clean has meant I own a horse and I've never got over the joy of being able to do it. My new discovery is 'oiling my tack' which John has always done, but I've only ever used saddle soap. I don't know what has happened to saddle soap over the past few years, though. It used to be a thick, creamy substance you could wipe on your leather and rely on to do a good job, but the bars I've bought recently seem to be 'watered down' and don't seem to have any effect at all. So I have taken to oiling it instead, and the leather absolutely drinks in the stuff. I've used loads of it, and you can see it's doing the leather good. I may even try it on my leather riding boots. Golly, they were a mistake. I specifically didn't want ones with zips up the back like John's got, as they are very masculine. I opted for a dressage boot. They were well over a hundred pounds, and are the most uncomfortable things I have ever worn. It's like wearing cardboard tubes on your legs. I've tried everything to soften them, but nothing has ever worked. I only wear them out hunting and for showing, not even hunter trials any more. I have to wear sweat bands round my ankles to ease the pain. I'll have to get them out of the lorry and have a go.

I've read another article today about a woman whose horse died a couple of months ago. There seem to have been several this year, and my heart goes out to all of them. We all moan about our horses, what they won't do, how annoying or spooky or dirty they are, but at least we have got them. It's just been a reminder that we have something so very precious and to make the most of it and be grateful for what we've got, because you never know what's around the corner. I am only glad that I can put my trust in God on this one, as He promised I would keep my horse and that's why we ended up moving here. I had no idea he was going to do something so extraordinary to enable Him to keep His promise, but that is why my trust is in Him. I was designed for two things: to worship God and to ride horses, and I intend to do both for as long as I am physically capable.