Silent Night, Holy Night

Mr O has finished work, so now the holidays can begin. And they began with... more snow! The horses are bored with it now, and have got into the routine of only going out in the mornings while we muck out. It was white with fog again today. The horses retreat to the very back of the field by 11am and refuse to come down when we call them, so we have to walk all the way up there through the snow, and drag them down. But they don't eat or drink up there, so I have laid the law down with Barnaby and explained that he and his men would be coming in, so I can be a good provider to them.
After the 'warming Max's rug' scenario the other night, I have increased the horses' feed since the snow started. I want to know they are going out and going to bed with something filling in their tummies. Honestly, it's worse than having kids. But I have noticed here, more than at Lorna's, that the horses expect Barnaby to provide for them, and he in turn, expects me to provide for him, and I intend to live up to his expectations and be a good leader. I have noticed him looking at me affectionately this last few days, so maybe it's working. I rugged him up last night and he looked back at himself as if to say, 'Oh, is that what I'm wearing?' and seemed quite pleased.
They have been coming in with ice tightly compacted into their hooves, and I have had to wrench it out with a hoofpick every day, otherwise they are sliding on the floor, and it can't be very comfortable for them, can it? Yesterday I picked up Zak's off-fore and noticed a deep cut in his hoof. I've realised it's a bad overreach. I bandaged it up yesterday, having put wound powder on it, so we'll have to keep an eye on it, as it's quite deep. I don't want it to get infected.
I have emptied Zak's uneaten feed onto the lid of the dustbin, which makes a very good bird table. There is something about his feed (it's for weight gain) that must be very appetizing, as Tessa will tip his bucket over and eat what's left in it, and I tip it on the ground for the chickens to finish up, so I thought I'd make use of it and give it to the robins. I was filling the water buckets from my kitchen window and opened the curtains while I stood there, to reveal Tigger on the dustbin, chewing thoroughly on the bird food. I love my cats, but I want these birds to stand a chance, so I shoo'ed him away.
Not long afterwards, the first robin appeared, then the second, then the third! What is going on? And then, to my surprise, a big, fat mamma blackbird appeared and scattered them. She looks 'heavy with child' to me, and is clearly eating for three. You don't mess with her. The poor robins don't get a look-in. So today I have scraped the snow off the garden table and put extra feed on there, as the blackbird can't guard both places at the same time, so the robins will still get something to eat. Today Mr O realised what I was up to, but it was too late. He'd commented on how fat the robins looked, and said he wasn't surprised if they were scoffing Allen and Page Weight Gain. It's a wonder they can take off, they're so podgy.
After we'd got the horses back in, we ventured out in the snow, across the first field to the dry stone wall, where I made Mr O climb over the electric fence and cut me down some holly. We got enough for us and for Missis. We waded back, having risked life and limb, and I arranged the holly in my galvanised bucket, which is now in the sitting room, looking exactly like a Christmas tree. I might jazz it up a bit if I get time, but it looks very good. Missis managed to get me some mistletoe, which is hanging in the sitting room window, so everything is exactly how I wanted it now.
We went out for some last minute food shopping at the supermarket, and then went up to Highfields Farm Shop. I love it in there. They sell venison and wild boar sausages and haggis. We bought a huge pork pie, and some sausages and bacon, so we can have a big breakfast after we've mucked out tomorrow. The snow on the way back was horrendous. The fog was getting worse, and had come down to meet the snow, so it was just a wall of white everywhere. I'm glad we stuck to the main roads. We won't be riding tomorrow, that's for sure.
I have a feeling I have enjoyed the preparations for Christmas this year more than I am going to enjoy the day itself, as we won't be seeing the grandchildren until Sunday. Mr O rang Abby and Ebony answered the phone. Ebony asked, "Is that Father Christmas?" Mr O said, "No, it's Grandad." Ebony said, "Oh, what do you want then?"

Don't Eat The Yellow Snow!

A busy day yesterday. Lindy is lame, so Missis is keeping him in. I am putting my horses out in the morning and bringing them in at lunch time, and Missis is putting Polo and Fudge out for a couple of hours in the afternoon, although it has to be said, mine didn't want to come in and hers didn't want to go out, but it means Lindy has company all day.

I couldn't resist taking some photos, as it was absolutely beautiful outside. The sun was really strong, and the white was stunning. I was 'Jane Orson, arctic explorer.' Because everything is very stark, the birds have become clearly visible. I have two robins in my garden, which is interesting as I thought they were terretorial. Maybe one will have to give in and leave. I really want to feed them, but the cats are so crafty, and I can't police the garden constantly. I'll have to see what I can do.

I spent the afternoon finishing off the traditional trifle I'd started the night before, and making the Black Forest trifle. I decided to make a mini one next to it, so that I could taste it and only inflict it on an unsuspecting public if it was good enough. It did occur to me that if the situation got desperate, I could go outside, scoop up a bowl of snow, sprinkle on some lemon juice and say, "Look, I've brought a sorbet!" That would wipe the smile off thier faces.

So I put the chocolate swiss roll in the bottom of my big dish, then sloshed some port in as we don't have any sherry. Then I spooned in the black cherry pie filling, which is one of my favourite things, and the whole reason pancakes were invented. On top of this goes the chocolate custard. I don't know what I was expecting, but it was like a runny chocolate mousse. I whipped up the cream and spread it on top, then grated a flake and sprinkled that on to finish. I got a spoon and tasted my miniature version, and it was absolutely gorgous. All the flavours work wonderfully well together, and the dash of port just gives it an edge. Lovely. Thanks Raine, for the brilliant idea, and so easy to make.

I also wrapped Mr O's presents, and Tessa's. I think Mr O was under the impression I was going to wrap his presents under his nose at the weekend. Silly. When I've finished this I'm going to go and make some nice gift tags to put on them, as I've found a website with some brilliant ideas.

Then I hopped in the shower and had an opportunity to use my favourite shower things. It's a fragrance called Summer Hill by Crabtree and Evelyn, which I absolutely adore. What joy to go out for the evening smelling of summer flowers rather than eau de silage for a change.

Then we had the tricky task of carrying two dishes of trifle through the snow to the car without sliding and dropping them. I wasn't worried about one of the dishes, but the other is from my china set and I would have been heartbroken if I'd dropped it. Have you ever tried transporting two trifles by car in the snow? It was a military operation, I can tell you. I had to get in, fasten my seatbelt and get Mr O to pass them to me so I could have one on my lap and one at my feet, so I could keep it motionless, and I begged Mr O to drive very , very slowly. Fortunately we didn't have too far to go.

The party was a great success. We had all different curries which were delicious, and all the wonderful puddings. There were 12 of us from the Bible Study. It was a good opportunity to chat and get to know people a bit more. We took Communion together at the end and had an opportunity to give thanks to the Lord. It was lovely. Who knows how much longer we will be able to do that? A teacher has got the sack this week for offering to pray for a pupil who was ill. Christians should be used to persecution, it's not a new thing, but it is new to us in the west, and I wonder how bad it will get before we start having to meet in secret like they do in Muslim countries. A sign of the times, I think.

Hats Off

I do not go outside now unless I am wearing thermal leggings. They go under jods or my jogging bottoms. The jogging bottoms are four pounds each from Quality Seconds, and are perfect for days when I only muck out and don't get to ride. I can wipe my hands on them and not care. I have to wear a thermal vest. Then a polo neck, then a sweatshirt, then a jacket. Soon there will be a waistcoat under the jacket. By February I will have a minimum of six layers on, and struggle to get on my horse (and struggle even more to get off).
But my trademark, as always, is my hat. For some reason I cannot find a sensible hat. So in desperation I am wearing a pink pom pom hat, with tassels. Why? I am forty-two. I look like a frozen Scandanavian pixie. In fact, what I really look like is the suicidal mother in About A Boy. No wonder she felt suicidal, walking around in a hat like that. They looked good in the market stall, where there is no mirror. This is not a coincidence. If you could see what you looked like before you bought it, the crafty stall holder would never make any money.
But now we have managed to go one step further than this. We have bought those fluffy trappers hats. I already have one of these, and the only reason I can get away with it is that it has 'Joules' on it in large writing on the back. Horsey people are so blinded by the word 'Joules' that they fail to notice I look a complete and total prat in it.
But this new trappers hat is khaki, and has fur in all the right places. In fact, you don't notice until you wear it, but they've added two extra flaps of fur, totally unnecessarily, one on each side of your head, that look like little ears, so you end up having a distinct resemblance to Deputy Dawg. Not a good look. I don't normally wear these hats anywhere except on the farm, but as it's so unspeakably cold, I wore one yesterday to town in desperation. This was fine until we stopped in the car at the traffic lights, and people crossing the road kept bumping into each other as they were staring through the windscreen at me as if they couldn't believe their eyes.
Mr O turned Barnaby out this morning, who reared up, turned round, and ran back out of the field. Mr O managed to catch him down by the white gate at the end of the drive, and put him back in the field, closing the gate properly this time, before undoing Barnaby's head collar. I led Max out and he stuck his nose in the snow and snorted it (it is white powder, after all!) The next thing I know, his knees had buckled and he went down for a roll, right there, on the yard! He was laying there, making snow angels, legs in the air. Then he stood up and shook himself and went off to the field as if nothing unusual had happened. The three horses went careering round in the snow, being very silly, rearing up at each other and cantering off.
It has snowed all day, but the electricians still turned up to finish off installing the lights in both barns. I am amazed. We made them cups of tea to keep them going. We mucked out and did all the chores, then got the horses back in by 11.30. They are coming in earlier and earlier each day, but there's no way I'm going to be able to keep Barnaby in all day. We had to pick their feet out as they were filled with rock solid ice. The electricians had to switch power off in our house while they made adjustments to the board outside, so we sat here freezing to death.
We have been to see Avatar. It is extremely good. We didn't see the 3D version, but even the normal one was excellent. It is obviously a take on the Amazon Rainforest, and the ore they go to mine is called 'unobtanium' which I thought was hysterical, but apart from that it was very enjoyable, and sucked you into the story, as the script is a bit weak at the beginning. It was very 'circle of life' but I guess that's all part of that culture. The graphics are stunning. I would definitely watch it again. A guy called Sam Worthington is the star, and I've got to be honest, I've never heard of him. He looked like a slightly chubby Ben Afleck. It turns out he's in Terminator Salvation, which we'll be watching over Christmas, and he's Australian. Interesting.
So this afternoon has been about finishing my second cross stitch, which I am very pleased with. It says it is an Anniversary Pig, so you could put whatever number you wanted on it, but I have decided to use it on a card for Caelan's first birthday, so I have put a 'one' on it.



We have been to drop off the family's Christmas cards. Lisa has given me a lap light, which is brilliant, it made it much easier to see the holes in the fabric. She says I am not to do it too late at night as it's very bad for your eyes. She's not kidding. She's also lent me two books on cross stitch that are absolutely brilliant. I am dying to go back to the craft shop and buy loads of stuff now. There are so many things I could be doing.
I'd better go now to make the jelly for the trifle for the party tomorrow night. I spoke to Lorayne and she said all her friends are making Black Forest Trifle. You just put chocolate swiss roll in a dish, pour on cherry pie filling, top with chocolate custard and put cream on top, so I am going to make that as well.
And what is so sad, is that I have brought Max's stable rug in to warm in front of the fire so that's it's warm and dry before I put it on him at night. It's like warming your child's towel on the fire while he's in the bath. Too much?

Let It Snow!

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.

Crafty

At last, Missis is back and yesterday was the last time I have to muck out all six stables until January 4th next year. Yippeeee! Not a moment too soon.
We have had two days of dreadful, miserable weather, thick fog yesterday so it was dark all day, and icy rain all day today. We got the horses in at 2pm as they'd obviously had enough.
I put piles of haylage round the field again today. It seems to be working really well, as it's much more natural for them to walk about and eat than just stand there scoffing. The haylage is stored in the barn where the new stables are being built. It is directly up against the field, and as you slide the brown wooden door open, you can step straight into the field itself, and the plan is eventually to turn the horses out through this door. So I've been opening said door, walking along the outside of the barn with great big piles of haylage in my arms and dropping it at strategic places along the wall.
The first time I opened it, unbeknown to me, Max was standing on the other side, and it frightened the life out of him. He must have leapt six foot backwards, poor boy! I genteely placed a pile of haylage at his feet.
The next time I opened the door, Barnaby was standing there, large as life, poking his head in the door, asking, "Did you just frighten my friend Max?" I couldn't aplogise enough (you don't want to get on the wrong side of Barnaby) and held out the haylage, as a peace offering, which he took. I dropped it, closed the door quickly and beat a hasty retreat.
I am at the stage where my hands have gone very dry, as they are in water all the time, because of washing horse water and feed buckets. I have to be disciplined about putting hand cream on. Likewise my poor feet are itchy and sore, so I have to wash them, dry them and powder them every day, and also have some time going barefoot, to give the skin a chance to breath, poor things. I am in socks and wellies all the time and it's too much for my poor little piggies.
Mr O got up at 4am and left in a van to go to Glasgow. Snow is forecast for tomorrow, so instead of staying overnight, he is driving back again this evening, and won't be back until 11pm.
This has given me the opportunity of making his Christmas card while he's out. And it's a good job as it took me two hours. This is largely because I couldn't decide between two different design schemes. I spent ages cuting out bits of paper, and laying paper on paper, only to cast it aside and start again with something else. I have learned a lot about this card making malarkey.

1. Start with the right sized card. I know that might sound obvious, but the card I've bought is too big really for what I thought I wanted to do, though it has worked out okay in the end. Ditto paper. You need big enough paper sometimes to cover the whole card. Easier said than done. I will know for next time.
2. Don't cut anything out until the very last minute. Plan and plan and plan, and re-arrange everything on the paper until you are completely satisfied, then start cutting and sticking.
3. I have yet to find a way of doing lettering that I am happy with. Stamps are ok, as long as you are very careful with the ink, but the transfer lettering I have bought so far is useless. I shall think very carefully before I buy any more.
4. It doesn't matter if you have seen a design in a magazine or on a website, if your local craft shop doesn't have those things, you will not be able to make that card. You might loosely follow the design, but your card will not look like the card shown.
5. Always have clean hands before you start, and work in a big, well lit space. I am making these cards at my desk, but I think the kitchen table will be better for the next project.


Anyway, this is what I've done for Mr O, and I hope he likes it, as it was a labour of love! A bit amateur for now, but I've got to start somewhere. I am sure he will like it, just because I've made it, anyway. It is a bit shadowy because I've scanned it in rather than taking a photo of it, but I think it's clear enough to see what I've made. Actually it looks quite cute now I'm looking at it again.

Jingle Bells

I couldn't blog yesterday. By 8pm I could hardly even move.
I think because I moved all the straw bales on Saturday, I didn't really have a chance to recover from the four days mucking out all the stables last week. Yesterday it seemed to take forever, but this is because:
1: I told Mr O not to bother feeding early, so the horses were very late going out, by the time I'd given them breakfast, waited for them to eat it, changed all their rugs, and put hay out in the field.
2: I rode Max. More of that later.
I put seven piles of hay out for the horses, and turned Barnaby out first. He stood there, assessing the situation. He takes his duties as herd leader very seriously, and knew he'd have to have the situation sussed before any of the other horses appeared. He judiciously picked his pile of hay and started munching. I could see him thinking, "We'll see how this pans out."
At about 9am it stopped raining, and I decided to take the plunge and ride. I gave Max a thorough grooming. I don't groom his mane very often and I never brush his tail unless I've washed it and put conditioner on it. Anyway, he'd obviously rubbed his mane, as it was very tatty, and as I gently stroked it with the brush, handfuls of hair came out! Oh my darling boy! I'm sure it'll grow back, and that if he didn't have a rug on with a neck, it would have fallen out naturally, but I can see how ponies in the wild end up looking a mess, with no one to groom them.
I came out of the gate, and pulled it closed. Missis has put a very nice Christmas wreath on it. Max thought it looked very nice indeed, and decided to have a little snack off it! I managed to pull him away in the nick of time. I'm sure whatever's on it will be either plastic or poisonous, so it's just as well, greedy hoof! I just decided to go down to the bottom of Press Lane, turn round and trot all the way back up again. This is a brilliant place for trotting to increase the horses' fitness, as it's not steep, but goes gently uphill for at least a mile and a half. Max was puffing by the time we got back to the top. I waved at Lucy Goosy, who waved back. Her dog, Ben, forgot to bark at us, which made a nice change. He sits on the low wall that surrounds the front of their house, and I always feel I should toss him a biscuit as we go past.
I got back and turned Max out. Zak had been standing near the gateway, waiting to greet him and explain things. Their conversation went something like this:
Zak: (ticking Max's name off on a clipboard): So, you're back, are you?
Max: What's going on?
Zak: Well, Sir Barnaby has got that great big pile of haylage over there, obviously, and we're all sharing these little piles over here.

So then it was back to the mucking out, which seemed to go on forever. I'd only done three stables by lunch time, whereas normally I've done five. I went back out after lunch to finish off, and by the time I'd done everything it was time to get the horses back in.
I cooked dinner in the evening, and then spent an hour ironing, as Mr O said he'd nothing to wear to work. When I asked him to come and pick what he needed so I made sure I ironed it, he picked out one pair of trousers. Very strange. He didn't even make a cup of tea to sustain me in my hour of need.
After that I didn't feel very well at all. Every part of me seemed to ache. I felt like a Russian shotputter. Last year, when I first started this, I felt as if I had extra bones inserted across my shoulder blades, like a rack of ribs. That's the only way I can describe it. This year it's just my right shoulder that hurts, but it feels enormous too, as if it's the size of The Incredible Hulk's shoulder. I bet I could beat any woman at arm wrestling.
And then, the saddest thing, just to round off my day nicely. I was so tired I have messed up and ruined my new cross stitch. I started to go wrong, and decided to do the decent thing and unpick it, then the threads got messed up and broke, and now I don't know what to do with it. I'm so sad about it. I'll have to try again, but I was so tired I could hardly see straight. Mr O kept saying, "You've fallen off Max, haven't you?" so I must have looked quite bad. Then not to be outdone, my stomach decided to start hurting as well, so I gave up, took some painkillers and went to bed. Not the best of days.

Away in a Manger

Mr O went down to dish out breakfast to the horses, "Morning Barnaby,"
"Morning, Dad!"
It turned out it wasn't foggy, windy, raining, icy or snowing, so I got up quickly and went out to groom Max. He was less than thrilled with the prospect, but I feel as if it's ages since I last rode. Missis rode her horse yesterday and when she came back he was sweating like a trooper and she said he didn't seem very fit. I was expecting something similar from Max, but as I was riding I could feel a little volcano inside him, waiting to erupt. The trouble with living on a hill is that everywhere you ride away from home is downhill, and trying to keep a lively horse under control for that first stretch is hard work. I guess Max was fairly relaxed as he hasn't been out with another horse for weeks, and prefers company.
We went all the way down Press Lane, and trotted along very nicely. I had asked Mr O to keep control of Barnaby, which he did so well that Max started to overtake him. I said, "Be warned, as we turn the corner and come up the hill, Max will have a little canter. It's nothing to worry about, and I'll have him under control after a few strides." Sure enough, we turned right and Max shot off up the hill. The trouble is, he loves hard ground and has always done this to me. I've got used to it over the years, but the first time he did it, it really put the wind up me. I got him back, and they trotted boldy up the steep hill. We were stopped suddenly by a woman in her gateway who said, "I heard horses, so I came out to have a look. I'm socialising him." and pointed to a tiny, black labrador puppy zipped into the front of her jacket. Under normal circumstances I would have been off Max, cradling puppy and inviting myself in for a coffee, but the boys were on a roll, and we couldn't really stop. I must stroll past some time and introduce myself, as I know they're new in the neighbourhood.
We continued on up the hill at a decent trot. I thought I'd be nice and give Max a bit of head where it's steep. He just said, "Thankyou very much!" and went straight back into canter. I hauled him back in. So much for being generous. We then turned left to go up Tinkley Lane. There is a small but significant bridleway at the end of this narrow road. Barnaby went into flat out gallop up it, and Max seemed to lift up in the air, throw himself forward, and was off like a rocket. It was fantastic. I can't wait to go to Osberton on Friday.
Max hasn't lost any of his fitness, energy or stamina, and I am frankly surprised. I'll just have to stick to my plan, even if it means I ride on days when I've got six stables to do, as he needs the work and loves to be out and about.
When we got back I jumped in the shower, got changed and we set off for church. I am so grateful for this amazing place. We only started going there in May, and we absolutely loved it the minute we walked in the door. Today was the family Christmas service. The little ones did a nativity. It was so sweet. Considering none of the children in it are either my own children or grandchildren, I didn't expect to be affected by it, but it brought a tear to my eye and a lump to my throat. It brings it all down to the simplest level, doesn't it? And yet it was so powerful, too. So I have at least sung Silent Night and O Come All Ye Faithful so far this year, but there is a carol service next Sunday evening, so we'll try to go.
When we got back, Mr O went out on Zak, while I mucked Max out. He came back totally sweated up, but had done a long ride. His tendon seems to be holding up extremely well, which is fantastic. We have only scratched the surface with this amazing horse, as he had a tendon injury six weeks after we got him, and was on box rest for a year. I am dying to see what he can really do. He is such a beautiful boy. We are blessed to have him. Mr O put him in Barnaby's stable when he got back, and this is what happened next:
He is reaching across from Barnaby's stable to eat Max's haylage, the greedy beggar! We are going to have fun when they move into the new stables, because Zak, Barnaby and Max are going to be in a row, with no bars in between, so they will still be able to reach over like this. I hope not too much of this sort of thing goes on, because if Zak tries to eat Barnaby's haylage, there will be trouble. But Zak will be very fawning and willing to mutually groom Barnaby for as long as he likes, which Barnaby will love. I can't wait to see how it pans out.