A Christmas Heroine

As with many parts of the country the weather here in Devon has been a bit wild in the last day or so. The winds have blown fit to cheer King Lear up and it culminated this morning when a tree blew down in the horses' field.

This was the moment for which Rooster had been training all these years. He leaped into action and cantered three times around the field, followed by the others, before collecting himself and heading to the Major Incident plan. A 534 page document that he had been preparing for just such an eventuality , pausing only to don his "I'm in charge" surcoat, he had all the rest of the crew lined up and started taking command of the scene. 

 "Do I look authoritative enough in this ?"

His first instruction was for Kavi to notify the relevant authorities, he was less impressed when he heard that the chestnut nomulator had contacted the Woodland Trust.  He then instructed Rocky to take the roll call and was horrified to find out that only three of the horses had been accounted for, after a recount Rocky ensured him that he had personally seen three horses. This was worse than Rooster had thought. He turned to page 67 of the plan entitled "What to do if you lose someone". Sure enough paragraph 4 subsection iii b had the drill.

He sent Carly off to the emergency phone to contact the only help that was available for such eventualities 

                                            Ta-Da, It's Wabb the Search & Rescue Cat

After a lengthy briefing the feline heroine was deployed to search under the fallen tree, but to no avail, there was no-one, equine or otherwise, trapped. It was time for an emergency meeting and the OIC called Rocky over to confer on actions to be taken. Firstly however , he needed to find out who was missing. After a thorough debriefing it was agreed that Rocky had seen Carly, Kavi and Rooster, that was three? right? At this juncture Wabb sighed, shook her head and said "You stupid grey pillock, you forgot to count yourself".

Stand down everyone.

Being interviewed in his stable later Rooster opined that he thought the whole excersise had been a great success  and showed that the 24/7 cover he provided every day was a worthwhile investment.

No cats or horses were harmed in the making of this blog.

 Happy Christmas everyone from all on Lowerdown and at S.C.

Of stallions and brandy

The weather has been remarkably clement for the time of year, or it could just be Devon, so Kavi has been getting plenty of time out recently. H has made sure that we have covered plenty of miles so he  has been getting fitter and fitter. On Tuesday we ventured across the moor, he was very excited by this as he clearly thinks that there is plenty of room to show his quicker paces. We have a kick, a buck and a fart every time he sees a patch of green in front of him (well he does at any rate). I merely grit my teeth and wrap my legs around him.

                                  "Come on Rocky, we'll soon be there and then we can go for it"

After a typically fun hack to Smallacombe Rocks we were making our way home when in the distance we could hear the hunting horn and hound calling from the local Fox-bothering pack. Deciding that discretion was the better part, Rocky and the ginger lad nipped into the Nature Reserve, suspecting, correctly, that the hunt would not be welcome there. The hounds were not there but, however, there was a small herd of Dartmoor ponies hanging around on the path home. The stallion was, quite rightly, very defensive of his herd and was less than keen to see intruders on his manor.

 

                                                           A pony of the Dartmoor variety

He strutted after us to ensure that we were seen off and were going to present no threat to his posse, Rocky, being the friendly creature that he is wanted to be friends and possibly join his gang. Kavi on the other hand, was less than impressed at being pushed about when he was returning to his stuffed haynet and after a minute  turned on his vertical challenged pursuer and said to him  in no uncertain terms "Look, Pal, you may be the stallion but I'm three times your size. Now jog on before I pulverise you". This had the desired effect and we were able to return in our own time, which is pretty nippy when Kavi is on his way home.

You will be all aware that the festive season is approaching quickly and H and I repaired to the local hostelry to see what delights awaited us in the next couple of weeks. The talk was of the Pickled Onion Selection contest. (No I've no idea either, but it appears to be the big event). The pub doesn't appear to make a Christmas punch either, this will come as bad news to Carly who is particularly keen on visiting his fans on Christmas day and necking gallons of the stuff. Here he is on the verandah of the Rose and Crown a few years ago being fed his favourite tipple by his friend Kate  whilst  modelling his festive antlers.

Dual Identity

Wabb and I were pushing a wheelbarrow around the field a couple of days ago, well one of us was, she was holding forth on the Trendlebeere leyline that she believes runs through the field while I was doing the grafting. Apparently in ancient times it was the thoroughfare used by ancient Devonian kitties who, on Midsummer's day processed down the hill to Manatton to welcome the dawn and rejoice in the new year and a bumper crop of small furry things to eat.

 I have to admit this was all news to me and although sceptical, was starting to wander how I might make money from this festival. Wabbstock perhaps . Pussy Riot headlining when they come out  their Russian jail, supported by Cat herine Jenkins and "Tom" Jones

 I then espied the lady who owns the next door field also doing a spot of pooh picking. We exchanged greetings and were passing smalltalk when she said "Oh Hello Whiskers" I thought that was a little rude as , although I hadn't shaved I don't look like Santa. I then realised that she was not looking at me but at an embarrassed feline. I have never seen a cat blush before as Wabb turned on her paws and trotted off.

"No idea who you are talking about"

 

 

It turns out that she doesn't rough it in the stable as we had surmised but spends plenty of time in next door's boiler house living off the choicest titbits and living under the alias of Whiskers. I'm going to have to have a word with that young lady.

 

 

Yesterday Kavi, Rocky and I accompanied H on a long hack up to the huge rock formation known as Haytor, which we thought was just up the road.

 

                                                        Yes, that's how far away it is.

 

Not the way horses go it isn't and we went up and down bridleways, up the Ladies Mile through 4 bogs and an ancient tramway, (Devon really needs to get out of the fifteenth century) until we were in the foothills. Amidst much sighing Kavi plodded on alternately slipping and tripping. I was trying to steer him and convince them that we were on our way home. "Look" he said "I'm a thoroughbred racehorse not a flippin' Dartmoor pony"

 

This was about how sad he looked



Is your goose getting fat ?

The C word, yes it is less than a month until the happy day. I even bought a C Robin decoration today too. I have also been receiving the Christmas lists from the inhabitants of Lowerdown. Rooster's requests are quite simple; his own traffic cone .
http://www.puresafety.co.uk/roadhog-traffic-cones.html
A Hi-viz vest would  be nice too and help to complete the ensemble.

Carly , when asked, informed me that he wished his rota of servants to be trebled at least, two are not nearly enough to keep up with his, meagre, demands. There have been times in the middle of the night , he informed me,when he has needed his rug adjusting but there was no one on call to do it and he was forced to wait until the morning . As for whether he wishes to be in the stable or out in the field, well he is allowed to change his mind as often as he likes, can't he ?

                                           I'm not sure if I have enough wrapping paper for all of these.

Rocky is very excited about the new X-box with added hoof controls, he has heard about the new must-have game Grand Theft Pinto and would prefer to play that then roister-doister with the boring field mates.

Kavi is not a great fan of Christmas, although he did make the effort a couple of years ago.

                                                       "Ho Ho flaming Ho"

When pushed he plumped for a never empty haynet, so that his nomming activities would suffer no interruption. I told him that he still had one present choice left and asked what would he like. "Another of those nets" was his answer. Sigh.

Wabb asked for world peace, some Lentil kit-e-kat and the latest Hawkwind album "Cat on the Edge of Time". CF was still in bed and will doubtless let me know his choice when he surfaces

I had a surprise request from Ari, apparently as former Housemate would not countenance it at his home,  and I  too fear that 5 minutes alone with George Osbourne would not be a good idea.(she is happy that George does not know of her existence).

"Alright, just three minutes then "

 

 

A couple of years ago I mentioned local "characters" who frequent country pubs, well now that we live closer to the ocean we have visited a couple of hostelries in seaside resorts. Here the yokel's seafaring cousin the salty old sea dog lurks. He generally has a pig-tail which emerges apologetically from his bald head, a fisherman's smock liberally coated with fish scales and his last half dozen meals and a laugh that is 20% chuckle and 80 % phlegm. He has a flat in Hampstead, an agent called Wodney and is quite as dull as the Mummerzet version

 



No, not that sort of Sea Dog,

 

Green Eyed God

Social media is the medium of today, some of you will have accessed these wonderful words via facebook and some will have stumbled upon this from twitter @kavismate . It is always nice to meet people who are followers of the antics here in Devon (and Shropshire beforehand). Although it can be a little worrying that there are some who know more about the lads than the author.

I have tweeted a few pictures and some of my twittermates have taken an interest in Kavi. One, a talented young lady who is studying art, asked if she could paint a portrait of him. In the interests of copyright I asked Kavi if he minded. "Can you eat a portrait ?" was his only question. On receiving an answer in the negative he sighed and said "Whatever". He duly stopped eating for about 2.3 secs while his photo was taken and sent over the ether for her to work off.

                                "Come on, hurry up, there is a half eaten haynet that needs seeing to"

The proof of the masterpiece was duly sent back recently and very good it was too. I was telling Kavi of his fame when Carly overheard the conversation. He was mortified. "Why does anyone want a picture of that sad-faced old munter ? " He screeched. "I am the lovely one, every one says so, check the profile, check the breeding. It screams Showing Horse. It should have been me me me" Awkward

Rocky also appears to be thriving on the Devonian fodder and appears to have grown  in the last 6 weeks and is now probably taller than Kavi, who is 15.3hh. We have tried to stand them upsides so that we can compare but Kavi gets very irritated when Rocky stands near him as he is always being mithered and nibbled and attempts to exact revenge by biting a chunk out of him

                                                          "I'm a big lad me"

Rocky No mates

Rocky is a friendly chap, always full of bounce and bobbance and always ready to have a roister-doister. Unfortunately for him his mates are not really the playful types.

"C'mon Carly, lets play with this, it'll be fun"

 

 

Carly, like an ageing Uncle, will indulge him for ten minutes or so but will get bored and wander off to do something in which he is the centre of attention. Rooster might patrtake in a few low jinks providing the play area is safe and the appropriate safety gear is worn which rather takes the fun out of it. Kavi, of course, doesn't stop eating for long enough to waste his breath in saying "**&%! off" .

 

Imagine, however, Rocky's joy when some horses moved into the field next door. He was convinced that there would be lots of new chums who would be eager to become his playmates. Sadly for the Grey Gallumpher the neighbours, after an initial look,  only seemed interested in eating all the grass in their new field. He  now spends a lot of time staring wistfully over the fence. Wabb went over to see him and offer some alternate amusement. Sadly "Consider the beech tree man, become as one with it and allow your chakras to merge" was not the fun hour Rocky had in mind.

 

Downton went out with a whimper yesterday. Satisfied that another series had been landed most of the characters were able to coast through yet another "village event" which always happens in the  series finale. All 56 of Lady Mary's suitors turned up but to no avail, she remained Lady Mary  so they all left disappointed. Come on guys, she's dull but after all she is very rich.. Lady Edith was  letting it be put out that she was off to Europe to have a child out of wedlock ,this after her gentleman friend had "disappeared in Germany". (He's dumped you love) . We all suspect that you are going to see if you can get that charisma by-pass reversed.

                                                      "Oooh my poor Chalfonts"

 

 Mr Bate's haemorrhoids appear to still be giving him some gyp judging by the expression on his face , his teeth couldn't be more gritted if he was a Motorway in a frost. We can't wait for the Christmas special .

 

 







The Loneliness of the long distance scooper wielder

 

 

Say Hello to Wabb, she arrived at Lowerdown a few weeks ago as a guest of CF's. Although she was a little shy at first now that she has her paws under the table she has blossomed into a chum.

One of the boring but necessary jobs that horse owners have to do is pooh-picking, this is where you troll around the field with a wheelbarrow and a scooper moving the equine deposits, and having four horses with healthy digestive systems tends to leave plenty of work to do. Now as I am at the bottom of the pecking order it falls to me to do the hard yards. It is a bit boring going up and down the field but Wabb has decided to do the rounds with me. It's a big improvement to quarter the fields with my feline friend discussing life in general. She is quite the zen philosopher and advocates plenty of motionless sitting and contemplating life. In turn I point out the wildlife to her, we have seen; wrens, robins, pied wagtails, stonechats (well we've heard them) and long tailed tits. Unlike certain moggys of yore she doesn't find the need to slaughter them as it goes against her Buddhist faith. I was looking forward to going out with her today to discuss some knotty point of lore but she said "You can sod off it's p**ing down"

I have also discovered that CF is a teenager, this becomes obvious at weekends when he turns up for his breakfast at about 10.30 obviously having had a lie in after a night out with the lads. Having wolfed down his portion of Kanga-chunks he then finds himself a comfortable hay bale, preferably in the sun, and settles down for a snooze.

Some good news on PPP (Perpetually Poorly Poppy) the Stable Cottage cert for Cheltenham 2015 as she has deigned to return to training with the Worried Looking Trainer. He assures us that if she gets some good ground after the turn of the year she will repay our patience. He also pointed out that the horse that just beat her on her debut was runner up in a very good hurdle race yesterday. (Chris pea Green his name as you ask )

                                                   PPP and WLT dreaming of races to be won

Most weeks I like to poke a little fun at Downton but even I have had to give up as it is now beyond parody.

That skill, it never leaves you

Who would have thought that the Devon air could be so rejuvenating ? Kavi was never keen to go out usually having to be dragged from the stable and encouraged to go for even the gentlest of  hacks. However now that he is Devonian Horse he could not be keener. He strides down the road with his ears pricked and a spring in his step. we went up onto the moor this week and he couldn't have loved it more, he was hopping from hoof to hoof and was all for disappearing at a rate of knots towards Somerset.

With it being a touch windy today all the horses were a bit flighty and when let out into the field they all went charging around tails in the air bucking and kicking. Normally Kavi has nothing to do with this sort of silly Arab behaviour and soon gets his head down to do some serious nomming. Worryingly they hooned down the field towards the bottom paddock before slamming the brakes on, at least Rocky (I didn't know that you could jump fences) and Rooster (I have had a good look at this jumping malarkey and it looks dangerous to me, where is the warning tape and the cone ?) did. Kavi, however, sailed over the post and rail fence into the virgin paddock in fine style.

                                     "I don't need a little Irishman on my back to make me jump"

On landing he looked rather surprised to be alone, clearly his "Follow me lads" rallying call had fallen on deaf ears. This was a bit worrying for him and he trotted up and down the fence while the others strolled off, perfectly calm now. He was starting to get a bit anxious as I headed towards him with a headcollar to repatriate him with his mates. Then he saw what was beneath his hooves, about half an acre of fresh grass, and he perked up no end. I thought that I was going to have to deploy a crane to get his head up so that we could return to the correct side of the fence.

More excitement on Downton last week as Tom threatened to take his Irish Elm disease to America, shock, gasp, yawn. Maybe he was hoping to be more poplar there, he could get a plane over the ocean I suppose.

                                                         Ready for a coat of varnish

I would imagine that if he spruce-ed himself up he could branch out into business by taking a leaf out of Lady Mary's book, although she might twig what was happening. We'd pine for him though.

I'm on all week, try the veal.

Doctor Carlystone I presume

The move down south has certainly had a rejuvenating effect on some of the horses; Kavi seems to like the air and strides out purposefully in front of most hacks with his ears pricked as opposed to dragging his hooves around Shropshire. Carly, who has a very low boredom threshold, is also enjoying this new chance to explore. he is a very inquisitive soul. This urge to boldly go etc means that he is very forward going when hacking out, now normally this is a good thing, but not if you have differing ideas about which way to go.

                                        "What's that over there ? Can we go and have a look ?"

He believes that he should be given free rein (see what I did there ?) to go where he wishes. There are two reasons for this; firstly because he is so handsome, lovely and friendly, everyone must be overjoyed to meet him and become his chum, and secondly that he is still searching for the fabled Polo making factory where he can be gifted his body weight in minty treats.

The road leading to and from his domain is clearly the home of Devon's affluent and most of the architect designed des-reses have long driveways. He feels he should be able to stride up them to the house, where he would introduce himself by tucking into the buffet left for him, hanging baskets to you and I, have a good poke around the lawn and flower beds before leaving a fragrant "gift" for the lucky householders next to the garage.

Not so long ago whilst still in North Wales he was strolling down a quiet track just off a road minding someone else's business when he spied a car which appeared to be rocking from side to side without the engine running. Despite H's efforts to restrain him he strode up to the vehicle to investigate, unfortunately the windows were steamed up so he never discovered what was happening. Curious that.

Clearly stung by the accusation that it is pointless Sunday night froth the writers of Downton have got out their book of political correctness and are doggedly making their way through it. First off Racism got it's marching orders, Lady Rose, the ward of the family, you know,  the blonde one who is looking for love but is crushed by fusty old social mores (or the posh slapper) was embarrassed by her chinless wonder of a boyfriend at a "nayt" club before being rescued from social catastrophe by a , gasp, black man. Clearly this was not to be tolerated and Tom the wooden Irishman was sent to rescue her from a fate worse than being seen with one of "those" people. I doubt if we've heard the last of this. Tom might branch out into protecting her, if he twigs what is happening, unless he is barking up the wrong tree...Ok ok I'll stop.

 Lady Mary was the victim of sexism next as Lord Grantham patted her on the head over the running of the estate. She has enough on her plate apparently, though how she stays so slim... oh I see. Anyway she reacted with outrage as you can see

                                                 "I've never been more furious"
                                                               or
                                                        "I've just won the lottery"
                                                              or
                                                  "Did I leave the cooker on ? "

Wooden it be nice

You would think, wouldn't you, that a two acre field of virgin grass would be enough to entertain and cater for four grown horses ? Having acted as a type of equine Agent Orange on one half the field it was decided that Nom-happy quartet could go to the new section of the field to graze yesterday.

Now this section of the land abuts to the architect designed des res  of the Lady Who Owns the House in the Field, she possesses  a couple of jolly labs who love to run around barking, especially when they saw our lads for the first time The LWHOHIF came out to investigate the commotion  and was greeted by the sight of her hounds going ballistic whilst Rooster and Kavi were outstaring them and biting large chunks out of her fence. Noooooo

                                          Carly demonstrates, fence chewing techniques.

Many apologies were proffered by us and promises that no repetition would occur  were given to her. She was, however, forced to call in the fencers to make some repairs. On our return later, having gone home for a reviving cup of tea ( a beer, it was a beer) the guys were unpacking their tools and  preparing to put things right but there was a hold up as the men were being badly hampered.  Rocky was the main culprit here, he had taken a particular liking to the boss's mobile phone and while he was trying to order some new fenceposts he had the Grey gallumpher tugging at his sleeve wanting to have a turn to ring his mates, and update his facebook profile probably.

It is, quite rightly, said that virtue is it's own reward and when CF the cat adopted us we were happy to look after him and he has become a welcome member of the Lowerdown clan. But as they also say, there is always one who has to spoil things by overstepping the mark. CF has become one of those types,we arrived at the stables last night to see that he has brought his mate for food and biscuits. he appeared to think that as he had offered us a dismembered rat the day before he could bring his mates along for board and lodging

                                                   "How do, where's the biccies ?"

Downton decided to go all dark and serious last week but not before our favourite medic the Deadly Doctor had performed another miracle cure.

                                              "Dr Finlay eat ye're hearrrt oot"

Mrs Patmore, the comedy cook suffered a heart attack whilst preparing a soufflé, no one seemed very bothered but amazingly quickly he was summoned and was soon on the case dispensing homespun philosophy .His cash busting cardiac cure was a bit of a sit down and a listen to a Puccini aria, she was soon restored to full health and will hopefully be bustling about her root veg for many a year.

A Star in a reasonably priced Barrow

Well it was bound to happen eventually, after many years sterling service the Poohtruck, or to give it another name, the Orange Wheelbarrow sighed and collapsed halfway up the field, never to be trundled again.. This, however gave me a great opportunity to buy a new, updated model .I tripped happily off down to Mole Valley ( a shop not a place) to peruse the latest models having done my customary amount of research online prior to purchase (none)

Their averagely appointed showroom ( a yard in the rain) showed off their extensive range. First up was the TWB-250 a right hefty article which was rebuffed on it's weight to pooh ratio (and it's £209 price tag - for that price I would want someone to push it for me). Next up was the Garden Twin Galvanised, which had sleek silver lines but sadly, the handling on tight bends left something to be desired. The Bordeaux Integral boasted a "High Quality European Style Pan " -honestly, but was also passed over owing to it being a bit of a hairdresser's barrow. Eventually I test pushed the Harmmerlin Polypropylene model on the skid pan and after kicking the wheel a couple of times chose to buy one in British Racing Green

.                                                 Beautiful chassis, only one careful owner


Replacing the Killer Kitties was always going to be difficult but I was surprised by how quickly we have been adopted by CF the cat. He has quickly taken up residence on the hay and has got us nicely into the routine of feeding him. He waits at the top of the ramp by the stables and even taps his feline Rolex if he thinks we are late. His name ? I asked one of the neighbours about that and she replied "Oh that Cookin Fat" or at least I think that was what she said.

                                      "Don't call me Felix or Mr Whiskers, I'm tough, right ?"


Downton was a delight again on Sunday. It is truly  where the unfeasable is considered commonplace. This week the sad old mate of Carson the butler was visited by the hopeless Scottish doctor who opined that only finding employment would cure him of his many illnesses. And ,amazingly, in a denouement to gladden Jeremy Hunt's heart ,if he has one, he was next seen at the Railway Station on his way to a new job, without a trace of a cough or limp. The Jock Doc was behind him on the platform  seeing  him off whilst performing a highland fling of honour shouting " I finally got a diagnosis right yipeeee"

A serious accident nearly occurred during a particularly tender scene between Lord Grantham's other daughter, the one whose name no one can remember

                                                      Emily ? Agnes ? Kylie ?

and her elegantly coiffured swain . Having modestly flirted over the coffee cups and despite their relationship having DOOMED written all over it , she coyly placed a chaste hand on his  trembling knee trilling "I know it's hard darling..." I missed the rest of the sentence as H woofed half a pint of Sauvignon Blanc across the room.

Ooh Arr and other lazy generalisations

"Where the heck are we ?" Said Kavi on Friday  to Rocky his new next door neighbour. "No idea but look at the amount of grass on that field".

Well we've done the deed and re-located to Devon, all the horses travelled well and seem to be settling in on Lowerdown well. Sadly though we had to say Goodbye to Furrgall and Sharkey.

                                                Forever Salopians

Don't worry, the scary stable lass and the Up and Coming Trainer, who are taking on BC, are happy to be protected from rustic dangers by our furry chums.

We do not appear to be cat free though as no sooner had we decamped in Lowerdown than we were adopted by another moggy. More of him next time.

Although H and I are no Spring Chickens we appear to have dropped the average age of our nearest Devon town by about 25 years. On first impression it makes Ludlow seem like South Central LA.

More importantly the new series of Downton started last Sunday. Needless to say we ensconced by the TV nice and early. What a great start and what a bravura performance by Lady Mary as she coped with all the emotions required of her demanding characterisation.

                                                   She was Happy

                                                 She was sad

                                                  Her dog died

                                              She was in the throes of erotic passion

Surely a BAFTA awaits.

 It was good to see Barrow, the footman's, hand has grown back this series, at least he'll stop fiddling with his glove like a low grade Bond Villain. A new character has appeared who appears to be an old friend of Carson the butler, however he has the Historical Drama cough that usually means that he will be lucky to make it to episode 3.

Sorry this is such a brief missive but H is getting tired peddling the generator

Mud and Buckets

Gah, moving house, I hate it, all the upheaval and packing, it can really get to you. At least it does give us a chance to go through the vast amount of "stuff" we have accumulated over the years. There then follow battles between myself and H on what to move with us and what to dispose of. After much heart searching quite a few old books, CDs and various other detritus was put to one side, some of it was thrown out but quite a bit was kept to give to a charity stall.

Obviously in the time honoured way I don't like to talk about my charridde work mate but Kavi suggested that horses in other lands could do with a bit of help. H therefore contacted a nice lady called Jenny from the Brooke Animal Hospital. She duly came round to pick up the items and after chatting to H  was asked if she would like to see our incumbents.

No horses were harmed in the taking of this photograph

What we hadn't allowed for was that it was late on a very rainy day that had turned the fields to a quagmire, all  the horses' rugs were plastered and they had all but finished their haynets. They all did their saddest faces and pathetically sniffed at a lone thistle. Cue, hurried and frankly not convincing explanations.

We have been down in Devon fettling up the fencing and stables at Lowerdown. I have been impressed with what Paul Nicholls has done at his stables, where he puts up a plaque next to each of his horses showing their achievements.

                                                      Pretty Impressive huh ?

So I got to work chronicling our lads' triumphs. Starting with our own ex-racehorse Kavi. I was soon sourcing someone who could inscribe on his board;

Happy Birthday Arnold Crunge Handicap chase (Class 4)
Book your Christmas Party at Worcester Racecourse Handicap Chase (Class 5)

And a couple of others, OK so maybe not the Cheltenham Gold Cup but at his level a decent return

Rooster was next up;

The Jaques Ride 2009 Winner of 40k class (One bucket and brush won)
Exmoor Experience 2011 "Gold" Medal

Scant return it has to be said for  nearly 10 years competing but nonetheless some achievements.

Carly;
Best Trot up at Ludlow Ride 2004 (A rug, 3 sizes too big)
East Clwyd Riding Club Dressage Competition March 2005 (Prelim 2 Category) A rosette.
Can you hear a barrel being scraped ?

Rocky;
Err, umm, let me see oh yes
Jumping Over a small Stream as if it were the Gateway to Horsey Hell (Worcestershire Division ) 2013

                                          Such Grace, such style

It may be a couple of weeks before I can send the next post, much will depend on whether Electricity has yet been discovered in Devon.

Cooking doesn't get any tougher than this

Food plays an important part in most of our lives right ? As far as  horses are concerned, it can be the highlight of their day, and the difficulty is stopping them gorging themselves. Green and plush fields are often looked at as the solution and will suffice to answer all  the dietary needs  but imagine, if you will, a shop full of pies and cake set out for you in which to eat your fill. Some people are very restrained and will just eat until they have had enough. Others (hem hem) would need to be dragged away. Fat horses like people, do not do well and can be prone to diseases which can have a highly deleterious effect on their health.

Feeding time is certainly the highlight of Kavi's day, Rocky is a keen trencherhorse too.  Carly tends to be a picky and Rooster will only eat something if he has read the packet, googled the ingredients and checked his ongoing dietary spreadsheet to ensure that there is nothing in there that may disagree with his delicate, athlete's body (a bit like me then )

 The best way to get Carly to eat and therefore have enough energy to annoy all the other horses is to put his food in another horse's bucket in another stable, for some reason this makes what he would normally turn his snout up into to something exceedingly nommable and  he gets stuck in very happily.

                                                                  "That looks tasty"

H , unsurprisingly, takes a great interest in our equine chums' diet and is constantly getting her head together with her old friend Mad Forage Woman and searching for some new supplement to help their feet, tummies or any other part of the anatomy that they feel needs assistance. Or, on the rare occasions that the horses are competing, to make them go quicker or for longer in a way that would bring a gleam to Sheikh Mo's eyes. (our lawyers have looked at this and passed it as ok, but don't tell the desert potentate just in case he has better lawyers)

 These potions are added to their feeds as and when decreed necessary. This week she has purchased another wonder additive, a suspicious looking white powder in my view, and added it to Kavi's breakfast this morning. We sat back waiting for him to be rejuvenated. His review of the change to his fodder is worthy of AA Gill at his most trenchant. 

                                          "  Stop messing with me snap, woman"

Vogue

As anyone who has moved house knows, it can be a stressful time. But apart from organising removal men, council tax etc  it can be a great time to declutter. Kavi and I were banished to the hayloft to sort out and bag up all the horse rugs, all 52 of them !!!

Now we only have 4 horses so how come they have a wardrobe of which H would be jealous ? Well, whatever the reason, me and my doleful chum were going to pare the number down considerably, you see if we don't. We started off with the winter rugs, I suppose that it is fair enough to have one of those. no one wants to stand outside in the cold and a nice thick rug is a good idea (times 8 ) 8 ? Everyone has to have a spare apparently.

"I have to keep moving or my hooves will freeze"

 

 

Well that's one season sorted. Kavi then reminded me that it can be quite chilly in Spring too (another 8)

 

                                      " I could just handle an oaty lunch to warm me through"

Anyway once Summer arrives then rugs can be dispensed with surely. "Flies " he said gnomishly, "Flies ?" "Yes flies, nasty irritating, stingy ba**ds, you've been riding me when the rascals bite haven't you ? You know how sensitive we are ." Mmm I suppose so

                                             "Yes, that is a sheep, What of it ?"

Well we are now up to 24, but that must be the end. Good Lord No. It is very important that one looks smart when being inspected by friends and family. 8 more, in assorted colours.

                                    "Not every horse can carry red off with such aplomb"

Rooster then piped up from his comfy bed that each and every equine must have some leisure and lounging wear especially when recuperating from injury, as stated in Horse Health and Safety Bulletin 17/2003 paragraph 9 (b)  iii

                                                         "I am a resting superstar"

Are you keeping count ? No I'm losing track (and the will to live) as well. "Rainsheets" interjected  Rocky, at least 8 more in assorted colours to add to the total.

                                             Gok Furrgall goes over to check for fitting.

 Oh yes, stable rugs, cooler rugs, rug shaped rugs, turn out rugs, New Zealand rugs (Light AND heavy weight). Best get down to the Tack Shop and extend my credit lines.



                            

A bad mane day

As you are aware our resident poorlykins is Rooster. he has an ever so slightly bad leg about which he is very concerned. After much research on the internet he has come up with two possible cures. One is to exercise daily on the horsewalker, the other is plenty of rest.

After about three second's consideration he plumped for the latter. He was pleased to find that there was a sale on at DFS (how lucky was that ?) and ordered a Lay-Ze-Horse bed lovingly crafted from the finest straw.

Now H likes to keep to  a routine every day and so all the horses have their breakfasts at 7.45 sharp. They then have an hour and a half to eat and digest it before morning gym based activities break out.

Rooster being aware of this makes sure that he is laid down and fast asleep when she comes out ready to roust them into work thereby missing having to drag his reluctant butt around the horsewalker

                                            "I'm sorry but this is part of my therapy"

As you can see this does have a very drying effect on his mane but he thinks that "He's Worth It"

He hasn't been wasting all his time dozing though. he has started some consultancy work with the firm Equine Health and Safety International (Incorporating Busybody .com ) as a freelance advisor on signage , this is his first effort:



"It could easily happen"

 

After the last thrilling blog some of you have been asking why the horses are wearing masks ? As the equine amongst you will know , they are fly masks which keep flies out of the horses' eyes. Here is Carly modelling this year's a la mode concotion

 



                                The eagle eyed amongst you will notice the feline Gok Wan.

Rooster, however, is not convinced by these and considers them likely to inhibit the correct sighting ratio that is required on a sunny August afternoon (or some such) and calls anyone who is caught wearing one over to his office. He then carefully removes said risky piece of apparel and throws it to the floor. Four times today I had to replace Rocky's mask on his head

                                                A rare shot of the fully clad Grey


.It is difficult to see who is the most stupid , me for doing it or Rocky for responding to Rooster.