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.