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.
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.
