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.