Out Comes The Sun
My Musto Ebay jacket has still not arrived, after 2 weeks. I really must do something about it. Have been investigating Ebay's policies for compensation should an item not arrive - but what a hassle. I swear this is the very last time I buy something from Ebay.Helpful notes from Panikos: 'you will see same item on ebay next week from seller in cotswolds called postman pat.' 'Even now Chinese peasants are stitching in a fake Musto label'. Etc.
Sunday was the best day we’ve ever spent in our new role as pony owners, which was about time, as I was pretty much giving up on the whole thing as just as disappointing as every other really hyped-up thing, like the National Lottery and tamagotchis. Pony-girl spent the whole day at the stables and it was as fun and exciting as the dressage gala day, cheerful and bustling with merry banter and the thwack of bottom meeting saddle as people set off for hacks across the fields or the schooling arenas.Got a couple of burning questions answered too – ‘can we use the top school if there are other people in it’ – ‘yes, you don’t need to ask’ - so for nearly an hour J circled and cantered and trotted and did whatever it is riders do when ‘schooling’…. I stayed to watch even tho I had a joint of pork to cook with instructions for RPD to put it in the oven at 12.
Then it was time for Clyde to have a bath under the yard tap, out came the Showshine Shampoo for his legs, amazed to discover he has one white fetlock under the ingrained stable stains. With the best care in the world nothing can disguise the fact that Clyde is, ummmmm, ordinary: but he scrubs up into quite a handsome little chap. Pat came over to have a chat while we were engaged in this splashy task and I seized the chance to ask about ‘what to do if we arrive on Wednesday afternoons to ride him and he’s been turned out in the field.’ She looked at me inscrutably and said ‘Get him in then’. I am sure she thinks I am the dopiest and most hopeless pony-mum ever to take up the horse-owning challenge, a sentiment with which I heartily agree.She admired my Toggi blouson (purchased from mumsy–of-the-dodgy-discount) and pointed out that her own was identical, only a different colour, upon which I blustered “Oh of course it is, I didn’t want to look like YOU, Pat!” Another clanger! I could drop 'em for England, I swear. I meant of course that I wouldn’t want to be mistaken for her – look - I know what I meant.
What a great day, though. This is what pony-owning should be like! Pony-girl happy all day, riding, jumping, grooming and washing. Today is Wednesday and the great test of 'can we catch Clyde in from the fields or sneak off home again, defeated. My money's on Clyde, who is the bolshy sort, turning his pony-rump towards you and hiding his head in the corner of the stable when he spots a bridle, four defiant hooves planted square and determined. I admire this spirit greatly, but it doesn't bode well for the 'your pony will see you and come over to greet you!' scenario.
Came home to find that RPD had, as instructed, put the joint of pork in the oven. Maybe next time he will also turn it on.
Sunday was the best day we’ve ever spent in our new role as pony owners, which was about time, as I was pretty much giving up on the whole thing as just as disappointing as every other really hyped-up thing, like the National Lottery and tamagotchis. Pony-girl spent the whole day at the stables and it was as fun and exciting as the dressage gala day, cheerful and bustling with merry banter and the thwack of bottom meeting saddle as people set off for hacks across the fields or the schooling arenas.Got a couple of burning questions answered too – ‘can we use the top school if there are other people in it’ – ‘yes, you don’t need to ask’ - so for nearly an hour J circled and cantered and trotted and did whatever it is riders do when ‘schooling’…. I stayed to watch even tho I had a joint of pork to cook with instructions for RPD to put it in the oven at 12.
Then it was time for Clyde to have a bath under the yard tap, out came the Showshine Shampoo for his legs, amazed to discover he has one white fetlock under the ingrained stable stains. With the best care in the world nothing can disguise the fact that Clyde is, ummmmm, ordinary: but he scrubs up into quite a handsome little chap. Pat came over to have a chat while we were engaged in this splashy task and I seized the chance to ask about ‘what to do if we arrive on Wednesday afternoons to ride him and he’s been turned out in the field.’ She looked at me inscrutably and said ‘Get him in then’. I am sure she thinks I am the dopiest and most hopeless pony-mum ever to take up the horse-owning challenge, a sentiment with which I heartily agree.She admired my Toggi blouson (purchased from mumsy–of-the-dodgy-discount) and pointed out that her own was identical, only a different colour, upon which I blustered “Oh of course it is, I didn’t want to look like YOU, Pat!” Another clanger! I could drop 'em for England, I swear. I meant of course that I wouldn’t want to be mistaken for her – look - I know what I meant.
What a great day, though. This is what pony-owning should be like! Pony-girl happy all day, riding, jumping, grooming and washing. Today is Wednesday and the great test of 'can we catch Clyde in from the fields or sneak off home again, defeated. My money's on Clyde, who is the bolshy sort, turning his pony-rump towards you and hiding his head in the corner of the stable when he spots a bridle, four defiant hooves planted square and determined. I admire this spirit greatly, but it doesn't bode well for the 'your pony will see you and come over to greet you!' scenario.
Came home to find that RPD had, as instructed, put the joint of pork in the oven. Maybe next time he will also turn it on.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home