Dear diary,
Women. The last great mystery on this planet. It doesn’t matter that we can send men to the Moon, that we can send rockets to Mars or indeed dive the deepest oceans of the Earth; there is one great mystery still left to solve. Well two actually: how on earth do you remove silver spray from white feather and how do you make a woman happy?
Because I have NO idea.
I have spent nine months on a sick note, unable to do any work and banned from even thinking about doing anything other than walk. For a long while I wasn’t even allowed to walk — confined to first my stable and then a piece of grass the size of a central London “garden”.
A couple of weeks ago I got the brilliant news that I am cleared to start trotting and the instruction was given to she-who-must-be-obeyed to start building me up to CANTER. So it’s fair to say I have been a touch forward, one might say keen, full of joie de vie.
Admittedly there have been occasions when to the untrained eye it may have looked as though I was totally avoiding any form of aid from my rider (be that mother or aunty Em) and doing what the feathery heck I liked but that would be grossly unfair. Well mainly unfair. Well OK occasionally fair. I’m happy people! I like going faster than the pace usually reserved for pulling a hearse, it’s not my fault — I’m a racing snake in a bigger format. Sort of like a 4×4 with a Ferrari engine — so I like to shift up a gear. And stay there. Even when mother is screaming “whoa!” in my ear like a member of TOWIE on a rollercoaster; only to be fair she’s not quite that common. Or orange.
It’s fair to say I feel great and someone wants to point out to mother that trying to stop me going forward is like trying to stop gravity — not going to happen people. I haz new dancing shoes, clearance from Herman and I’m on a mission to get fit again ready for next year. Mother can either get on board with this plan or go play on a rocking horse. And yes I am only this brave when she’s at the other end of the country….
So quite a lot of you have been messaging mum, worried by her cryptic comments regarding the other health issue we have found. We don’t know a great deal yet and indeed this next week I’m off to a specialist to find out more but just to put rumours of my imminent demise to bed — I potentially have an issue with my sight. I say potentially because trust me ladies I can see a fine mare perfectly fine although I am all in favour of relying on my other senses — like touch. Hubba hubba. What can I say? I got bored of doing legs and decided I’d try a different body part this time; mother is not entirely yet at the stage of finding any of this funny but give her time — like a super-tanker I’m sure she’ll come around in the end….
Anyway mum and I are off on a little road trip to see an ophthalmologist this next week so hopefully we will have more news in next week’s diary. I’m sure mother will appreciate any spare good luck vibes but to be clear this is more for me surviving a road trip where mother is navigating and nothing to do with my health.
Continued below…
So I’m off to practise more 0-60 transitions, abjectly ignoring mother and seeing if I can motorbike around the corners enough to actually have her inside stirrup touch the ground.
Laters,
Hovis
