Dear diary,
I haz much exciting news to tell you all, but firstly, I must express my condolences. As a wise horsem, I can see how hard 2020 has been for the humans to be box-rested so much as they battle the human strangles epidemic. And let’s be honest, it’s been pretty hard on all of us, as we have in many cases, formed the only entertainment they have had access to. It’s of little surprise therefore that as we start to see the end of 2020 looming that it’s all going to end in tiers… boom! I know, I’m utterly hilarious.
But in our little corner of a diseased world, at least we’ve had happy tears this week (at least from the blubbership), as Herman the German Needle Man and Cool New Shoes Man came to see me.
It’s been some weeks since the decision was made to stop treating me, stop treating me like an overgrown lab rat that is, and actually allow me to use my Hoverine powers in a way that no vet, doctor or scientist could possibly begin to understand. I is no ordinary horse and as such, I am dismayed as to how long it took bodge-it and scarper to realise treating me in any way that followed the rules of mere mortals was a massive mistake.
Anyhow, the chuckle brothers turned back up this week to see me sashay down the barn and then once more to ensure that my foot reclaimed its rightful place as the most photographed body part in the world (sorry Kim, but your ass just isn’t big enough… news that is). I came down that barn gangway like Naomi Campbell after she’d been paid — otherwise I would have not got out of bed — leggy, fluid and full of attitude, which was mainly due to me thinking I was actually being allowed outside to grass for the first time in weeks rather than wanting to impress the two of them.
Suitably impressed, X-rays then followed, which were deemed very “calm” and fairly “stable”, which as usual, was more than can be said for mother who was shaking more than Wesley Snipes’ tax lawyer at year end.
The upshot is they think I’ve turned a corner (although sadly not the one at the end of the barn which would have given me access to GRASS), and that if I can cope with the final drop in drugs this week then next week I can start doing “a gentle five minute walk in-hand in the school”. I don’t know who found this concept funnier if I’m honest, but I do so admire the way Herman delivered the instructions with a straight face and no offer of sedation (for mother to be clear — I will be perfectly fine). Apparently then, after three weeks, we will X-ray yet again and if all looks ok then maybe I might be released out in a field again. A concept I vaguely remember…
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Talking of releases, last week I brought you the exciting news that my seventh book, Hovis’ Friday Diary: Parties, Piaffes and Pandemics was due out, once again with all proceeds going to the equine charity Bransby Horses. Well, today I bring news that as of this afternoon you will be able to pre-order the book to ensure that you have a copy for Christmas. If you head over to my Facebook page or to the charity’s website at www.bransbyhorses.co.uk, you will find the links to pre-order and get your paws on the first copies flying out of the door. While you’re there, you can pick up some of my other merchandise too — I’m particularly fond of my fridge magnet even if they wouldn’t let me use the slogan “fridge pickers wear mother-sized knickers”. They are killers of joy… but you can be the bringer of it by buying my book for the special equestrian in your life, giving them a giggle and raising much-needed funds for a brilliant charity at the same time.
Get ordering!
Laters,
Slightly less hoppy Hovis
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