Dear diary,
So, I remain still here, sans any side effects from the radioactive slime that mother insisted Herman the German Needle Man put into my hocks at vast expense. If anyone does want to see a really scary Halloween spooktacular, just view both my current vets bills and my lifetime cost of ownership. Or even better, ask mother about it – she goes whiter than any ghost you will ever see…
I have had the week off from Crazy Self Employed lady taking me around the block, solo as is her insane want, as I was told to take it easy for a week post the aforementioned injections. Mother did splutter slightly and insinuate I did nothing but take it easy and was at best considered semi-retired, but since the real reason we don’t do as much these days lies with the two-legged side of the relationship, then to be frank, I ignored her. I do understand that operation “get in shape for Your Horse is Alive” is underway, but I have to assume this is for my team as I am already a shape. Round is a shape…
Talking of Your Horse is Alive, I am muchos de excited to be launching my latest best seller; I have to admit this one is a corker. It’s another slightly longer and thicker one (and no, for once I am not casting aspersions on mother’s IQ), which hopefully gives you maximum bang for your book (do you see what I did there?). I will of course have to put up with mother signing copies of it for you all (one has to allow her these little things), but I am hoping many of you turn up to get your hands on another slice of literary genius.
For those of you not coming to Your Horse is Alive in person, then either send a friend or get down with the modern era and order online from www.bransbyhorses.co.uk from Monday 11 November. If you contact them, they will ship anywhere in the world, so if you are not a citizen of our little island, then please don’t be put off – your weather is probably better and you can still get me delivered. What’s not to like?
As always, all the money, every penny goes to charity so think of it as guilt-free shopping and consider me for Christmas, birthday, get well, cheer-up-someone-who-is-a-worse-rider-than-you gifts.
However, for those of you going to Your Horse is Alive, as always, I will be available for photos, selfies, snogs and sale if I kick the door too hard. Keep an eye open for where I might pop up – the possibilities are endless…
Needless to say, I am bracing for being scrubbed within an inch of my life, a touch up haircut from CSEL, lots of tears from mother about the state of my mane (I may, possibly, have sort of rubbed most of it off such that I look like the love child of Last of the Mohicans and a smurf) and some new shoes. Mum bought me some sort of miracle grow stuff but to be honest, she ends up wearing more of it than I do, which thinking about it, might explain a few things about the size of bits of her anatomy… Between the mane issues and the shaven bits on both legs, she’s alternating between crying hysterically, googling hair extensions and pondering if they make paper bags big enough to put over my head. Personally I think it gives me character and a certain je ne sais quoi (you see how much Fronsay I picked up during my stint as official supporters mascot to the British eventing team in Paris? Did I mention that at all?). Mother thinks it makes me look like I have both mange and an ill-fitting toupé.
Anyways, I am off to ponder whether I could rock a hat, ignore the pint-sized pain in the posterior prattling on and avoid doing any work.
Laters,
Hovis
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