Dear diary
So this week has been quiet – the mothership is in Mum-bye (sadly she doesn’t stay “bye’d” for very long and is back tomorrow) and all the heavy rain has meant that short of an aqua-aerobics class, none of us have been able to do a great deal in the school. On the days when the school was usable I have pretty much refused to keep my feet on the floor, resulting in Aunty Em wondering about taking up extreme kite flying as a hobby and then snitching to mother about my Tigger-like tendencies.
This down time has given me much chance to ponder my up-coming trip to the cult horse event Your Horse is Alive and wonder what shenanigans I might get up to this year. I have been very, very lucky to have been invited several times over the years and have met lot and lots of my fans as well as hanging out with some pretty cool people including Carl Hester, Geoff Billington, Mary and Emily King, Monty Roberts, Sir Lee Pearson, Sarah Bullimore and Jay Halim to name a few. I’ve been in the ring four times with Geoff Billington (where I might possibly, to the untrained eye, appeared to have bucked), four times with Mary King (where I might possibly, to the untrained eye, appeared to have spooked) and once with Teddy the Shetland (where I might possibly, to anyone with eyes, appeared to have tried to eat him). In my defence, I was helping show Mr Billington that us larger units can dance, saving Ms King from a woman-eating curtain and well, trying to eat Teddy the Shetland…
So, many of my friends are there again this year; Sir Lee, Jay, Geoff, but also my mates Charlotte Thingiemebobinagarden AND my bestie Jonty Evans, who I am thrilled to see back on board even if he prefers Art to a proper horse. I have heard an alarming rumour that the world number one dressage rider is coming on the Saturday just so that she can meet a proper horse – my worry being she sees my immense talent and I will be kidnapped into a life of prancing. I have more moves than a Royal Marine on the pull and as a world-beater there is no danger that she’s not going to recognise this. It’s a moment of extreme danger and I have to be careful not to get carried away and accidentally consign myself to a lifetime of bling, shaved feathers and prancing between letters like a ballet-loving postman…
I understand Viagra has also asked if he can come and get some tips from the best equine coach in the business – which is understandable when he sees what a night with me did for Nip and Tuck Shop. It’s a cross I have to bear, but I do understand my attraction to other equines – like Aladdin’s lamp, one rub with me and wishes do come true…
Continued below…
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Someone who appears to have missed me of late is Herman the German Needle Man. I got wind of this and thus to give him an excuse to come and see me, I came in from the field hopping lame on Wednesday morning. Herman came straight to see me that evening and has diagnosed that I’ve “thrown” another abscess. I’m not sure I have “thrown” anything, but I certainly have a sore foot and now a happy glow that I’m once again contributing to the education of today’s youth; or more pointedly that the invoice from this latest medical escapade has funded the book bill for both of Herman’s children for year one at university. That’s me – always a philanthropist. Not what mother calls me to be fair and I suspect she was absolutely vile for the entire day that she was in India.
I’m having another x-ray today to see if anything other than an abscess is occurring and then I shall be mainly wearing nappies and duct tape for the next week or so. Fingers crossed for me if you could – well not so much for me (I’m tough as nails), but more for mother whose nerves nor bank balance can cope with much more. She’s due back from Mum-bye on Saturday night so I’m expecting snot all over my shoulder come Sunday morning, followed by a rant with more swear words than an Irish rugby team being offered sushi…
I’m off to hide. Wish me luck and healing vibes,
Laters,
Hoppy Hovis
