Dear Diary
It’s safe to say it’s that time of year again, the time of year that strikes fear into the heart of every self respecting gelding on the planet (well any with mothers of a certain disposition). Why the birth of some dude in a stable necessitates mothers across the land trampling what remains of our manhood into the dust and festooning us with tinsel/antlers or some tragic combination of the two is beyond me. It’s blatant and undeniable cruelty in its most evil form…
I was hoping that my “walk only” sick note would get me out of this annual humiliation but it appears not. What’s worse is I can’t even trot at high speed past anyone we see out (employing the tactic that if I go fast enough I will merely be a shiny blur in their peripheral vision). I am considering pretending to be hopping lame but I’m not sure which is worse — being seen out in my full garish sparkliness or a hysterical mother crying on Herman the German needle man at Christmas. I have a feeling I’m just going to have to suck it up and deal with it like a man.
Talking of which my agent (mother) tells me my little message is nearly ready so keep your eyes peeled for that in the coming days. Offers for further film work have so far not been forthcoming but I’m assuming the Christmas post is causing an issue?
In other television related news, I was thrilled to see my new friends Carl and Nip and Tuck-shop do so well at Olympia. Clearly the education I gave him in the stable block at Your Horse Live paid off. And as for Charlotte-what’s-her-face and Viagra — WOW. I will never be a stressage convert but even I can say that was something amazingly special. As long as mother doesn’t get any ideas when I’m back up and running again then I am happy to say I was seriously impressed by the dude. He may be a poncy warmblood who prances about like a fairy but hey if you’re going to prance like an equine ballet dancer then THAT’S how you do it.
Speaking of Your Horse Live, I am finally able to recount a particular story which I had to keep secret from mum for ages. The second day we were there dad came into my stable wielding a knife and a very serious expression. To be fair, I was somewhat alarmed especially when he took a large chunk of my tail out (cunningly from underneath so ‘blind as a bat’ mother wouldn’t notice). I assumed he was selling my tail hairs on the black market and didn’t want mum to know — but it actually transpires that he was being rather nice to mum and has had a bracelet made for her out of my tail hair. She’s thrilled and won’t take it off. I’m just hoping she doesn’t expect me to reciprocate — people think we have an odd relationship as it is without me parading around wearing her hair round my coronet band…
Mind you, she’s not the only one who could be in for a nice present. My wonderful Facebook fan group (the Hovite Army) have pledged that each of them will send Bransby Horses (the charity for which I raise money for through the publication of my books) £1 if I reach 3,000 fans before Christmas. I have just 67 to go so we’re SO close. That would be a nice end to the year if we can do it — so if anyone wants to come and join the mad house, I can be found by searching for “We love Hovis and his Friday diaries on H&H” on Facebook.
So all that remains for me to do is thank you for an amazing year and wish you all a very Merry Christmas — remember: be good but if you can’t be good then don’t get caught!
Laters
Ho-ho-Hovis
