Dear Diary
So, I pick up where I left off last week at the start of the Sunday of the cult event Your Horse is Alive. The mothership and the rest of the Team Hovis Human Harem hobbled into sight around 0700 and the usual castigation for not levitating and/or sleeping upside down from the beams like a giant feathered fruit bat was run through. If I can point out that I had ONE stained knee and an otherwise pristine set of four snow white feathers despite it piddling it down with rain and me sleeping outside on concrete like some sort of abandoned sock, then hopefully at least some of you can feel a shred of sympathy.
Mother, of course being the cheating wench that she is, covered me liberally in more white powder than the Happy Mondays snorted in their heyday and tried to pass off her handiwork as her brilliance in grooming which would actually require her knowing as much about brushes as she does about airbrushing *cough* “good lighting” my arse *cough*.
Anyways, eventually the doors opened and my public arrived en-mass – let’s be honest they were all here to see equine brilliance, shop wonderful products and perhaps rub shoulders with superstars from the equestrian world so no wonder the majority headed my way first. I did fear that the rest of the day for them would be something of an anticlimax, but so many wanted to start at the top.
Soon books and merchandise were flying out of the door, I’d had more selfies taken than a Kardashian and shamed more people into donating to Bransby by rattling my donation tin at anyone who had even looked at me sideways. I led the barn in a silent remembrance to the fallen at 1100, standing like a rock with the mothership to respect all those who had given their lives in war. This was unlike the donkeys who decided that yelling “why is no one talking?” loudly in donkey during the silence was appropriate – I guess it proved neither of them was a smart ass…
Mid-morning Esme from This Esme came to say hi – I’d met her the other year and she is very nice. I always think it’s sweet when the newbies in this influencer life come to meet the original and thus GOAT of influencers. Peoples, I have been at this for 15 years – mother and I are like the Rolling Stones of influencing; me for the longevity of talent, her for the fact she looks about 150 years old and yet is miraculously still here…
Then around lunchtime the equine mascot/brand ambassador for the very famous brand Le Mieux came to say hi. She’s a very fine looking blondie with great taste in men as she was clearly smitten with me. Sensing an ability to instantly give their brand even more appeal, the nice humans with her gave me a fetching new head collar to wear and we went for a photo shoot out on the tarmac.
Now bearing in mind she barely came up to my knee caps I do foresee some issues in any ongoing relationship, mainly her needing a mounting block for any serious snogging action. She’s very pretty and clearly likes me as she’s sent me presents since we’ve got back in the shape of a rug and a net, which I think might be code for the fact she wants a tumble in the hay in my stable. I think her name’s Lemon and lord I do hope she’s a bit of a tart…
After this romantic interlude I was then summoned to go and do a parade with the other ponies from the rescue village in the main arena. As I have been in there many times I was a cool calm relaxed pro, which was a good thing as the mothership was kidnapped into the middle of the arena with the guy who does all the talking with a microphone on. Now she and the presenter guy know each other from other years so they had a good natter whilst poor Aunty H, mini-mother and I had to contend with the fact some bright spark had put me at the back of the pack despite the fact my stride length was four times longer than the others.
Aunty H was failing to not look smug as I behaved like a total professional (with very very very white feathers) walking beside her like the superstar I am, whilst Aunty Mary (who had turned down walking me and had volunteered to help with one of the baby ponies) ended up flying a small cob-sized kite. Hopefully none of you viewing the videos on line can lip-read but I do suspect Aunty M may have suggested his parents weren’t married…
All in all, despite the weather being truly grim, it was once again a fantastic weekend with lots and lots of money being raised for Bransby Horses – which is the whole point of why we do it. I could have raised even more money if I had a £1 for everyone who walked past, did a double take and cried out “OMG is that THE Hovis?”. But it has got me thinking – is there a fake Hovis out there? If so do you reckon he could come and live with mother whilst I go enjoy life? Life has for once given me Lemons so I would like to go and make Lemon-neighed…
Laters,
Hovis
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