Dear diary,
So as you read this, I will be in a car wash having every inch of my body washed and whitened so that mother can convince all the cult members at Your Horse is Alive that she is the embodiment of a brilliant horse owner who defies weather, Mother Nature and mud to have a horse who gleams so white I can be seen from space, 365 days a year. Which is about as far from the truth as possible – most of the time I am a filthy, feral, feathered fur ball but heh, if you’re all daft enough to fall for it.
Cool New Shoes Man came yesterday and fitted me with new shoes ready for the weekend – once again to ensure that none of you think he’s poop at his job. This set have his initials engraved into the bottom which has made me feel slightly sullied – it’s like I’m wearing his tramp stamp on my tootsies. I know he likes a good snuggle and a snog occasionally, but I am now starting to wonder if he has my face tattooed on his ass or something? A heart with my initials over his left man boob? I mean I know I singled-hoofedly paid for his wedding, but honestly a bag of carrots would have been fine in terms of appreciation. I know his students look up to him because he shoes (and in his mind single-handedly saved) one of the greatest equine talents on the planet, but I’m not sure I am a fan of this gesture of ownership of my feet. Although mother tells me she’s promised he can have them when I shuffle off my mortal coil. An idea which is so alarming I’m already planning on outliving mother so I can go and live with Aunty Mary and hang on to my feet…
So later today we will load up onto my exec transport and head down to the cult event Your Horse Live, where once again I will be doing my upmost to meet as many of you as possible and raise money for the charity Bransby Horses. They do such amazing work looking after equines less lucky than me (and yes, I was as surprised as you are to learn that such creatures exist) and they’ve had such a hard few years. Only recently their premises flooded again with hundreds of acres of grazing land and hay ruined by water. All of this puts a massive dint in their finances, so anything I can do to help, I will. I don’t take a single penny of anything we do – and neither does mother (as one look at the holes in her boots and her faintly haunted expression will attest – lord knows what she’s had to do for her bank manager over the years… *shudders*).
I am at the event all day on Saturday and Sunday, so please do come and find me; my merchandise makes great Christmas gifts for the horse lover in your life or for a sneaky treat for yourself. The gang will all be there, including the mothership, mini-mother, Aunty Em, Aunty Mary and for the first time Aunty H, for whom I believe there is a book running as to how long she can cope with people suggesting I am a shire horse…
I look forward to seeing you all but if you can’t make it, then obviously stay posted to my Facebook pages to see photos and any videos throughout the weekend.
Laters,
Hovis
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