Dear diary,
Over the years, I have often heard an expression regarding the Karma Bus, but up until this week, was not sure of its existence. Don’t get me wrong, I have seen plenty of buses, but they’re usually headed to exotic sounding places like Frog-In-A-Marsh and full of octogenarians eating Worthers Originals and discussing the days before t’internet.
This week however, I saw this majestic vehicle in full action – action which saw it not just come around (as per the expression) but fling mother beneath its wheels and run over her at 20mph. For on Saturday mother betrayed me.
AND RODE ANOTHER.
Anecdotally some lanky ginger pillock with no idea of where his feet were, but that’s beside the point.
SHE RODE ANOTHER.
Now apparently all this came about because mini-mother wanted to ride more with mother, maybe doing some jumping and such like and I am deemed too old/broken/dangerous/talented* for this to happen (*please delete as appropriate – and trust me, all but the talented bit is inappropriate).
As a result, mother had the brain wave (and here is where it all started to go wrong, because frankly she wasn’t qualified) of taking Barbie Boy in the trailer to the local riding school where mother could borrow one of their trusty and more athletic/younger models and thus achieve the aim without the risks that she unfairly associates with me. Can you hear said Karma bus revving?
Anyways, that’s what they did and hitherto mother was paired with Lanky Ginger Twit (LGT).
Apparently, all was going reasonably ok until a canter was requested and LGT fell to his knees crying for salvation (or forgot where his feet were) and sent mother flying through the air like a human sling shot, face first into the ground. Now to be fair it had to be at a fair force as she shattered her riding hat, and well, her face. Not that she knew that at the time because, being mother and possessing an IQ only truly rivalled by garden tools, she picked herself up off the floor, drove Barbie Boy home in the trailer, turned him out, went home and made mini-mother some lunch and then realised that her head was very swollen and for once that wasn’t a figurative observation about her ego…
By the time she had convinced minor injuries that she didn’t need to go to A&E and yes, the horse she fell off was indeed under the fall from height threshold they had stipulated (which if they’d bothered to actually look would have made it a Shetland and a stunted one at that) her face was resembling a map of somewhere you really wouldn’t want to go. The net result of the 20 billioneth X-ray she has had on her broken corpse revealed a fractured nose and more bruises than typically seen at a Turkish “spa”, where miraculously teeth and noses come back totally different from before…
I can’t say that I am not a fan of the Karma bus, but to be fair, I didn’t expect her to go under it and it reverse over her twice. Even I feel sorry for her and that’s saying something. In all the years I have owned her, I have never damaged her this badly and as a result, I do feel me and this LGT need some serious words. After all, she’s my mother and if anyone is going to deck her it’s me…
As she is now out of action, at least until her head swelling goes down sufficiently for her to buy a new hat, the NCBL (new crazy boss lady) has carried on working me. Although to be fair, I got utterly confused the other day as she was lungeing Sooty in the school and so attuned was I to following her orders that I lunged myself in perfect harmony in the field – much to her amusement.
Yesterday we went out for another hack, but thankfully this time she brought along a wingperson/sacrifice to the gods in the shape of one of the mares from the yard – Mollie. This put me in a stunningly good mood; lovely day, lovely weather, nice hack, girl company and more than one option to throw to the tractors of terror, lest we see one. What’s there not to like?
After also seeing Cool New Shoes Man this week for some new dancing shoes, it’s fair to say I’m living my best life while the mothership is resembling a rotting roadkill raccoon. I am slightly perturbed (as is her human other half) that either of us take the blame for this rather barbaric facial reconstruction, so I’m after a copy of that album Hot Snot by Saggy and a very big badge that says “Wasn’t me” – can anyone help?
Laters,
Hovis
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