Monday 1st September 2003
When HE used to walk
me up and down the road from my stable in Ramsley and back, HE often used to
sing to me. I think it was the rhythm that my shoes make on the road, made him
do it. Although I pretended to be
embarrassed and tried to look as if I wasn’t with HIM, in fact, I rather liked
it. One song in particular, he sings, mainly because it has my name in it, but
also because it is a very nice catchy song. I don’t know if you know it? It’s
called ‘The Big Ship’. As we go along HE sings – “The big ship sails on the
Alli, Alli, oh. The Alli, Alli, oh. The Alli, Alli, Oh”. And, of course, it
just goes nicely with One, Two, Three, Four. One, Two, Three, Four, and so on.
After HE has sung one verse, he changes it. I don’t
mind. It is very pleasant and it is amazing
how it makes the little, half mile walk pass in a flash. For the second verse
he sings – “The big ship sails on the Treggy, Treggy, oh”. For the third verse
it’s “ …on the Wicky, Wicky, oh …” and so on until, either we get to Ninefields
or he runs out of the names of all my comrades and friends and has to start
back on me again. Or, of course, he runs out of puff! And, what has made me
remember this now? Well, it’s because the words go on “…Alli, Alli, oh, on the
first day of September”. And guess what, it’s the first of September today.
Mind you, when HE first started singing it to me, HE used to sing “ …. On the last day of September”. Then HE had to find some songs for that scout video,
remember? And HE got hold of a recording of the song and found out HE had been
singing the wrong words all along. Funny, how unimportant it is. First or last,
what’s the difference? HE tells me that the song was about some nautical,
historical event and therefore the date does matter. Well, maybe to HIM, but
for me, it’s just a song. I expect I will be thinking about it again at the end
of the month, but I hope it’s a long time before we have to walk up and down
again. My stable is nice but I’ve grown quite fond of my old guys here and I’ll
quite miss spending the nights with them, out under the stars. Which reminds
me. I’ve not seen the new, big Mars yet that they were talking about, the other
day. Well, all right, ‘under the stars’
may have been a bit of a romantic exaggeration but ‘under the clouds’ doesn’t
have quite the same ring to it, does it?
Tuesday 2nd September 2003
“Did I ever tell you
the ‘Case of the Missing Farrier’?.
It was a long time ago, now, but I can
remember it, as if it was, er, a long time ago”.
“Yes, Treg. You did
tell me. In fact, you told everyone. Many times. And is wasn’t that interesting
the first time”.
“That’s the trouble
with you, Wick, you don’t give credit where credit’s due”.
“Treg, with ma Scots
ancestors, I just don’t give credit, full stop”.
“You know what I
mean, Wick. You know, it can be a lonely job, being a member of the forces of
law and order. Nobody cares as long as you get their stolen or missing humans
back. After that, they don’t give you a thought. And the worst thing about it
is, that there is very little reward for all that responsibility. Did you
notice that I don’t get an extra carrot or a handful more of short feed than I
did before I became in charge of Human Watch?”
“But, you’ve done
nothing, Treg. Why should you get any more?”
“How about the log,
then? Someone’s got too keep the log, you know”.
“I’ve been behind
the field shelter, laddie. I’ve seen the log and I know that it keeps itself,
for all the good it does”.
“And there’s the
being on call all day and night. ‘Twenty four eight’ it’s called. I’m a 24/8
hossifer, that’s what I am”.
“Treg. What’s the
‘eight’? Are you sure you don’t mean seven?”
“As a lay pony,
Wick, you can’t be expected to know all the responsibilities us hossifers have.
But please! Don’t criticize what you don’t understand”.
“You mean you don’t
know, eh Treg? Right. Well, I didn’t mean to criticise. 24/8 it is, if that’s
what you say. In fact, it’s quite a good idea if you could get it applied to
feed buckets, a very good idea, indeed!”
“Hum, well, of
course it is. If you’ll excuse me Wick, I think I’ll just go and put that on
the log. You never know when I might be expected to come up with my Very First
Profound Idea number 2. See you later, son. Dum de dum de dum de dum …….”
Wednesday 3rd September 2003
“Whatever came over you, Wicky? I’ve not seen
such terribly bad behaviour for a very long while. In fact, not since Silent
Knight refused to go up to the start in the 3.15 at Newton Abbott”.
“Aw, lassie, that
wasn’t bad behaviour. I may have been a little bit stubborn, but bad. Never!”
“What do you call
rearing up and lashing out with both fore hooves, if that’s not bad behaviour?
And throwing HIM against the wall of the field shelter, isn’t that bad?”
“We –ell, it may ha’
been a wee bit forward of me, lass, I’ll agree. But you have to admit, I was
severely pushed to it.”
“There was nothing
done to you that we didn’t all have to have done. And did you see me making a
fuss. Come to that, even old Treg didn’t make a murmur. But you. Well, I was
ashamed of you. We both were.”
“Och, come off it.
Treg doesn’t know which day is Saturday let alone what is happening to him. Do
you think he really would kick up a fuss about anything. By the time he’d have
realised that they were sawing his legs off, he would be looking up at them
from the ground, wondering why they had grown so tall, all of a sudden.”
“You’re not only
badly behaved, Wick, you’re mean and spiteful, as well. Poor old Treg may be a
little slow but you should show some respect for his age, at least.”
“Well, say what you
like, lassie. I hate dentists! I HATE THEM! And if they think I’m going to
stand still while they put a great big piece of metal round my face to keep may
mouth open and then start to rasp away with that damn great file, they’ve got
another think coming”.
B
“But you never used
to make a fuss, Wick. It’s only these last couple of times. Why now?”
“I’ll tell you why
now lassie. It’s since I learned of HUPA. It’s called ‘going private’. You
know, we don’t have to suffer these indignities, having our mouths opened and
teeth rasped down in public. Oh, no, lassie. With HUPA, you can go to a nice,
secluded field, out of the gaze of the great unwashed, and there you can have
your teeth done with cocaine or something. And with pretty young fillies
cantering about to see to your every need. That’s for me, ma Alli. And, until
HE pays for me to go private, I’ll make as much fuss as I like. And that’s
that!”
“You were doing
quite well with your argument until you got to that bit about ‘unwashed’, Wick.
If anyone qualifies for that descrip ….”
“And you call me,
mean and spiteful? I’m hurt now, Alli. I’m going to tell my old friend Treg of
you!”
Thursday 4th September 2003
Well, I know it’s
Thursday, today. I can usually tell because the big rubbish lorries come down
the
It certainly has
been a bumper year for blackberries, this year. The whole place is full of
them. The blackbirds have been doing their best to eat them all up but there are
just too many. It gave HIM a bad idea, the other day. HE thought just because
HE likes them that I would. He went off hiding, as usual, but then came back
and offered me one of his berries. Well, I just spit it out and made a very
long tongue. I think HE got the message. Carrots, mints or apples and the
occasional apple biscuit ONLY, please!
Friday 5th September 2003
Guess what? Treg has gone lame again. And it’s his near side fore, just was it was the first time. Poor old lad, he has been in the wars, of late. I really must make a determined effort not to make fun of him so much. It must be very hard to concentrate when you are in so much pain. And, there’s nothing worse than feet. I’ll give THEM, their due, THEY didn’t try to make him walk to the field shelter for his bucket, this evening. Not that they could have moved him, if they had tried. If your foot hurts so much to walk on it, you just don’t do it, do you? Anyway, THEY didn’t even try. They took his bucket to him and HE drove off home to get Treg’s summer rug so he wouldn’t get a chill if he had to stay out in the field, where he was, all night in the rain. It was a nice thought, although the old boy did manage to hobble up the field with Wick and I when we moved there tonight, to graze. He’s better at going up than coming down, though. Not so much weight on his front foot. One dark thought. I heard them talking about what might have to happen, if Treg’s vet bills keep mounting as they are doing. I think it was just a preliminary thought brought on by worry for the old fellow. I do hope so. I don’t know what I would do without him. As they say, he’s not much but he’s all that I’ve got. Although that isn’t true, on two counts. He’s not all that I’ve got. There’s Wicky. Ugh! And also, Treg is far from ‘not much’. He is a great deal. As a close friend, a companion, and sometimes, yes, a source of amusement, Tregony, to me, is a great deal. I hope, with all my heart, that he gets well soon.
Saturday 6th September 2003
Of course, when THEY came this morning, Tregony was up, above the field shelter with me and Wicky. And the weather had improved so he didn’t need his rug on any more. THEY still allowed him to have his bucket, where he stood and, as THEY were up with him, it meant that Wick and I got away without being groomed. On the negative side, I had to go all the way up the hill to get my treats. Later on, in the morning, THEY came back with Andrew. It quite gave Wicky a turn, as he thought Andrew had come back for round two of the teeth fight. However, Andrew ignored Wick and set about sorting out Treg’s foot. He got those great big pincer sort of things and gave Treg’s foot a good old squeeze. Well, you could tell he had found the right spot, straight away, as Treg jumped nearly as high as Wicky did, when he was having his teeth rasped. However, in the way that most humans can be very stupid at times, Andrew didn’t seem to think that he had found the spot and gave Treg’s foot another good old nip. You could see the concentration in Treg’s eyes, as he tried very hard not to nip Andrews bum. It is a good job, though, that humans don’t know horse swear language or they all would have been very shocked at Tregony’s appraisal of his rescuers. Having given Treg’s hoof one final pinch, Andrew finally seemed satisfied and he whipped out his knife and started hacking away at the underside of the hoof. Although he gouged out a sizable hole, he didn’t seen satisfied with this and drew out another, smaller pair of cutting pincers. To cut a long story short, he found the abscess, just short of cutting Treg down to Wicky’s size. All the human’s seemed satisfied and thankfully, Treggy got some relief, as the pus oozed out. By the evening, he was limping round quite well and all that remained was to humiliate him by making him stand his bad foot in a bucket of warm disinfectant, before leaving him with a poultice under green tape for the night.
Sunday 7th September 2003
Hello! It’s me, Tregony. Alli told me that, as I had been so
poorly of late, I could write today’s diary page. An honour, indeed! Mind you,
she is standing looking over my shoulder, while I dictate it to HIM, in case I
say anything wrong. By which she means, anything that she wouldn’t approve of.
Ouch! “Alli, if you do that again, I’ll just walk away and let you do it
yourself” Where was I? Oh, yes. I was
going to tell you about my
medication.
They are giving me stuff to get rid of my tics, although I didn’t know I had
any. It’s probably because they are a special kind of tic – a bio tic. Anyway,
I heard her say that what she had in her syringe, was an anti bio tic, so I
suppose that’s what caused my foot to go bad. it’s funny though. Although she
has this medicine in her syringe, she doesn’t seem to want to give it to me.
Not like wormers. Them, they just get the syringe, stuff it down your throat
and, whoosh, your dinner is spoiled for hours. No, this anti tic stuff never
seems to go near my mouth. In fact, all she seems to do is wave it around and
then smack me hard on the bum. It must go in by infusion, or confusion or
something. Whatever, it seems to work pretty well. I’m starting to feel a whole
lot better, now. And, you know what, I get a different colour bandage every
day. So now, I’ll be able to tell the days apart and Wicky won’t be able to say
that ‘old Treg doesn’t even know what’s Saturday’. Well, I will now. I think?
Well, it’s a start, isn’t it? I don’t suppose old Einstone discovered his
theory of relationtivity all at once. He probably stated with brothers and
sisters, and then worked up to aunts and uncles, and so on. Big oaks from
little apples grow, as they say. Well. I better be off and check up on the
Human Watch log. What with my bad foot an’ all I’ve not been able to get round
the back of the field shelter for a while. This is
Monday 8th September 2003
Not only has HE had worms, now HIS hard disc is in imminent danger of crashing, HE tells me. Well, I thought HE had been looking rough, lately, but I had just put it down to HIS intense dislike of shaving. I hadn’t realised that HE was so near to breakdown. I know I accidentally bit his thumb, the other day but I really don’t think that, this could be the cause. What I don’t understand, is how HE knows. When I asked him, HE mumbled something about getting a message when he puts HIS boot up. I think it pretty insulting to try and fob me off, like that. It’s as if HE doesn’t trust me with the truth, so HE makes up a story about HIS wellies, just to keep me quiet. It’s bad enough, my having to look after Tregony. Now I suppose I’ll have to nurse HIM, as well. Maybe it will only be until Friday, when apparently he has someone coming to try and fix it. I bet this someone is in for a real big surprise when he is given a welly boot to fix, although I don’t suppose HE would be so insulting to him.
On another tack, there’s been a bit of a goings on, today, in our field. One of the traveller sheep, got itself stuck in the fence and just sat there and shouted it’s silly head off. You should have seen Treggy’s face. He just stood there watching and trying to puzzle out what the sheep was doing there and why it was singing. Eventually, he decided that this was an incident and needed to be recorded on his log behind the field shelter. Well! A major coup for Tregony. Big enough to get him to turn himself round and hobble, painfully down the hill to his log. The trouble was that when, finally, he made it, he had forgotten what he had gone down there for. But, being a really staunch and loyal member of the Human Watch force, he just turned himself round and painfully hobbled all the way back up again. When he got back to where he started, he was just about the try and remember what he had gone back up the hill for, when he heard this strange noise of a sheep singing. Well, you can imagine. This interesting sight was enough to completely absorb him until bucket time, when he thought to himself. “I must remember to record this on the log, after supper”. I’m not sure that he did, though!
Tuesday 9th September 2003
I do like routine. There’s nothing better, I find, for a properly comfortable life. If something happens to upset routine, it usually means that I miss out on my fair share of treats. Take this morning, for example. HE went up the hill to lead Treggy down for breakfast (the norm, these days, I’m afraid) and while HE was there HE saw a silly sheep, caught up between the wire fence and the stone wall & hedge. Apparently, THEY had already seen another sheep, in Clarence’s field, next to ours, shouting its head off and laying down on the other side of the wall.
Anyway, HE had to lead old Treg down to his bucket and, while HE took his bandage and poultice off, SHE went up to try to shoo the sheep out from behind the wire mesh. The trouble is, that sheep make Treg look bright, and when SHE tried to get it to go back, it ran forward, instead, wedging itself firmly between the wire and the wall and getting tangled up in brambles as well, in the process. SHE had to leave it, to come down and redo Treg’s poultice, so HE gave me treats instead of me first going with HER to the gate for apples and sugar and then coming back to him for carrots (routine!). By the time HIS treats ran out, SHE had finished with Treggy so they both went up the hill to release that daft sheep. Because of this, of course, I lose out. Finally, after having to cut away the brambles and frighten the sheep back enough so HE could get a good grip on its back wool, the sheep was hoisted over the barbed wire and it ran away without even a ‘thank you Alli for missing your treats to let them save me’.
The next part of my routine is to try and ponce some extras out of her while she gives Treg his apple and then to run up to the Throwleigh Road gate so that I can get some mints out of him, after he puts the buckets away in the car. Can you imagine how disgusted I was when HE walked away from the car and into Clarry’s field, to go and rescue the other silly sheep. When HE got to this one, it had managed to get itself wound up in many strong thick strands of bramble. After dashing about to avoid HIM, it finally got itself free, in fright, when he put his foot down a rabbit hole and fell over, nearly on top of it. This one too, just ran away, as fast as it could. If ever I get to be TOP MARE (i.e. Grand Old Dam), I’m going to make breaking routine a serious crime. Oh, yes, and I’m going to abolish sheep!
Wednesday 10th September 2003
We were having this discussion today, Wicky, Treg and I, about the scope of the Human Watch thing. Treg was telling us how it was not just about ‘watching’ humans but much more than that. He said that is was more about watching out for humans. ‘You know how silly they can be’ he said.
By the way, did I tell you that Tregony is back to full fitness again. With a vengeance. He is even running now and not just when I bite him. SHE is giving him an antibiotic shot, every evening now. SHE says for a course of seven days. Well, if he keeps on improving as he has done these last couple of days, we won’t be able to hold him. Even his brain seems to be working better. No mean feat, that! Anyway, back to what I was saying.
Treg told us that, as Hossifer in Charge, he had a duty to ensure the safety and well being of all the humans ‘on his patch’. Well, Wicky immediately pointed out that Tregony was a full bay and had no patches, on him, anywhere. I wanted to know if this meant all resident humans or if it included those transient ones that we get such a lot of here. Did ‘his patch’ cover all the wamblers as well? At this point, Treg had to go back round the field shelter to consult his log. After quite a while, during which time, Wicky quite lost interest and started to wander off up the field, Treg came out from behind the field shelter and announced that he was sorry for being so long but that he had been sending off a hay-mail to haytch queue, to get some advice on the matter. It appears that HQ (as we will call it for short) really hadn’t thought about it. They told Treg that they would bring it up at the next generals meeting, as long as the generals could make it. That seemed to be it, so we decided to adjourn the meeting for the time being. And anyway. Wicky was quite two thirds up the hill by now, so we would not even have a kwor-rum. At least, that was what Treg told me. I have to bow to his greater knowledge of Human Watch protocol in such matters. I do think, though, that it is lovely to have the old boy back again, firing on all three cylinders. Hooray for horsepower!
Thursday 11th September 2003
Wicky was just
standing down by the stream, shaking his head.
“Did you ever see
such a thing?”
What was remarkable,
was the sight of Tregony cantering up the field. That’s right, CANTERING! It
had started like a normal, uneventful day. A bit dark and drizzly, even a bit
miserable. Certainly nothing to get excited about. We moved around, grazing
here and there, I would return to the field shelter if the rain got too heavy,
it’s the royal breeding, you know, mustn’t get too wet or chilled. Well, the
afternoon wore on and then THEY arrived, early evening, with the supper
buckets, as usual. Treg was still in his new, active state, showing an interest
and coming up to the field shelter without prompting, to get his supper.
We all settled down to eat. It’s usually a
nice relaxing meal, supper. No feet to be picked out, no top and bottom
sponging, no grooming – just nice pleasant munching. HE usually sits on the hay
bale between Wicky and me and burbles away. It’s nonsense, but it’s nice,
reassuring nonsense and offers the promise of treats to come after buckets.
Since Treg has had his last round of bad feet, SHE has had to give him his
antibiotic injection, usually while he is eating, so his mind (?) is on better
things. Anyway, this she did, as usual, and Treg carried on eating, also as usual.
And then, suddenly, just as I was getting, deliciously, to the bottom of my
bucket, Treg grunts, twirls round and blunders out of the field shelter. He
pauses for a moment, deciding left or right as he reaches the entrance and then
plunges off, behind the shelter, between the hedge and the shelter wall.
I could see HE was
wondering what was going on and then, after calling out Treg’s name, HE picks
up his half full bucket and goes round the other way to cut him off. I didn’t
see what happened next but I heard HER exclaiming that Treg had avoided him and
was charging along the field and up the hill. At this, I left my supper and
came running out to see Treg, fast disappearing up through the middle field, up
into the very top field. Bravely leaving my supper for Wicky to steal, I called
out to him and galloped up to get him. When I reached him, I could see he was
‘away with the centaurs’ as we say and I tried to entice him down by cantering
back to THEM. When this didn’t work, I had to go back up and guide him down. To
cut a long story short, he finally got back and, after a lot of encouragement,
THEY managed to get him to finish his supper by the stream. As Wicky said.
“I reckon Treg has
just had his second Very First Profound Idea (VFPI)”.
Well, whatever it
was, it proved he is not lame anymore!
Friday 12th September 2003
HE warned me. “Don’t
give me too much to type, today. The guy is coming to fix my hard drive, and I
will need all my time, reinstalling all my software”.
Well! Is it my fault if HE’s not well and having trouble with HIS tack?
You recover on your own time, I told HIM. But really, HE needn’t have bothered,
anyway, as not much has happened, this last twenty four hours. What I usually
do, at a time like this, is reminisce or get one of the others to tell us a
story or something. But today, I’m feeling just too lazy. I’ll get HIM to look
around for a nice interesting photograph or two. Really, if you look back to
the beginning of this diary, in the archives, you will see that I never used to
say so much, anyway. Things seem to have escalated from just a day to day
listing of what had happened to a very verbose, half a page of words. Well,
‘that’s blogging for you’, as Treg would say!
Saturday 13th September 2003
“You know, Tregony,
I stood here, in this corner of the field now, for a good three hours. And
you’ve not said a word!”
“Umph!”
“UMPH? UMPH? What’s
that supposed to mean, eh, my lad?”
“Er, er …”
“Have you lost your
tongue, man? What’s the matter with you, you gone silly or something? No, I’ll
re-phrase that. Have you now gone completely bonkers?”
“Dum – ti – dum – ti – dum – ti …”
“Tregony, TREGONY.
Stop it, at once. Explain yourself man. What is it?”
“Oh, is that you,
Wicky? Did you day something? Sorry, I must have missed it.”
“Sorry? Sorry, is it. You’re either very,
very rude or you’re as deaf as a mounting block. Pull yourself together, man.
Don’t you know what day it is, now that you’ve not got different coloured
bandages on your foot?”
“I can see that
you’re talking, Wick. But I can’t hear a word. Now I’ll have to decide whether
to listen to you or to carry on with my ‘speriment. What would you do, Wick?”
“You don’t have to
shout, you old fool. It’s you that’s deaf, not me.”
“There you go,
you’re talking again, aren’t you? Oh well, I expect there’s nothing for it.
I’ll have to cancel my ‘speriment and listen to you. The whole of the
scientific world will lose out, and it will be all your fault, Wicky. And I’ll
now get my nobble prize. And then where will we be? Back in Ninefields, I
suppose. Oh dear, I’m rambling on. What is it Wick?”
“What on earth are
you talking about, man? Science, ‘speriments? And what are you shaking your
head about like that for? And banging your head on that post? Treg, old friend.
Is this it? Have you really gone …”
“Wow, that’s better,
I must admit. Having mud in your ears really makes you feel funny, doesn’t it
Wick? Now, what was it you were wanting to say?”
“Mud in your ears?
MUD. Tregony, what on earth …”
“I was just
conducting a ‘speriment, Wick. I was trying to see if it was possible for a
very large, handsome, bay hossifer of the law to disguise himself as a small
dirty Shetland cross, so that I could work undercover, and I thought to myself
‘what does a small, dirty Shetland cross look like?’ And I looked at you and I
thought ‘ well, I must start with the mud in the ears’ but when I did,
everything went quiet and I forgot what I was doing.”
“Tregony?”
“Yes, Wicky?”
“Oh, never mind …!”
Sunday 14th September 2003
THEY said that they are off to look over Wood today. That’s the big
house, not a forest. I don’t know if you remember me saying that I used to be
stabled at Wood? Well, it was not quite the same place, but nearly. You see,
Wood was a large estate back at the start of the 1900’s. It first was a quite
large Victorian ‘town house’ although situated deep in the middle of the
countryside. Then this was knocked down and a very large complex of buildings
was constructed, with both the mansion, lodges, a farm and buildings for the
staff, farm workers and animals. Much later, estate fell into disrepair and was
split up, the farm side being sold off separately from the mansion and gardens.
Even the farm was no longer a fully working farm, just a few buildings and a
few fields being used by a local farmer to supplement his own farm. And that
was where I was stabled, for a while. THEY rented the use of one of the old
stables and a field from the farmer.
Anyway, this part
of the estate was now called Wood Home Farm.
Apparently, after a very chequered history where the mansion was going to
be a hotel and a school and a health farm for the wealthy, it has eventually
been bought again, as a private residence and the new owners are endeavouring
to rebuild the gardens to something like their former glory. And, today, as a
goodwill gesture and to raise money for the local Church House (an historical
building in need of maintenance), the new owners have opened their gardens to
the public. Coincidentally, a friend of HIS, Robin, has been up in a light
aeroplane and has taken some shots of the place, along with many other local
areas. My stable was in facing the long line of animal stalls in the centre of
the page to the right. I used to look out on those rows of stalls and see my
friends, the moos, and in particular, Alison. Unfortunately, those dear girls
have all gone now, in last year’s foot and mouth cull. Oh dear, sad memories. I
must go now and stand in the field alone
for a bit.
Monday 15th September 2003
THEY came and went,
as usual, with our buckets, this morning. No hint that anything out of the
ordinary was going on. It was a bit chilly, at first, this morning, but the sky
showed that it was going to be a fine day. That was the trouble. It was a fine
day. Fine and warm. And that gave HER the idea, of course. Before SHE went, she
closed off the two gates to our upper fields. Normally, this wouldn’t have
mattered as we tend to have a bit of a doze in the field shelter, on hot days
to save ourselves for the night’s hard eating. But, today, I got some idea that
something was up. I went up to inspect the gates and then went back to the
shelter to worry.
Along they drove, mid morning, opening the
gate and driving in. That’s always a bad sign, as well. They stopped down by
the stream and got out all manner of buckets and water carriers and sponges.
Then came the head collars! That clinched it.
They started with
Tregony, as obviously, if he saw what was going on, he would be off, up the
field. Strangely, once he has the head collar on, he gives in. He was as quiet
as a lamb (what a silly saying, lambs are never quiet, in my experience). Then
they let him go and he ran up by the
side of the field shelter to watch. My turn next. I am afraid I disgraced
myself a little by making myself as tall as possible (and that’s pretty tall)
when they wanted to do my mane and they waving my leg around in a threatening
manner, when HE was splashing buckets of
cold water over me to rinse me off. It didn’t help, though. All I got was a smacked
bum and a shouting at. Really, it was nothing, on both sides, and I got a
mouthful of mints, as a reward. Wicky was last and, strangely, he didn’t make
much fuss other than showing his obvious distaste for anything to do with
‘clean’.
Really, it was all
over fairly quickly and painlessly and, as soon as I had had a shake and a
roll, the day subsided back to normal. The sun soon dried us off and we got in
a few more hours grazing before supper. Not a bad day, after all.
Tuesday 16th September 2003
I hear one of my old
friends has contacted HER with news of my daughter, Mimms (HE’s not sure of the
spelling but her official name is Toujours Ma Reine, the Toujours after me and
the royal part from her father. It would appear that Caroline (the human that
my daughter lives with) is considering parting company with her, as she has to
go back to work or something. You have no idea how this news has affected HER!
First the silent, thinking about the ‘what if’ bit, then the softening HIM up
by telling him how I would enjoy having my daughter live with me and then, the
even greater softening HIM up by saying ‘but, WE couldn’t afford it’ and so on
and so on.
Me, I’m not so sure.
Yes, it would be nice
to have someone young to play with for a
change. My two old boys are very nice but they are slightly lacking when it
comes to frolicking around. And it would be lovely to have someone to talk to
about the old times and to catch up on all my grandchildren. But then, where
would she live? There is only room for one in my stable, at home. The fields
are plenty big enough but how would she be about living out all winter? And, I
must admit, I would feel more than a little jealous if she were left out and I
had to be brought home at nights. And talking of jealous, do I really want
someone to challenge my authority in the fields? There’s a lot to think about,
not only for THEM but also for me. And then, of course, there’s always the
possibility that she has been re-homed already or at least, will have been
before Caroline visits at the end of the week. As I said. Lots to think about.
I think we all must just wait and see how things turn out. Whatever happens
about my little queen, I expect THEY will be getting a lot more news and photos
from the old days. If they do, I’ll get him to share them with you.
Wednesday 17th September 2003
I shouldn’t laugh
but have you seen Harry’s tail? Apparently, where he goes in his other field in
the next village, the sheep nibbled his tail. Because of that it ended up so
raged that his groom had to cut it straight and it is halfway up his back now.
You know Harry is a very big boy, well over 17 hands, so, of course, it looks
even worse. On Wicky, it would look a really good tail but on Harry? Well, as I
say, I shouldn’t laugh. But, to be honest, I do!
You
know what I was telling you about, yesterday? Well, you can tell how bad it has
got now. SHE has been doing her sums. SHE had all her old account books out and
has been reckoning how much it cost in food and vet bills to keep three horses
and then, from there, working out how much extra four would cost. It’s hard to
tell if HE is looking depressed and SHE is looking hopeful or if it is the
other way round. You see, it could be that, if it is very expensive, that might
make him look hopeful that SHE will decide against it and SHE would be looking
depressed because she is thinking the same thing. Who knows? Humans are such
strange creatures.
Thursday 18th September 2003
THEY laughed at me
again this morning, when I suddenly stopped and went very tall, looking out
along the bridle path. THEY were just about to say that it was just old Alli
seeing ghosties and fairies again, when SHE saw it too. A deer, a little doe
was making her way along the path, quietly and delicately. Of course, when SHE
made all that noise, shouting out to HIM about it, the little deer swiftly
moved away through the hedgerow. If I remember, I told you about one that we
saw, a couple of months ago. That is about the frequency that they seem to pass
by here.
Even when THEY are not here, I rarely see any
others. They live a really nice life, roaming about free. Nobody chases them in
this part of the country and they just move about grazing from place to place.
The only problem with that life really, is if the winter is particularly harsh.
We don’t get those kinds of winters very often here. Normally it is very wet.
But not too cold or snowy. I understand, from Wicky, that this was not always
the case, but I am too young to know about that. I may have said it before, but
we really do see a good mixture of wild creatures here. Just in our few little
acres on the side of the great hill, Cosdon. The weather has been unseasonably
warm and sunny lately. I don’t know if this means we are in for a harder winter
this year or if it is a sign of warmer summers to come. The main problem this
year has been the lack of rainfall. Our stream is down to a trickle and the
grass has dried up to a large extent. It’s sort of ironic, really, that this
was the year THEY chose to get drainage put into the fields. The part of the
field near the bridle path gate used to be always under water, summer and
winter. Now, it is as dry as last winters Swedes and THEY don’t know if it’s
the drainage or the weather that has done it. Let’s hope it goes on for a nice
long time yet so the day when I have to come in at night, is far, far away!
Farrier day today. I always find that
interesting. And, apart from when you are having your own feet done, you can
graze around while still keeping an eye on the others and watching out that no
one is getting any treats that you’re not. I really quite like having 
new shoes
too. After the old pair have been on for quite some time, ones feet seem to
outgrow them and even start to feel a bit uncomfortable, Even more so for me, I
think, because I go quite a long time between shoeing as I don’t wear mine out.
You see, I don’t do much road work any more. To be honest, I don’t do much work
of any kind any more. That is, apart from looking after Tregony and keeping
that little Shetland cross
That reminds me.
You’ll never believe it. After all the problems that Treg has had with his
feet. First the rear, then the fore, then the rear again. The poultices,
dressings and antibiotic injections and the very frequent visitations from the
vetinary profession. And then, when all was over and we were all looking
forward to Mark fitting Tregony’s shoes back on again, we found out that Treg
was lame on his rear again and could only have his front shoes on. It was Mark
who found it. He noticed when HE was leading Tregony up the hill to be shoes by
the front gate. Mark confirmed it by cutting back the old guy’s hoof and, sure
enough, more pus came out. At least Mark caught it in time. And Treg is really
proud of his new front shoes and is running about the fields like a thirty five
year old!
Saturday 20th September 2003
All males are alike.
They just don’t listen. SHE found it out this time, when SHE was reading the
latest pages of this diary and saw what HE had written, both in the text and
also as captions for my photos. First the diary itself. It was last Tuesday,
when he was writing about Caroline’s impending visit and he said that Mimms’ official
name was Toujours Ma Reine. Of course, I hadn’t said that at all.
What I told HIM was, that if I had had my way
in the naming of her, that is what I would have called her. But, as I said
before, HE just didn’t listen and then when he had to get down to writing up
the diary and couldn’t remember, HE just made it up. Typical. That’s men for
you. Doesn’t matter whether they’re horse or human. Then. You know what else?
He wanted some photos to liven up the page a bit and HE came across some that Caroline
had given HIM last time she came to visit. Right enough. Same again. I’m sure
she must have told HIM who was who on the pictures but he went and said that
the second photo was Mimms and her daughter when, in fact it was First Pearl
and Gracie. The only connection is that Gracie shares the same sire as Mimms.
In fact, the only thing that HE did get right on that entry was the spelling of
Mimms’ name because, although it wasn’t obvious, HE got the caption wrong for
the first photo, as well. HE labelled it as ‘My daughter and I’, implying that
it was Mimms, when in fact it was a photo of my sister Falene. Still, he’s
pretty good at the carrots though and I do need someone to type my diary up for
me, so I think I’ll keep HIM a little longer.
Sunday 21st September 2003
Caroline came today
with her son. I have to admit that I couldn’t help HIM today when HE asked me
to confirm the spelling of the boy’s name. HE was being a bit funny because of
what I wrote about HIM yesterday. You know, sort of ‘all right, if you think
you can do it better ….’ sort of attitude. Anyway, we think the lad’s name is
Tarquin, but we must wait and find out at some later stage. So, the bad news or
the good news? I’m talking about the
possibility of Mimms coming to stay here with
me. Well, it seems that Caroline is going to keep her. Which is good news for
Mimms, of course. As for me, I’ve got mixed feelings, as I told you before. I
would love to have someone to lark about with but I could soon become pretty
jealous if I was forced to share THEIR affections. However, Caroline came up
with a suggestion which seems to be a very good solution. She said that
‘wouldn’t it be nice if Mimms could come and spend the summer here. Both SHE
and HE thought that this would be a very good idea too, so much that they will
propose that we give it a try next summer, There was some talk of breeding from
Mimms but I’m afraid that is something that THEY would be too scared or
cheapskate to do. And anyway, if there is any mothering to be done around here,
I’m the one who should be mother, not grandmother!
By the way, you may
see a few more photos of HIM in the coming weeks as Tarqual took quite a lot of
pictures when they all came to Ninefields. It made a change from HIM being
behind the camera. I gather there are one or two of us making funny faces. I
just dare HIM to publish those without my permission.
Monday 22nd September 2003
“’ere, look at
this!”
“What’s tha’ laddie?
What’s the matter noo?”
“What d’you reckon
on them, then?”
“My dear Tregony,
I’ve no idea what you are going on about.”
“Look. LOOK! Here.
On my side.”
“Oh, yes, laddie.
You’ve gone and brushed up against something. You really should be more
careful. Never mind, it will brush off. I expect HE will get it off for you.”
“No, Wick, you don’t
get it do you?”
“I rarely do with
you, my man. I always have a wee bit o’ trouble following your quick mind. Tell
me. What’s troubling you now, sonny?”
“Can’t you see, Wick?
Stripes. You know. Brooooom! NEE Nah NEE Na NEE Na. You know. Stripes. Go faster
stripes. I’m a real fleece car now, aint I Wick?”
“Will you stop
running up and down in that ridiculous fashion, Tregony. You are not, I repeat
NOT a police car. You are a horse. And what’s more, a horse who is old enough
to know better. If you were a little colt, I could understand it. But, at your
age …?”
“That’s the trouble
with you civilians. You don’t understand the true rigours of the konstabulary.
If we is going to a catch those villains, then we need to be fully equipped to
deal with all sorts of situatshuns. And that means going fast. … and going NEE
Na NEE Na and like that.”
“Tregony, Tregony, I
despair. Ever since you got that IDEA, you’ve not been the same. I know you’ve
had a lot of foot trouble. I know you’ve endured an awfu’ lot of pain. But,
man. You’ve been acting very strange, o’ late. I mun tell ye.”
“Don’t worry Wicky.
There’s some of us as has got it, and others who just have to stand and stare,
as they say. Oh. That’s good. I must remember to put that on my log. Now. Do
you know that since I’ve had these stripes, I’ve …. Oh. Funny. He’s just walked
off. Maybe he had to …. Oh Alli. Look Alli. Look at my side!”
“Yes, Treg. Looks
like you’ve been rubbing up against that wall again. Never mind. HE’ll soon
brush it off.”
Tuesday 23rd September 2003
It’s started to turn quite cool now. We had
our first frost, this morning. Not a hard one. But enough to remind us of the
ways of Autumn and then Winter to come. Actually, we
prefer it. Our body temperature is much higher than humans and the heat of Summer always brings the misery of the flies. When it gets
cooler, we are not bothered by the temperature and neither are we molested by
flies and midges. In the Summer, we have to spend most
of the day snoozing in the filed shelter (or under a tree if we don’t have a
shelter). Then we live a nocturnal life. It works out quite well, really,
because now the grass is much harder to get, we can spend all day and night,
grazing, to make up for it.
I’ve said before,
how I won’t like it when I have to come in to my stable at night and leave my
two friends out here at Ninefields.
Really, I don’t see much difference between being in the field shelter and
being in the stable. In fact, the only difference is that Wicky and Tregony are
not with me. THEY are very nice but it’s not like being with your own. On the
other hand, although the stable is just
a field shelter with a half door, it is lower down in the valley and much more
sheltered than in the open field. And then, I do get THEIR undivided attention
when I am there, not like in the field, where I have to share all the treats
and cuddles with the other two. I do get a bit upset when I first come in. You
can see the kick marks in the boards round the stable walls. But that is just
to let THEM know that I like to do what I want to do, when I want to do it!
After the first few nights, I soon get used to it and sometimes look forwards
to our walks, up and down the
Wednesday 24th September 2003
“Alli. Alli, I fear
Treg has gone completely off his rocker, lassie.”
“No, Wick. He’s not
gone anywhere. He’s always been there. At least he is happy now he has his role
as a Human Watch Hossifer. Have you noticed how he goes charging off these
days? Doesn’t wait for me to tell him what to do?”
“Well, if you ask
me, ma girl, I think he is just goin’ senile. There
never is any reports of missing humans. No wonder really. Who would be silly
enough to steal them. What good are they?”
“Oh, I don’t know,
Wick. Haven’t you seen young
Harry, over there, eying up our pair, when
they come to bring our buckets? Don’t you think it hasn’t crossed his mind to humannap them, some day?”
“Ay, there is tha’ I’ll grant you. They can be of use at times. As long
as they’re not trying to file your teeth down .”
“Coming back to our
friend. I don’t think it hurts for him to have an interest. I will admit
running around the field going NEE Na NEE Na all the time is a bit childish.
But, at least, he is running. Far better than when we all thought he had given
up for good.”
“And, he’s a bit o’
fun as well, I suppose. Well, as long as he doesnae get in the way o’ ma eating, I guess I’ll now say any more about it. Wouldn’t
it be fun though, if a human was stolen and they asked Treg to carry out an
investigation? I bet he’d go all serious on us.”
“I wouldn’t be
surprised if he solved the mystery, as well. Cobs can be really stubborn when
they want to be. You know, the other day, old Treg said to me. Alli, he said,
Alli, I’ve half a mind …”
“Well, lassie. At
least he recognises the fact, so it cannae be all bad!”
Thursday 25th September 2003
Hossifer’s Log : Thursday the ..er.. something of September. Early a.m.
Saw a very
suspicious character cantering along the
Thursday the .. er.. same of September. A bit later…
I was patrolling my beat, at approximately a bit after before, when all
of a sudden, from the deep dark distance behind me, I appraised in the offing,
the sounds of a vagrant equine who may have been
concealing a human about their person. Recognising that person as none other
than one Mathew, of Up the Road, Turn Right and In Those Stables, I made it my
business to call out, in an arresting tone. Ho there, you varmit,
come here and be apprehended. But no, the equine in question just carried on,
although he did look the other way, in a sort of embarrassed fashion as if he didn’t know me. I have considered and pondered on these faks for a considerable time or two. In the light of my experience,
I have concluded that this time, the suspek was not a suspek but a law aboding citizen. However. I hereby let it be known that his card is marked and if
anything like that happens again, I will come down on him with the full wait of
the law.
End of Entry.
Friday 26th September 2003
Some weeks seem to be very quiet, don’t they. The dawn breaks, the sun comes up and you go down to the stream to wait for your breakfast bucket. You work through your treats, seeing if you can possibly get in one or two more, not because you want them but just for the fun of doing it. Then, it’s back to the field shelter for a little doze before going out up the hill for a day’s grazing. Nothing new happens, no one goes by apart from a few lorries and vans, no tractors or hay deliveries go past, no strange horses and you don’t meet a deer or stray sheep or anything – even the rabbits seem to have deserted us. It’s all very pleasant and relaxing, although Treg does complain that his log is getting awfully empty and he is worried that he might lose his hossifership unless something really exciting or criminal happens. I doubt if Wicky has even noticed. One day seems much like another to him. I expect when you only have half a set of teeth then you do have to concentrate on eating a bit more than the rest of us. Anyway, he was never much of a social creature, was Wicked. Pleasant enough when he doesn’t get on your nerves but not the kind to go out and win friends, shall we say. Funnily enough, he is more friendly to humans than to horses. He is a loyal companion to Tregony, I must say and probably a good foil for Treggy’s particular set of brain wave patterns. But still, not the kind of chap you’d invite out for a party.
Here am I going on and I almost forgot that what I had to say was that I had really very little or nothing to say today. Some days are like that, aren’t they?
Saturday 27th September 2003
I decided, this morning to have a word with HIM to see if he could come up with any ideas for some topics to talk about, as my life in Ninefields has been so uneventful.
“Fish”, HE said.
“What?”, I replied, thinking he had shut his hand in the gate, or something.
“Fish, Alli, talk about fish. Some people find them very interesting”.
I’ve always
found it a matter of great wonder, the things that humans find interesting.
This is mainly because I have no idea what these things are. And fish are no
exception. I often see mote-motes driving along the
In the field, I have met rabbits, squirrels, deer, pheasants, rats, foxes, badgers and various named (magpies, rooks, crows, ravens, finches, robins, sparrows, pigeons) and other sundry birds.
But fish? What is a fish? Whatever they are, they are not the everyday topic of conversation amongst equines. Come to that, not even the exceptional topic, either.
“You’re being silly!”, I told him.
HE just looked at me and smiled, in a superior sort of way.
“You may be faster than me, you may eat faster than me, you are certainly bigger than me”, HE said, “but, Alli, if you don’t know what fish are, I am certainly smarter than you, my girl”.
I stopped nudging HIM for another mint, for a moment, walked
around HIM, stood very tall and looked down at HIM and whispered in his poor
little ear. “Do YOU know what the wind is telling me? Can YOU taste what the
weather is going to do tomorrow? Have YOU smelled the grass growing and heard
that horse that has just gone under
I didn’t wait for HIS pathetic reply. Taking the last mouthful of treats from HIS puny grasp, I just walked gracefully away. It doesn’t pay to let THEM get above themselves, ever!
Sunday 28th September 2003
Well, HE had some news last night, when THEY came with our
evening buckets. Apparently, just as THEY were preparing our meal, a friend,
Doreen, phoned them from
Apparently, Thomas got the car ‘jump started’ whatever that
is and managed to get there and put his battery on charge over night. I wonder
if it is something like when the humans in
I never got to see Thomas, as he had to get home early this morning to fix the car properly before going back to work, tomorrow. HE did show me this picture, though, of Thomas putting the battery back in.
Monday 29th September 2003
HE is doing a good job of telling me things to put in my diary although it is a bit funny because I then have to dictate them back to him to type up for me. I know that is all a bit complicated for you to understand. Just accept it as a sort of equine diarist sort of thing and leave it at that. Apparently HE went to something called ‘Vintage Farming Day’ yesterday. It was in two fields not to far from here and it consisted of a lot of enthusiastic chaps with an assortment of ancient farming equipment, mainly tractors but also some small engines performing various useful tasks like pumping water or generating electricity and the like. There were also some very large engines used for threshing including a couple of steam ones. But, while they were probably very interesting to the humans – ‘boy’s toys’ SHE called them, I got much more excited over the young Shire horse that HE showed me a picture of. A very handsome grey, well built and feathered. A real playmate he would be if we could have him at Ninefields. But, alas! It appears that while all the tractors were rushing up and down the fields in rows in some sort of ploughing competition, the handsome young shire had nothing to do but stand around and look pretty. I’m sure I could have found him something more interesting to do. Oh well!
I asked Tregony
about fish, last evening as we were walking up the hill for our night’s
grazing. I’ll give him his due, he turned not a hair but said, yes, he had
heard about them when he was in
Tuesday 30th September 2003
The end of the month. The end of summer. The end of the warm weather. Really, it has been a good summer, this year. I am feeling really fit and healthy and in ‘condition’ as SHE would say. The trouble is, SHE came along with that tape of HERs. You know, the one that somehow tells HER that we are too thin or too fat. Only, it never does say we are too thin. It’s biased that way. Just another excuse to cut down our food or reduce our treats. I wonder who runs that tape around THEIR tummies. I expect THEY have one that always says that THEY must have more!
HE has been in a funny mood. A bit distant, as if he is thinking of something else. I know what it is. He has told me. It’s the re-launch of HIS web site. Something to do with the fact that no one is looking at it so HE has decided to change it, to try and make it more interesting. Maybe it’s not true that nobody is looking at it but those that do are not from about here. You see, HE made it to look good for the tourists, so that they would want to come here. Full of pretty pictures of the place and some of the historical background. HE reckons the trouble was, that if locals wanted to see how nice it was around here, they have only to look out of their windows. What they didn’t need was to go and switch on a computer. So, HE’s come up with this idea of a local monthly journal within the site, with a correspondent from each of the four villages involved doing a write up together with a few news pages of things around the area. And the first edition is due to be launched tomorrow, the first of October.
The reason HE has been a bit distant is that one of HIS expected village correspondents pulled out at the last minute, so HE has had to cover that page. Then, the correspondent from another village has gone away on holiday, so HE has had to cover that page. And, finally, to cap it all, HIS computer is playing up again (after having it mended just two weeks ago) so that HE is unable to put up the proper Photo Album that he had planned, and instead has had to include the single page of photos that he had in the previous site. Poor dear. Still as we say, HE’s made a crop for HIS own quarters. I don’t know why HE can’t just come up the hill and graze with us instead of sitting at that keyboard all day. That is, after HE has typed up my diary!
