Hovis’ Friday diary: ‘this idea has more legs than a caterpillar convention’
Dear diary,
Ok, fess up? Who has pi$$ed her off again? And no, I don’t mean mother – I am all too aware that someone breathing in her vicinity at the moment is pi$$ing her off due to her inability to lift, bend, twist, drive or generally do anything that in her view would make her a useful human being so thus, she is a bad tempered witch. No, I mean who has upset Mother Nature again? Did you all learn nothing from last year? If you recall, we had a prolonged period where she was so foul tempered, I had to lead a national campaign to sacrifice sh*tlands to appease her. Now to be fair, I’m all for sacrificing small annoying ankle biters but I do worry if we’ve entered another period of her being hormonal, we may be running a tad short of sacrifices. Personally I have no issue with the next port of call being small ginger Welsh things, but I am aware that small people such as mini-mother may take exception to this idea.
In light of this, can someone please apologise for whatever you’ve done, not done, said or indeed not said (she is a woman, I am a man – I am well aware that there are thus a million and one ways this upset could have been caused, so let’s cover all bases here, eh peoples?). It’s only November and currently my field resembles the aftermath of the Battle of the Somme. We have been kept inside several days this week because the fields were so waterlogged we needed a life guard on duty, and the ginger ninja’s new arm bands haven’t arrived yet.
Luckily we are due to move to our winter fields this weekend, but since we are on clay soil, they too will swiftly become mud baths if this rain continues. Winter is suddenly looking longer than mother’s face is currently and about as attractive. Many of the humans at the yard are already muttering mutinously about new hobbies that don’t involve trying to push wheelbarrows through mud thicker than a TOWIE cast member, nor having to hose off legs so regularly we are thinking of installing a car wash style brushes system on the car park so we all just walk through it on the way back from the fields.
The mothership worries about me having to stay in (which is why she injected my legs with super slime), but equally worries about me going out in the mud, standing up to my eyeballs in it eating hay and then pacing about in it. To be fair, worrying is mother’s default setting when it comes to me, but on this she does have a point. I am therefore pondering on suggesting a relocation to foreign climes for the winter months? Do any of you live abroad and could I come and stay for with you? I’m sure mother could pay you for my upkeep and you would have the pleasure of the company of an equine superstar? I’d leave the pint-sized pain in the posterior to take his chances with a snorkel and slippers back in Blighty as mini-mother does actually like to ride in winter, but since the newly made bionic woman is not allowed to ride for at least six months, I think this idea has more legs than a caterpillar convention.
I’m off to buy some suncream for my snoozel, pack my suitcase and await the offers to come flooding in faster than my field is currently flooding.
Laters,
A hopeful Hovis
PS: Theres only five more days to go on the raffle to win a mini version of me (hand-made by the brilliant Helen Nielson – The Crafty Civil Servant), with all proceeds going to Bransby Horses. Mum is really wanting to get the number to £1,000 and by all accounts we are so nearly there so please, please do buy a ticket. It’s only £1 and the money will do so much good.
PPS: Don’t also forget my new book Hovis’ Friday Diary: What’s the Story Medal Glory? which is obviously a) hilarious b) a great gift for anyone horsey or indeed with a sense of humour and c) sold with 100% of the money going to Bransby Horses. Kissmuss is coming, so put me under your tree x
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