Friday, 1 July 2011


Well, yesterday was farrier day. I thought I'd get some nice photos of The Girls but they had other thoughts. The Girls are very friendly and this makes taking their photo very difficult. They see me ages before I get to the field and come galloping down to the gate so snapping them as they go about their business is a non-starter. Then when I'm within reach they like a bit of mutual grooming so get too close to the camera.
Whenever I point the camera at them they try to eat it, or lick it, or mist up the lense by blowing on it. I say blowing but anyone who knows horses knows what I mean. Gentle sniffing and exhaling through their velvety nostrils as they investigate. So the outcome is that there are no photos of The Girls - yet. But the farrier visit went smoothly. To say they were good might be pushing it a bit, but they definitely weren't as naughty as they can be. And not an injury in sight!

Having registered with an Estate Agent, approved the House for Sale ad. and erected the House for Sale sign in the garden, you may be surprised to learn that I was shocked when I got a viewer. I know that a viewer is a long way off a buyer but still, who would have thought it? Here I am, trundling along with a distant dream in mind when suddenly there is a reminder that this might actually happen. There is a chance that my blog might end up as more flash fiction than a novel! Unlikely though, I don't think the viewers were that interested although they were taken with the hot-tub. Given the tiniest bit of encouragement I reckon they'd have been in there. Try before you buy sort of thing. They rolled up their sleeves and stuck their arms in and made lots of appreciative noises. I herded them back inside before they got carried away.
My hot-tub is another thing that I love. A couple of years ago my mate P and I went up to the Scottish Deer Centre in Cupar, Fife.We planned an overnight stay at a B&B as I couldn't do the whole journey in one go. At the time I could only travel for half an hour or so before suffering horrible back pain, but in our wisdom we pushed on only to find that I was totally ceased and unable to get out of the car.Having finally separated me from the passenger seat, I was in severe pain and seemed to have developed Tourette's Syndrome. Our B&B hosts were wonderful, Mr B&B having undergone back surgery himself, suggested that I would benefit from using their hot tub. So we found ourselves outside on a clear, frosty March night in a hot tub. Surrounded by cold sharp silence and coloured lanterns we floated in the hot water and watched the stars. It was almost miraculous. For the first time in eighteen months I was free from severe pain. And that freedom persisted the following day. We had taken a wheelchair to the Deer Centre, anticipating my usual mobility restrictions and we didn't have to use it.I may not have been sprinting between the different animals and birds but we managed without the chair. We had a wonderful time and even got a private display of the birds of prey from the very knowledgeable handler.

Later that year we had another go in a hot-tub when we hired a Spa for P's birthday.There was an interesting moment when we were in the swim spa and P said 'I wonder what this button does' as she pressed it. I was a little startled to find myself torpedoed the whole length of the pool by the equivalent of a water cannon. When I was able to see, hear and breathe again I suggested to P that she stop laughing and think about what she'd done. I regret to say that I saw no sign of remorse. But I digress, back to the hot-tub. Again, it was so therapeutic and liberating that I decided I wanted one. So a couple of years down the line I was very lucky to be able to buy an ex-demo model.It has reduced my need for strong pain killers by half, which is fabulous. I can even remember some things and have the occasional coherent conversation! Now my pals always arrive armed with swimming cozzies and we decamp to the hot-tub. Funny, I seem to get lots of visitors these days...

No comments:

Post a Comment