A friend asked me to go out and take some photos of the surrounding stormy seas.
So, having done my horsey/pony chores and suffering a bit from cabin fever, I set out in the car with my camera to the best place I knew – Dale of Walls.
The sea was boiling while the waves were amazing, crashing onto the rocks with immense furiosity
Pretty impressive, eh?
I wasn’t alone. Apparently wave photography is a national sport in Shetland.
I met two men who were off up the hill to get a better angle for their photographs. We exchanged pleasantries, agreed we were all mad, ducked when a piece of hard plastic whisked past our heads at a very dangerous level and speed, and then wished each other well for the festivities. (I do hope they got home safely).
I stayed for a little while longer and then I moved off when another car arrived. It was beginning to resemble Brighton beach!
Off to Sandness to check on the little fatty-four. They were fine and munched the carrots I threw at them, ignoring me.
And then home. Earlier, we had put everyone in together as Hjalti had managed to get in with the bigger herd (he found a crack in the fence and squozed through). We thought now was as good a time as any for them to make friends but when I arrived home, I found Hetja had leaned over the fence, ignored the new grass at hoof level and was munching her way through an illegal silage bale.
Incandescent with rage (I mean there is a fence between her and the bale which she pushed through), we herded them into the bottom field whereupon Hetja decided she hated all Shetland ponies and started attacking.
Bloody buggering mare.
I don’t like bullies. Never have, never will.
So we split them all up again. Hetja, Brá, Efstur and Hjalti are in the miserable, not-got-much-to-eat field (I honestly don’t care) whilst everyone else has everything else.
Pissed off muchly. That silage bale will probably not be recoverable.