All the Icelandic horses in my field have the same bite marks, in the same place but in varying degrees of voracity.

Talktur’s are fairly bad.

He even has recent spit marks!

Klængur has been more knibbled than bitten.

The same for Iacs too.

While Haakon got off very lightly.

As usual, some are refusing to talk……

Some are definitely not in the frame.

And all fingers are pointing at the usual perp!

,

We suspect he may have had an accomplice, though.

Well, boys will be boys and their spring coat will soon be arriving so let’s hope it covers up the unsightly bite marks.

Playing means they are happy.  There are no actual I-am-going-to-kill-you bite marks and for two stallions, 2 yearling colts and 4 geldings all living together throughout winter, that is not bad going.

This morning, I received a Facebook message saying “I will come up tomorrow to ride Taktur at 12, if that’s ok.”

So I slowly got up, as is my morning régime, and Daisy kindly went to fetch Taktur for me – he was miles away eating with his friends.

For some reason that Facebook message translated itself in my head as firstly Taktur’s trainer was arriving at 11am and today was tomorrow.

So Daisy and I waited with Taktur for a while. Daisy did some brushing, while I took endless photos of silly things.

She even picked his feet out.  Bless his little cottons, Taktur offered and lifted each hoof as she went round.

We didn’t even bother to tie our ravaging stallion up.

I was beginning to become disgruntled at the non-appearance of Taktur’s trainer so I went back inside to check my messages on the computer – this is BeAnne’s disgruntled face, btw.

I returned a few minutes later from the house and admitted rather sheepishly that I had just found that I had got the wrong time and worse, the wrong day completely.  Daisy and Taktur looked at each other, discussed it and diagnosed my slow descent into senile dementia.

Anywho, since I had him, I thought it best to give Taktur his daily grub and the Chicken Wars began.

I hates them pesky birds.  I throw them some corn a little way away and hope they will eat it and forget about Taktur’s food.

But I could see them discussing it and the War began.

I have a new weapon now – BeAnne.  She is good.  If you say “boof the chicken” – she will put her nose up its bottom and chase it away from Taktur’s food.

On a positive, though, at least Taktur will never be frightened of flappy birds.  He is very used to them.

Meanwhile, as it was such a beautiful day, someone was discovered busy sunbathing fatly in the spring sunshine.  Methinks that one wintered well.  How my horses suffer.

I watched Daisy riding this afternoon and my heart said “I want to do that”, though perhaps at a slower speed.

Then my brain stepped in and said “you hurt too much, stop it.”  Haakon’s lost a shoe anyway. It is not fair to ride him out with only half his fronts on.  He gets very uneven and trippy.

So Daisy and I fed the boys currant buns instead.  I had some old ones that needed eating.  Little ears were pricked at the thought.

Indy is particular keen on a bun.

Klængur has beautiful manners, of course.  Ever the gentleman.

Iacs happily discovered the wonders of a currant bun with his mouth already full.  Badly brought up with no table manners by his mother, imho, and that would be Daisy I am pointing my finger at.

Hammy was shovelling it in.

Iacs came back for seconds (even ruder).

He managed to get more out of Daisy by doing his silly frilly face!  Her heart always melts.

The bebbies thought buns weren’t bad either.

But Hammy was like the naughty school kid trying to get himself into both ends of the annual school photograph.  He ran round to the other end and demanded more buns.

We had four and had divided them up into half each with a few crumbs for the Hoover.

There was some mugging involved too.

But we’d run out of buns so they got their noses tickled instead.

WARNING, WARNING – PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS – A VERY SELF-INDULGENT POST!

I am very tired *** sigh ***.  I need immense strength just to stay upright today and I don’t seem to be able find it.  Everything, even the smallest thing, is a chore.  A huge ginormous hurting chore.

My two mile walk was hell.  A beautiful day with beautiful views and I struggled. I struggled to see any beauty. I have given up bending down because I couldn’t get back up and that scared me so I am looking upwards now.

The island in the photo is Foula, btw, not Fair Isle, though I did once tell a gullible tourist it was Manhattan.  I think it was after they had asked where Icelandic horses came from. 

I even met a sheep.  We scrutinised each other closely but the conversation was somewhat lacking.

I took a photo of my shadow because I thought I looked like one of The Beatles in the Yellow Submarine with my long legs.

And the similarity ends there.  All I don’t need is Love.  All I need is my back and legs to work again.  I am very fed up.  Today, I have run out of steam.  I sent off my ranting email to the NHS – nothing will change and I doubt anything will be done.  They (the NHS) don’t understand.  Not like Klængur does.

I am sorry for the depressing post today.  I think it is a result of actually writing everything down and seeing just how ridiculous my life looks from the outside.

Once the girls go back, I am going to concentrate on my pre-op diet.  Like BeAnne, I only have to look at an éclair….!

Someone kick me up the arse – I’ll start looking for worms to eat next!

Nowadays, I have to drink everything lying down flat and, this morning, my Santie beaker sprung a leak so OH was instructed, on his travels to Lerwick, to buy me a new one.

He came back with this. I am not sure if it is a subliminal message from the Gods, or just my OH making a subtle statement.  It is fairly descriptive of the way I feel these days.

This afternoon, I fired off an email to the NHS voicing my opinion of the last 5 months.  Actually, it made me see the whole miserable affair for what it is.  I didn’t want the email to be a rant (I’m good at those) so OH is checking it over and turning it into succinct English.

Happy thoughts, I need a happy thought.  Here is one I prepared earlier.

My legs are almost 100% defunct.  I struggle with every day tasks.  On the dog walk, we climbed to the top of the hill, to admire the view – always breathtaking.  Nowadays, I only take all the dogs out for a walk when OH is away from home. The clock ticks with how much “upright time” I have.

The little things continue to fascinate me.

The dogs pottered along with me and had fun.  When I am in the hill, I don’t go far in case I can’t get back but we probably stay out for an hour so they can enjoy themselves and I can play with  my camera.

The horses share their silage nicely.  I do love them so much for this. I really could not be doing with a fight every day, injury from arguments and just general bad feeling.  We have none.  They are real friends.

So it started to hail.

A picture of  Bozz-Bozz-butt fur with hail bits in it.  Woof!

These things stop me being an Angry Bird!