This morning, lying in bed, about to enjoy my first cup of tea, Bjørn, my family’s Icelandic horse trainer and the owner of Bergli Stud, asked me to give him a hand with his ponies.

So, do I lie in bed, say no and just do nothing much all day?  Nope. I leapt out of bed (as apparently you can’t help in pyjamas) and kicked my arse into gear.

Taking my van, because I love driving it, we chatted all morning, with Bjørn telling me when to turn right or left – I would’ve just automatically taken him to Tesco’s or the airport!

First, we had to deliver a stallion back to The Boys Field.  This beautiful little silver dapple stallion, Tactic, is all mouth and trousers – small but bossy – and wow, can he move.

I stood with some of the stallions, making friends and taking photos.  I find the boys much easier than girls.  Black and white – that is how they think.

Afterwards, it was off to Burra (an island connected to Shetland “mainland” by bridges).)

Here, we were putting more water out as all the regular streams have run dry.  We have had no real rainfall for a month and everywhere is rapidly drying up.

All the mares are out with their stallions and watching their communication is very interesting.  I could sit and look at them all day.

This is Cantilena.  She is my replacement Fivla (who is leased out to a family.)  I miss Fivla. She has always been very special and, even better, a good friend but Cantilena is a darling.

So, basically, today has been spent taking photos of someone else’s ponies.  Bergli ponies are very nice to work with.

Always a pleasure – never a chore.

Today was my afternoon for packing vegetables for Transition Turriefield.

En route, I visited my out-lying horses and ponies.  All seemed well.  I even managed to lead Iacs, Klaengur, Waffle and Silver to drink through the newly opened gate to the loch.

Of course that old saying “you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink” was very precise so I have no idea where the boys were finding their water before in Fat Camp as absolutely no one was thirsty.

Ungrateful lot. Why I bother and whoever is leaving the gate open to the next-door park must stop.  Suddenly this has happened.  Funny that.

BeAnne came with me, as per usual. I have had to start her training again as she refuses to listen to a word I say.  This is not deafness, this is purposeful terrier belligerence and she is driving me mad.

Anyway, I had very nice afternoon packing vegetables. I was working the sealing machine, which makes me feel I am playing shops (my best childhood game).  A dream come true for me.

Afterwards, I went round the croft with my camera looking into its numerous polytunnels.

On my way home, I saw this sheep doing what it always does every year – wading into the loch to eat the flowering Bogbean (menyanthes trifoliata).  That is the sort of thing Lambie would do!  I have never seen this anywhere but this loch.  Most strange but then sheep are, I have discovered.

Tweet, the carrion crow, who I left with my mother to look after, has a confirmed broken wing.  I am not sure what his future is but will try and find out.  I am very sad about this.  We tried so hard.

Gee but it’s great to be back home
Home is where I want to be.

So, after a day-late flute lesson, where I duly murdered Mozart, plus an NHS appointment, I went to see everyone.

Delia is fine – I do need to brush her.

Storm is less fine – he has a pale-and-interesting cough.  Just one cough, nothing exotic but a cough, nonetheless. I am considering taking him to the vet or waiting a few more days and putting it down to “a viral infection” (said with an Australian accent).

But Storm looks fine, and is 100% in every other way so I don’t know.

Tiddles seems to have got fatter and he needs a good brush too.

Lyra was very pleased to see me and followed me everywhere.  She has changed so much these past few months.

Darling Hjalti has grown (yes, in four days).  He is a wonderful boy.  So like his mother to look at with his father’s wonderful temperament.

It was a hot afternoon and the dogs had a paddle while I was checking on everyone.

BeAnne is furious with me and has become The World’s Worst Dog.  We are both sulking at each other.

I visited Fat Camp and, I have to say, everyone is looking so much better.

It is good to see.

I will stop worrying about these four guys now.

At home, Brá is a happy mother.

Hetja is a very good god-mother too.

Efstur is still wonderful.  All legs and a darling boy.

This is where I belong.  Not south, not with people, but in Shetland, with my animals.  This is home.  I hope it always will be.

On Saturday, I went to the Land of Trees – Berkshire to see my mother and for a family lunch.

The weather was lovely and I spent many hours taking photos of their fabulous roses.

There were nesting blue tits – always pretty and I had to be very fast to catch them on my camera.

Can someone please tell me what this bird is? I would say it was medium sized.

Mum has a very gorgeous Patterdale Terrier called Pip – a worthy contendor for any hairy Patterdale admirer.

Some might call Pip “a character” but there is not a mean bone in his body.  Totally affable and a glass half-full kind of chap who worships my mother.

The family house is surrounded by Downshire Golf Course. It is beautifully landscaped and well looked after.

Mum is allowed to walk her dog first thing in the morning before the golfers arrive.

So we went out at 07:00 with Pip and she showed me a black coloured bird that had been sitting on its own in the rough for a few days.

Of course, being me I had to go up to the bird, pick it up, have a quick look (finding no obvious)broken bones).  However, I could see this bird was dying.

En route home, I dunked him head first in the pond and it gratefully drank.  Apparently it is a carrion crow and I think it recently left the nest and somehow hurt one of its’ legs – it hops ok and then goes splat.

I spent the day feeding Tweet (name), or Crow-Thorne (Sunday name), with worms and then we moved onto beef mince and hard boiled egg.  Tweet opens the beak, doesn’t snap and doesn’t do that awful panicky flapping thing – I am not a bird person at all but it is easy to feed and to work with.  The cage, its night-time home is safe from any visiting foxes.  I made a larger run from random dog cage sides, string and bamboo for a perch.

We will see.  There is a corvid rescue centre down the road and if it all gets too much for Mum, she will take the bird there.  I so wanted to bring it back to Shetland but couldn’t work out the logistics.

Anyway, home now in Shetland and everyone was very pleased to see me.

(sorry, no photos)

I am too hot to think or write anything.

I arrived safely after many hours travelling, waiting and more travelling.

Tonight I am staying with my sister in south London and all I can hear are distant aeroplanes  constant traffic and ambulance sirens. There is faint birdsong but I couldn’t tell you who they are.

Tomorrow, bright and early, we go to see my mother in the Home Counties.  The weather forecast says it will be between 20-24 degrees.

I think I will sit in the sink pouring cold water over myself.