‘Bert (short for Lambert) and ‘Ster (short for, yes you’ve got it, Lambster) were spending a nice  morning relaxing and chewing their cud. This is always their routine.

Meanwhile Lambie, *** sigh ***dear Lambie, was mooching around nearby having an independant thought – not something we ever encourage.

You can almost feel the peace and quiet and there is the occasional burp.

Meanwhile, Lambie was yawning.  He was bored of all this tranquility.

So, as I was going over to Clothie to check the girls were still there, I let them follow me across the hill to the field.

I love seeing my sheep in the hill except they don’t look anything like hill sheep.

Not even slightly.

They might be *** cough ***, as my postman always says “looking very well”.

Obviousy Her Maj came too and I left her outside the field with the sheep.  Lambie always takes a huge interest in whatever BeAnne finds.  At times, he behaves like a dog.

Lambie would follow BeAnne around if he could.  After all, she is his “uvver-muvver”.

Horses checked, all is well and back home I go, again followed by three sheep.

Lambie did a superb scopey (a show-jumping term) jump over the ditch.

While ‘Ster threw himself across and ‘Bert walked over.

I am not sure why I take my camera really but I do it when everyone comes too.

Under the ever-watchful eye of Vitamin (wearing a rather jaunty stick in her mane today), the Minions are always looking for an opportunity to cause mischief.

They can’t help themselves.  It makes me laugh.

Nothing is safe.  Everything is investigated.

And, unless it is tied down, dismantled.

If a Minion can wear it, he will.

Today Waffle put my bag on Storm’s back.

Making sure it would stay in place.

Eventually Storm had an opinion about this.

But I think it was because Storm wanted to play with the bag himself.  He coveted it “his neighbour’s bag”.

Storm’s Cunning Plan meant that he had a lovely time throwing the bag around preferably back at Waffle.  Possible revenge for putting it on his back in the first place.

That poor bag.  It is suprisingly hard wearing.

After a while, I told the ponies to go away and find something else to do.

And of course there were more shenanigans.

Like little boys everywhere, the Minions can’t actually walk in a straight line without bothering each other (I know it looks like it).

They remind me of the boys in the school corridors pushing and shoving.

And someone always has to get their teeth out.

I am forever shouting “put him down”!

If I have a digger on my property, I make the most of it.  Basically, if it can be dug, it will be dug.

So today, having phoned our local quarry, I went to inspect sand.  The surface of our indoor riding arena is not as helpful as it might be and it has been possibly nearly 20 years since it was last resurfaced.  We dig it up fairly regularly but the time has come because, like the Sahara, it moves grain by grain out of the school if it can.

I had phoned the quarry earlier to enquire about what sand surfaces were available and was told about the Builders Sand and the Unicorn Sand.  Washed Dust was also offered as a suitable riding surface but I wanted to see it before I ordered tonnes of the stuff. I quite liked the idea of the Unicorn Sand myself.

I drove over to the quarry to examine the samples and was very saddened to find that it was not Unicorn Sand but Uniform Sand.  You can imagine my disappointment though I am not sure what I expected to see – glitter or something magical going on.  Sort of Harry Potter sand maybe.

So, I bought 18 tonnes of the stuff without glitter or magic to be delivered first thing tomorrow by lorry.

I went on into town to put more sheeple in the field.  Look, it’s now crammed.

I also noticed Shetland Handweavers (home of my real unicorn rug) had one of their beautiful rugs on display ready for Wool Week.

So that was me today.  A distinct lack of unicorns in my book.

 

No one is speaking to these three.

They did it again.  Lilja and Sóley.

When I went in for my breakfast, after feeding the sheeple and putting them out into their daytime field, I looked over to check everyone was in the right field.  These days it is second nature to me.

I remember thinking to myself that it was “interesting” that Hetja allowed Lilja and Sóley to wander so far from her and how nice that she obviously trusted Lilja with her youngest daughter but they were all in their rightful field, together.

My usual breakfast and then I went back out only to find that now Lilja and Sóley were standing the other side of the fence in my neighbour’s field again.  Oh, fer crying out loud.

Displeased, I rallied the troops (my daughters, Daisy and Flossie), my digger driver who happened to arrive to start work on a ditch, plus two friends who were coming to ride out.

So, now armed with wire cutters and pliers, headcollars and carrots we marched out to the now-getting-rather-repetitive scene.

I caught Hetja and everyone else walked up and down the fence to see where and how they had got over.

No sign of anything.  Did they fly? My wonderful digger driver found a place in the wire fence where it had been joined together and then carefully dismantled the wire fence so we could lead Lilja over and Sóley followed.

Once over the fence, it was quickly repaired and we walked Hetja, Lilja and Sóley over to Clothie, my five acre field over the hill.  Yes, there is less food there and no, I don’t honestly care if they all starve.  For the moment, they can rot in hell!  Twice, yes twice they have done this fence flying and I am seriously dischuffed with the lot of ’em.

Meh!

 

It was a bit windy this afternoon when I went to check up on Brá (pronounced “brow” not bra!)  She is not helpful when the wind blows.

She is still living with her two friends, Harvey and Kolka.  All is good.

And, yes, I think Brá is looking a little more trim.  Just a little.  The struggle is real and I understand that.  You can’t rush these things.

I was allowed to give her a mean little carrot but when I said I wanted to clean her eyes, Brá was off.

And I never got near her again.

So I occupied my time by talking to the bootiful and luscious Harvey.

I told Brá that she could enjoy her ten-feet-away-day and I was not going to run round after her.  I didn’t really try hard.  She had that look.

Tomorrow I will bring a headcollar and all the kit needed to clean Brá’s eyes plus some ointment which will knock any gooby-eye infection quickly on the head.

To be fair, Brá is not a fan of my big camera and I am not a fan of putting it on the ground so that I can talk to her.  Big hairy feet and all that!

Anyway, taking photos of hoofy Harvey is far more gratifying.  He really is very dishy! 😍 ❤️ 😍