First thing this morning, I was mugged for the buckets I was carrying.

And I thought to myself that it was only Haakon and Iacs who could eat side-by-side without playing “musical buckets”, arguing or minding about the other one.  This is something the Minions are incapable of.

But Haakon and Iacs are not that kind of horse.

They have always been the best of friends – even immediately recognised each other when they met again after Iacs joined our herd a couple of years on from when I bought Haakon.

These two are cousins and Haakon is the oldest, which means he is of course entitled to dribble his food onto Iacs’ mane.  Their mothers were sisters.

They both came up for air eventually.  You can tell they are cousins.  You really can.

And yesterday Daisy spent her morning grooming them all.

They all look so much better – gorgeous and less floofy.

Kolka loved it too. Daisy said she followed her round getting in the queue waiting for her turn to be brushed.

Not looking bad, I think, either.

Note-to-self, I must do the Minions next.

Daisy’s last day and she joined us on our regular cat/dog walk.

Look at him go!

We don’t actually go very far because everyone just wants to mooch around playing in the stream….

…. or finding an island to make their own.

And then we laughed and laughed when we noticed Monster was in hunting-mode.  He obviously thought ‘Bert was smaller than he actually is and could be possible quarry.

But as ‘Bert wandered along, totally oblivious to his potential fate, …..

…. Monster realised he had made an embarrassing mistake and we promised never to mention it again.

I set off to look for Ted’s coat (he had previously lost it on another walk).

One yellow coat amongst yellow flowers in the field – I had no chance.  When I returned coatless, I found these three together.  Not something I expected.

Funny lot.

(I love Monster’s expression!)

I crossed the burn and left them to their whatever-that-was.

I have to say that I am more than slightly obssessed about all of my animals now.

My worry levels are through the roof and all I can ask myself is “what did I do wrong? What happened?”  I think they are all dead when they lie down. Obviously they aren’t but even so.

Why did this happen?  I have no answers and there was no post-mortem.  Just “One of Those Things” is what I am told.

The horses are pragmatic.  They said their goodbyes at the time, they watched what happened, walked away and never looked back or struggled with the end.  As it should be.

They have got their heads around things. I haven’t.

Eurovision was a good diverting entertainment and I made The Cake (raspberry version).

It was a fun evening for Daisy and me.  OH has nothing to do with it.  Raspberry gin shots every time anyone lay down to sing on the floor, and a shot for the word “super” during the scoring.

And I have been keeping myself busy, so I don’t think, going through stuff to sell for the huge vet and digger bill.  It is time for a good clear out, anyway.

The Minions are not happy but they are just going to have to get on with it. I have to be strong.

They have 40 acres of nothing and my aim is weight loss and no laminitis, not now, not ever again.

Last winter was hell for us all.

A few days’ back, Daisy and I moved their buckets across the wee burn (stream) so that the ponies would stop hanging around the fence and go off exploring to find food.

Today’s food had a new supplement, specifically and expensively to get them through the bad potential laminitis periods (spring and autumn).  So of course they hated it and walked away, looking in all their buckets for something better.

Tomorrow I will make their food similar to what they are used to and slowly change it with the new supplement.

Meanwhile, the old ladies live in the adjacent field.

The one with all the green grass and they are very happy, possibly gloating about their new found calories.

Yesterday afternoon, we found Lambie on his own sitting by Klængur’s grave which totally cut me up and I could barely go there.  But we had to see why Lambie was there on his own, which is normally very unusual.  Lambie ran across the field, passed me, to tell Daisy how much he missed her.

I felt very ignored and a bit bleak (I’m not going to lie).

Oh, fer cryin’ out loud, Lambie.

So Daisy led Lambie away and now he follows Daisy everywhere like a devoted woolly slave.

Can I get Lambie to even acknowledge my presence? – only on my birthday!

Devoted woolly slave.  Meh!

The words “chopped liver” spring to mind.

And then, of course, ‘Bert saw Daisy.

So all the boys wanted a hug.  The girls were the otherside of the burn eating (better things to do than be hugged).

I am not jealous. I am not jealous…… (repeat ad nauseam).  Yes, I am jealous.

Daisy can enjoy her title of “Queen of Sheep”.

Aww, ‘Bert – he does adore her.

And Harrel-the-Barrel tried to eat the toggles on her coat.  *** sigh, oh Harrel ***.  Happy to let the side down.