The other day, I gave Vitamin a prod and could feel ribs.  Not good.  So I asked Daisy to have a look, as I value her opinion too.  She agreed that Vitamin was looking a bit thin and could do with a daily feed.  She devised a feeding plan and also mentioned that Delia was being fed daily when she was the same age.

Vitamin did not need asking twice!

She spied the bucket and cantered up leaving everyone else way behind.

In the field is a little passage-way fenced off (probably created for catching sheep in by the previous owner) so it is an ideal area to let Vitamin eat in peace.

Fivla was insensed.

I have never seen her so outraged. She could not believe this.

The others were fairly laid back about this obvious favouritism.

A nose-kissey was sufficient, and of course a carrot!

But poor Fivla.  She could not get her head around this blatant unfair preferential treatment.

Vitamin ignored her.

I did talk to Fivla, and even tried to feel for a rib (she is two years younger than Vitamin) but she is keeping her weight on and tends to balloon in Summer anyway.  Sorry Fivla.

Vitamin is 27 years old, and if she needs feeding, then she will get food.  End of.

From now on, I think Vitamin will be waiting in her little area every morning for us.  She will get into her feeding routine very quickly.

Fivla will just have to remain enraged.  I might find an extra carrot for her, though.  It won’t make amends but it might shut her up.

A day away from home for me.

My job was to take my horse-van to be MOT’ed.

While the van and I were waiting, I had a stroll about, camera in hand, and went off to find another strange Shetland sight.

A beautiful old wooden boat parked in the grass, like you do.

While the garage, which is fairly new, was being built, they first began by setting this boat into a small hill. I used to often drive past it and was intrigued and a bit envious.  It looks great there.  Behind it is also one of our small airports.

Having first asked permission, it was good to see the boat close-up.

My van passed it’s MOT – Huzzah!

They also took the spare wheel from under the van (who puts them there?  Why?) and it is now living usefully and accessibly in the back of the van.  Thank you.

I went on into town, got some horse food, saw friends for a bacon sarnie and came home.  BeAnne was pleased to see me and Daisy gave me this photo that she had taken.

I needed some time out.

A grotty day.

I have been putting off and then putting off again, ad infinitum, the miserable task of going through my photos to slim them down. I take so many and want to keep very few.  Apart from taking up too much space on my Hard Drive, most of them just need to go.

One of the reasons I have been procrastinating was because it would involve Missy’s short life.  And the other was Her Maj. Still with us, but only just and it is breaking my heart.

So I gave myself a good talking to, found a bottle of Rescue Remedy and set myself the task over the next few days of sitting at my computer going through over a year’s worth of photos, deciding what to keep and what not to knowing that when BeAnne goes, I will never do this.

The Rescue Remedy is down to the last dregs and I will admit there have been many tears. In fact I am struggling to type this without crying.

When it was all too much (this was after lunch) and I needed a change of scenery, I took myself off for a walk.  Suddenly I had a little friend – Harold. He had squozed himself under the gate, much to his mother’s horror, and happily walked with me for about 1/2 an hour. I turned for home when we had gone up the road a bit, and I reckoned he should go back to his Mum (though he would’ve kept going).

Anyway, here are a few photos from around and about – more diversions. Any excuse.

4 a.m. the other morning.

Bogbean

My first orchid.

Clothie – you can see how I am currently feeling.

Squill by the roadside.  I hope the Council don’t start mowing.

Efstur.  Like Harold, always there!

I woke early to see beautiful sunshine but it quickly disappeared as the haar arrived.

A haar is a cold sea fog, a sea fret that rolls in from the sea.  It’s that time of year.  We have to wait for the haar to be burnt off by the sun and probably, just a few miles down the road, everyone is sitting in glorious sunshine.

Despite no sun, the sheep were all very hot and they want to be sheared (note-to-self – ring shearer).

These past few days, I have noticed that we seem to have been adopted by a single Faroese goose.  It lives mostly with the visiting greylag geese but today it was on its’ own and in a different field.

We used to have Faroese geese many years ago.  I rather like them so if it wants to stay, that’s fine.  I told it that – I think it is a male.

My search with my camera in the fog eventually revealed some horses.

Haakon and Iacs.

Klængur (who I later took out for a ride – he was an arse!)

And Lilja, with Sóley following – always following.

As I said, a total arse – Klængur tripped, spooked and then danced on his tippy toes all the way there and back. He even managed to spook at his own fart!

I’m still here though – well, someone’s got to finish that cake! I think I deserve it.