I have fairies at the bottom of my garden.

Well, that actually might be a typo.  I have furries at the bottom of my garden!

Today I moved everyone.

Old Men into the hill park (field – we call them parks).

Yes, we do!

And Shetlands into the Old Men’s field, that is already eaten down but much bigger with more shelter.

The ponies were thrilled.

Masses of galloping around, which I missed to film, but, believe me, they did move.

Until they discovered the grass factor was possibly less!

But, as Daisy keeps texting me, they are fat, they don’t need lots of grass.

Repeat after me “they are fat, they do not need lots of grass”. So they have shelter and pickings while I try not to feel guilty. I never saw the Old Men again!

‘Ster has been lame for a few days now, despite various ministrations that are supposed to help.  It is wet. He has bad hooves so it is inevitable.

But even so, I don’t like seeing him in obvious pain and not keeping up with the rest. After spraying his hooves, I suddenly remembered we had some painkillers left over from ‘Bert’s most recent misery.

I read the label, measured out the liquid oral dose and squirted it into ‘Ster’s mouth. And then I re-read the label and realised I had over-dosed him by a considerable amount.  I hadn’t read the next line that said 3ml rather than the 100ml I had given him.

Shit, shit, shit.

I ran inside to phone the vet.  After a brief conversation where she said Ster would have to come in, have a drip put up, and hope his kidneys/liver didn’t collapse, she asked if I had really given him the whole bottle. I said no. Just a bit of the enclosed syringe and so with that, I ran back to the stable for the syringe and found the 100 actually referred to 100kg, so I had given ‘Ster a bit over double the dose required.  He is a hefty 40kg.  The syringe measured in kg and not ml.  So sort of phew!

So back on the phone to the vet and we decided the best course of action was just let ‘Ster go outside (I had him in a tiny paddock by now, watching him like a hawk) to have his normal day and he would most likely be ok.

And that is what I did having also left my rubber boot in the mud.

And then the car started making a “funny noise” – juddering when braking and a silly, if worrying, squeak!

Anything else?  Bring it on. Bad luck comes in threes.

Some sweet bebbie photos!

Ster is fine.

My morning was spent with my most favourite of favourites….. Lambie who had barged into the stable while I was sorting out Albie and Storm for the morning.

I asked him what the thought he was doing.

So he then got stuck!

Oh Lambie *** sigh ***.

He wandered about investigating and sniffing things out.

Yes, Lambie, you did.

Meanwhile the boys were having their separate breakfasts. Storm has taken up that well-known, but miserable, sport of bullying Albie.

Someone is feeling better then.

‘Bert thought he would come inside too. So I quickly shut the door.

Sorry, ‘Bert, no more sheep.  One is bad enough.

And then Lambie found what he was looking for – my hay bales – so he had a casual snack while I prayed he didn’t pee.

Finally, I had everything as I wanted it ready for the day, the dividing gate put back and Storm went back to sharing (yes, nicely sharing) the soaked hay with Albie.

And of course I had my best little helper in the whole universe.  Pepper is always with me, even when she isn’t!

All done and I turfed Lambie out much to his disgust.  He had been enjoying himself hugely and, to be fair, he didn’t pee, which is always a good way to start the day.

I was even rewarded with a lovely Winning Smile when I put the flock into their chosen field.

Thank you, Lambie, for your “help”.

Every morning, when OH takes the dogs out for a walk, I have the house to myself and I play the piano.  I have played since I was very young (4) and it is my relaxation, when I switch off. Mostly I sight read because that is what I like doing most (and I have the brain of a hen so I never remember if I have played it before or not!)

And then Monster arrived.

And it instantly became very difficult to play properly.

There was also the accompanying very noisy protest.  Some might say “singing”. I wouldn’t. He howled for attention.

And I can’t really play the piano when someone is glaring at me.

From every angle!

So I told Monster to go busy himself with something else and he clambered onto the top of the piano.

I will admit that Monster looks very pretty with the flower arrangement and I’ve had some fun putting filters on the photos to see if it made the White Panther look more picturesque.

Ok, he has a certain charm.

Until he came back to glare at me some more. I gave up and made myself a cup of coffee and then the dogs rushed back in covered in mud and the house went back to normal!

A beautiful sunrise this morning (07.42 to be precise).  I was up and at ’em.

The little boys seem a lot happier. They are “back to normal”, well, what is normal for them.  I am relieved and will resign myself that they must stay in longer, at least until the farrier comes at the beginning of next month.

Obsessed with feet now, I decided to pick out and clean everyone’s hooves. It is not something I do regularly.

And then I went back and cut everyone’s tails too.  The Icelandics’ were very long and I hadn’t noticed. Poor Klængur got the equivalent of “a pudding bowl cut” from his mother.  It is a bit short but it will grow out (she now types hopefully!)

When I picked out Iacs’ hooves, a slug fell out. I think I removed his brain then.

The boys were “helpful” and everyone was done quickly and without the need of a headcollar.

Poor Bibble. I hope he’s not lonely without his slug-friend.