The old men drove me crazy with their constant begging and generally getting in the way. They followed me everywhere.  Where are you going?  Who are you feeding?  Are you feeding us?  Is there any more?

In my head, I thought it was nice to have the lads around the house.  How wrong could I be.  After two full wheelbarrows of poo (are they shitting for the Olympics?), I threw them into a small paddock that has a shed.

They instantly took up residence.

And even managed to argue about it . Haakon won, obviously as he is the older of the two.  They are cousins and close friends so arguments are kept to the minimum.

With a good fence around them, the boys make better neighbours than actual family.

The others mooched about on the periphery.

This I can live with.  Begging at my front door, I cannot.

There.  I’ve said it.  Shoot me now but shovelling up two wheelbarrows a day for two horses is killing me.

It has been raining all day.  Haakon is already on Rug No 2.  This afternoon, both he and Iacs had taken themselves away from the herd to stand by the gate looking mournful, if hopeful.  I quickly got the message.

So I let them in to graze around the house plus opened the stable as well because I am nice like that.

They quickly polished off the hay in the stable and then came outside to eat the long grass around the house (which is usually the sheep’s prerogative).

Haakon seemed much happier, now he had what he wanted.

That would be my undivided attention and a supply of treats.

He may be old but he and Iacs still remember the routine.  Knock on the front door and see who answers.

There was a queue and I am a mug!

I am busy doing feet at the minute.  Two or three ponies a day, depending on how my back stands up to the bending and rasping. The Painpod is a god-send.  It really is and I wack it up to full volume and can keep on top of the hooves at the moment.

(Not helping for a photo – thank you, Storm)

(Still not helping – aww, good boys, Albie and Newt)

And now, we’re three good little boys!

After rasping the hooves, I take what’s left of my farrier bag and use it to keep my bottom dry while I sit down in the field for a while.  I wait to see who wants to chat.

It is always a bit of a guessing game as to who comes up to talk.

Every day is different and I don’t make anyone if they don’t want.  That would be rude.  Newt took his time but ended in my face!

Albie, of course, wanted me to himself.

To be loved by a Minion is a truly wondrous gift.

As the three ladies are at Leradale – about 2 miles away – we visit them daily. I hate my horses being away from home but sadly it is a necessity.

At the moment, we are bringing a very small amount of food as part of Sóley’s early foundation training (and also we have a bag of Mare and Foal to finish).

Sóley has to have a headcollar put on (sorry, no photos) in the field, which is a big training step and one we don’t usually try to achieve so early.  She will be having her hooves trimmed shortly and I need to catch her in the field without fuss or worry.

Sóley is a good girl and, with the help of bowl of calories, very amenable to this part of her learning.

Hetja is also very keen on the food we bring, though she does not need it.  She has her own small bowl of “Mare and Foal” which she quickly hoovers up, not even coming up for breath, and then moves quickly onto her daughter’s bowl to polish it off.

Having filled up their water buckets (which Lilja insists on dancing dance about in) and kissed their collective noseys, we leave our beautiful Icelandic ladies to their field full of grass.  There is also other water about but I just think a nursing mother needs all the fresh water she can get.  I remember what it was like.

So all is good in their world.

This afternoon Daisy and I drove over to the east side of the island. She had not met Festus and Ulysses, my friend’s miniature Shetland pony foals, found by me and bought a few weeks’ back  – https://myshetland.co.uk/i-was-tasked/

Naturally Daisy was enchanted.

I mean what is not to love?  Best kissing on the east side (Tiddles is on the west side).

Little Shetland pony foals coming over to chat is possibly the best way to spend an afternoon…… ever.

I am so glad they have such a loving and perfect home.  No Shetland pony could ask for more.  I know eight that would move in like a shot given half a chance.

And I also know that these two will grow into fine little chaps as they have the world.  So many don’t and that is a sad fact of life.

Anywho, after attending the Miniature Shetland Pony Appreciation Society, of which I am a fully paid up member, we went inside to eat a lovely homemade lemon polenta cake with a cup of tea.

I ate it to be polite.

The struggle is real.

My idea of a perfect afternoon, really.  It don’t get no better than this.