Thank you for your kind words yesterday. I sincerely appreciate them and you lifted my spirits.  My life and the blog goes on or “Illegitimi non carborundum” or even “Noli sinere pessimi nequissimique te tristificare” if you want to be more precise.   And, yes, I did have to look that up.

Anywho, I am fine so all is well.

Today, after finishing my work, I was on horse/pony checking.  I gave the ladies their daily grub.  They have created their own routine.

Basically all line up nicely and eat as fast as possible.

Lilja is kind and lets Sóley the Foalie share her bucket.

Meanwhile, no one, and I mean no one, disturbs Hetja who does not even come up for breath.

Lilja then moves in on Sóley’s food.

They are such sweet sisters together. Never a harsh word.

Then Sóley has a go at Lilja’s bowl.  Turn and turn around.

I am off south tomorrow at the crack of sparrows to see my mother for 9 days. I booked it ages ago with the full knowledge of the family and have their blessing.  I think they probably want me out of the way for their daily fried eggs and chip suppers that they know I disapprove of.

So when I checked my horses and ponies this afternoon, I said my goodbyes. I wish I could squish Sóley into my bag.

I am on horse and pony duty at the moment though Daisy sweetly took of Haakon’s rainsheet because the sun shone – if briefly.

I did the rounds before driving into Lerwick and gave the lady-girls some hardfeed as a) we need to finish it before it goes fusty and b) they have just been through 48 hours of weather related hell.

Sóley the Foalie has very quickly learned you don’t hang about with food.  Her mother’s daughter.

And then the heavens opened and I wetly sat in the car and watched.

Next, the Minions – I threw them a bag of carrots which were gratefully received –  and then onto “The Big L” as we affectionately call it.

Sadly, Da Street looked empty.  Not good. No high street in Britain should look like this on a Saturday lunchtime.

I ate fish and chips sitting in my car and then a quick recce of the carpark showed many boats sheltering from the weather, which had calmed down by now.

Whilst getting my messages, I came upon a remarkable antique.

A Roller Organ.  A Chautauqua Roller Organ to be precise.

Oh, what can I say?  These past few days, I have been feeling down and also like giving up the blog what with everything going on around me (read Shetland mafia) but, after listening to the wonderful tunes, I left the shop with a huge smile.  Music therapy of the best kind.

(ok, it is in need of some tlc, but you can definitely hear the melody)

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.