Englandshire is full.  Absolutely full.  So many people, so many cars but so little space.

We went out this morning. I drove Mum’s car and all I could think was thank God I learned to drive (over 30+ years ago) in central London because I doubt I would have the nerve, to be honest.  But drive I did, which is always a bit of a worry for me and all my London driving skills came back.  My father always said I drove like a London black cab, which I took as a compliment at the time, though I don’t think he meant it like that.

So Mum and I did our messages and I drove home with a huge sigh of relief. We have spent the rest of the morning sitting in grateful peace in the garden enjoying the sheer beauty of it all.

In the afternoon, I showed Mum how I make my needle-felted sheep out of Shetland wool. Yes, I had stuffed my suitcase with six bags of wool, my selection of needles and sponge pads.  Mum is a sculptor and wants to have a shot at making needle felted Shetland ponies. So she watched me make a sheep and I tried to explain the technicalities of the whole process.

I am looking forward to seeing what will be created tomorrow.  At least it won’t be a sheep, which I will go on making this week so I have some stock to take to the shop when I return.

I got up at God knows what o’clock and drove in thick fog to the airport.

Luckily the last flight the night before that flew in was my flight out to Aberdeen.  A few hours break there and then onwards to Heathrow, a taxi journey and I arrived at my Mum’s house.  I think few flights were getting in and out of Shetland for the rest of the day so I was lucky.

I am now exhausted and about to go to sleep so forgive me if I keep this brief.

The garden is beautiful.

Teddy is in good form, as ever and the apple of my mother’s eye! He has a look of Her Maj at times.  Just a glimpse.  Out of the corner of my eye I see her.

And so to bed. I’ve been awake far too long.

I am flying south (fog-willing – we have been fogbound most of the day here) to spend a week with my mother in the Home Counties.

So I went round saying my goodbyes to all my horses and ponies.  I leave at the crack of sparrows (05:00) tomorrow and take two flights, changing at Aberdeen for Heathrow.

I shall miss my chaps and chapesses but it will be lovely to spend time with my mother.

I know Sóley will change in just a week  Her baby foal fluff is falling out now and she is much darker underneath. I will have to convince my daughters to take photos for me so I can keep up-to-date.

Sóley has already grown two front teefs which she is very proud of.

And quite right too.  She is a very beautiful little filly.

Lilja is looking pretty fantastic too.  She was wandering about looking moody in the mysterious foggy light.  She is still very taken with Sóley who divides her time equally between her sister and her mother with lots of lovely cantering in between up and down the hills.  It is delightful to watch and of course I never have the camera.

So that’s me all ironed and packed getting ready for the Big Smoke and the Big Heat.  It is very hot south – about double what it is here.  I am not a fan of being hot so will complain bitterly.  I have told everyone I will miss them.  I imagine taking Haakon with me on the journey and unpacking him for my mother to meet.  She would get a surprise!

My little bear is full of beans at the moment.  Aged 13, she rules us with her paw of iron.

But Her Maj’s enthusiasm for life, or more realistically getting us to do what she wants, keeps her young and happy.

We are all, of course, her willing slaves.  She is our everything.

This is the steeley Patterdale terrier Look of Determination.  Ignore it at your cost.

And this is Lambie’s version thereof.

With added Wininng Smile as he runs to the owner of the packet of Ginger Nuts.

‘Bert is still having horn issues and is refusing to talk to anyone much.

Meanwhile, we are sitting en famille at the ever disintegrating and shrinking picnic table (the sheep are methodically eating their way through it having finished an old front door) watching the Icelandic horses annoy BeAnne.

It is a never-ending sport. They hang their heads over the fence, we shout “watch them BeAnne” and she rushes off in full rage to bite errant noseys which have quickly been withdrawn to the safety of behind the fence

The horses know exactly what they are doing.  They have been taunting BeAnne for years.  They love it. She loves it.

This is an ancient and thoroughly enjoyable sport.  One day she tells herself, just one day!

We ❤️ BeAnne Duvet Soufflé Princess Chantelle Shaznay du Mezzanine.  Indeed we do.

Yesterday, we made the decision to move Brá to another herd.  Despite our best efforts, every day she has managed to get her grazing muzzle off and so, when I was offered the chance of a Diet Field with fellow inmates, I jumped at it and quickly shoved Brá in it.

The field is at Turriefield (the veg place where I work on a Thursday) and the present residents consist of the luscious Harvey, a stunning working gypsy cob gelding and his companion, Kolka, an Icelandic horse mare.

Harvey is a real dude.  We ❤️ him and now this gives me a good excuse to go in his field to take photos.  Brá will be checked every day so she does not go feral (she would love to be) and remain easily caught.

And yes, there was some initial running around but they quickly settled and the lack of grazing is a must for Brá. It will keep any sign of laminitis at bay until the winter when she can shiver off her fat in a poor park with Hetja.  Well, that is the plan anyway.

After the initial introductions, Brá quickly made friends with Kolka and they are now besties.

Poor Harvey has that look of one who wants a polyamourous relationship without hassle or nagging from his once only girlfriend and her best (if a tad fat) friend.

Good luck with that one, Harvey.   Interestingly enough, after the nightly check, I noticed Harvey was sporting a perfectly formed hoof print on his perfectly formed apple-shaped bottom!