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the fence, we shout “watch them BeAnne” and she rushes off in full rage to bite errant noseys which have quickly been withdrawn to the safety of behind the fence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!

I noticed a gap in the fence of the Minions’ field which two small ponies have been using to nip into the next field (luckily mine) to graze.  I saw them do it and thought to myself I must bring some wood, nails and a hammer.

So I asked my OH instead!

We walked down to the spot that needed fixing whereupon we had to be duly investigated (that would be Perpetrator No 1 at the front).

OH was brilliant and got well in there.

He has had much practiced at this.

I stayed on the other side offering words of encouragement and nails.

We were watched.

The first two on the left (Waffle and Storm) are The Ones who were doing the nipping.  They know I know.

Because I told them I know.

And they didn’t care.

Making the most OH, his tools and his skills, I noticed there was another small line of fencing to reinforce.

I did laugh when I saw the Minions.  This is so typical of Shetland ponies.  Nothing is safe.

I had to fight the plank off Waffle who was like a dog with it.

So with fence bodged and hopefully fully functional, I went and picked ragwort stupidly leaving my coat to be danced upon.

It was trampled, totally trampled.  Obviously I then upturned it, sat down and had a lovely chat/hug with the Minions. Silly not to really.  They were in a very silly-billy mood.

Every morning we go armed with the muzzle into the  field to be greeted by my Prime Suspect, aka Lilja.

Lilja:  Hello, have you come to see me?
Hoomans:  No.

Lilja:  Yes you have. You know you have. I know you’ve brought me carrots and why are you carrying that funny thing?

Hetja:  Over to you Brá
Brá:  Oh no, not again.  Why are they so persistent?

Brá: Oh, fer cryin’ out loud.  They’ve added more bits.

Brá: Who are you calling fat? I don’t need this.
Hooman: Yes, you do.  Get used to it.

Lilja:  Don’t worry, Brá, I will help you take it off the minute the hoomans have gone.
Brá:  Thank goodness.
Hoomans (aka Me now hopping and down, apoplectic with fury):  Don’t you bloody dare!

Over in the corner, Hetja is playing safe by sensibly not getting involved.

Sóley the Foalie has got up from her little sleep.

She is recharged and ready for her day which is mostly spent far away with her mother, following devotedly Lilja everywhere.

She is a very inquisitive little person with more curiousity than fear.

Everyone is her friend, because everyone is Lilja’s friend.

I think Lilja is (mostly) an excellent role model.

Anyway, the muzzle should be off and back home by 22:00 when Flossie kindly does the last check before bed.  It has become our routine……. *** sigh ***.

I am running around like a blue-arsed fly today.  The morning was spent waiting to meet potential Minion visitors and the afternoon preparing a meal for some friends who are coming for supper.

It was lovely to see the Minions and to introduce them to new fans.  They all behaved impeccably – both visitors and Minions

Silver was very keen to meet and greet.  He put on his best Winning Smile and made new friends.

At the end of the visit, I usually ask “if you could, which Minion would you take home with you in your suitcase?”

Many choose Newt though Silver and Albie were definitely considered today. You never can tell.

It is a different pony each time who wants to chat.

Meanwhile, chez nous, ‘Bert is still very upset about his horn situation. If he would come nearer, I could grab it but he will have none of it.  He knows this and I know it too.

Lambie has finally got over himself which is lucky because I am fed up of talking him down.  Some might say indulging.  Anyway, I have had enough and was quite business like about telling him to stay in his field like a “normal sheep”.  He has no idea what that is.

So, that’s me.  Vaguely cleaning, preparing, cooking and getting ready.  The kitchen is too hot, everything is now ready an hour early and drying up nicely to probably be inedible!  Ho hum. I bought some nice wine and as the checkout lady in Tesco said “it will cover up the food if it is revolting!”