It began so quietly.  Everyone standing peacefully on the top of the hill, and behind but then it quickly deteriorated.

This was the Minions in the afternoon, just before the rain set in.

They were on flying form, giggling, farting and generally having a great time.  Please do not worry for Albie – he gave as good as he got and some.  He has become a proper little tough-guy.  No more the Mummy’s Boy unless he feels like it.  It makes my heart smile to see him like this.  One of the boys.  For a time, when he was a foal, I did wonder if he would really ever be like the others.  All I heard were endless stories about the dangers of orphan foals not growing up to be accepted or to learn to be like other ponies.  I just wanted to do right by him.  Anyway, I will stop worrying now.

Waffle started it.  Of that, I am sure.

Newt was quite reserved first and then he got into the spirit quickly joining the shenanigans.

I left them to their games and went back up the hill as the rain set in.

Sometimes there is no point trying to have a meaningful discussion with anyone if they are too busy sniggering.

Today, though it should’ve been yesterday really, we are remembering Jack or Little Jack(et Potato) as he was known.

Jack’s most favourite day of the whole year was when the clocks go back an hour for British Summer Time.

He loved that day.  Jack had a tummy clock that was accurate to the last nano-second.  At precisely 17:00 to the minute, he would start barking to tell you to feed him immediately!  So on the one day of the year when his supper arrived an hour early, his little face would light up and all his birthdays arrived at once.

When the clocks went back for the hour in winter, was also “Worst Day Ever” and torture not just for Jack but for us all.

Little Jack came to us in his senior years – this is his actual please-adopt-me face – from a Dog Rescue Forum (I should not look at those pages).  Upon arrival, we quickly discovered that he was a wordly runaway who had the mouth of a navvy with a bad case of Tourettes.    He was very vocal and determined and BeAnne certainly learned a lot from him.

In his very last years, Jack remained his usual determined self but he went blind.  Every day we would take him on the slowest dog walk in the world.  A friend knitted him a beautiful coat which he modelled on her Ravelry webpage – Jack’s Jacket

Dearest Jack.  We do miss him.  He was a huge character and loved by us all.  His enthusiasm for life and food, mostly food really, was immense and yesterday was for him.  Jack’s Day.

(watch the video with the sound up – you can hear him talk!)

Today is a lovely day.  My two daughters, Daisy and Flossie, looked after me beautifully.

I had a lovely lie-in (these days, I dream of them). They all did the horsey chores first thing while I snored on.  I did eventually get up at lunch-time.  My excuse is that these days my back is hurting more and more and I am finding things tough.  But seeing Haakon all well again makes everything better. I would do anything for him.

After lunch, I went for my usual walk, taking my “fur and wool children” with me.

And yes, I did get odd looks from the passers-by in their cars and on bicycle.

There were definitely some double-takes but who cares.

So that’s me, enjoying Mothering Sunday with those I love around me.  Just how it should be.

So that’s the leaflets (beautifully designed by a good dear friend ** sniff **) sent off to the printers. I’ve finally done it.  Once back, they will be distributed in all good tourist information outlets, and anywhere else that will have them.

We have a few bookings already, so once I know when we “go live” so to speak, I will get the public liability insurance paid, the chaps moved into their summer meet-n-greet field and we will be good to go.

Meanwhile we are practising being nice!

Lots of effort is being made (‘scuse the double chins – mine not Newt’s).

We are all trying out our best smiles.

Our sincere faces.

There is only One Rule.  For obvious reasons, totally and absolutely NO FOOD in any shape or form or calorie is allowed in the field.  I shall probably frisk people before they go into the field.

Anyway, I am looking forward to the Tourist Season.

As long as everyone is well-behaved, that is all I ask.

Here is a quick art-esque fart-esque photo of Fivla looking ye-olde-worlde-Shetland-ponye thinking her ancient thoughts, whatever they may be.  Probably, here we go again!

What is it with sheep and sheds?

If the Boyzenberries see a shed door open, they are in.

Some like to just eat the hay put out for Haakon and his companion for the day.

Others like to wear their food (*** sigh *** Lambie, always Lambie *** sigh ***)

Meanwhile, a certain Her Maj just sits in judgement on the whole scenario.

Lambie is finally over his fear of my shed.  He likes to come in and wanders about investigating everything.

Ever since the others arrived, he appreciates the special time he has on his own with me.  ‘Ster tends to barge everyone out of the way and ‘Bert can be annoying.

It is not all roses, however.  We did have words about eating the tassles on my tablecloth. Lambie was hypnotised and obssessed with them.

This is the cross told-off face. He left shortly after that or was he asked to leave?

In the post today a lovely pair of new Grub’s wellies arrived.  Fed up of squishing around in the mud actually inside my wellies, I ordered a pair half price in a sale I found.  Having waited a week for the boots to appear, I phoned up the company (The Internet Gardener) possibly in a rage to find that I never actually ordered them, just imagined it.  I then discovered the sale pair had also gone.  Luckily The Internet Gardener kindly offered me a huge discount and so today my feet smiled for the first time in ages.  Goodbye chilblains and trench foot, hello happy feet and thank you The Internet Gardener.