When I was six, my father remarried a lovely lady who already had four children, a farm and two ponies!

I already knew how to ride (regular lessons) and now I could ride a pony when I visited my father in the school holidays.

Mr Wonderful and I adored him – a scruffy 13.2hh brown farm pony.

Mr Wonderful had two wall eyes (blue eyes), he was fat, always a mess and I adored him more than anyone else in the whole world.  My best friend.

I rode him every day, all day, as much as I possibly could. If I couldn’t ride him, I would take him for walks, sit in his field, just be with him, anything.

My mother was in hospital all summer around 1977, so we lived with my father and step-mother at the farm and I had a whole summer with “my” pony.

I think because I was riding every day, Mr Wonderful lost weight, which was quite an achievement.  By then, he was old, had arthritis, yearly laminitis (and lived in a calf shed all summer) and I would give him a sachet of bute before I rode him out.

When he died, I was away at school and no one dared tell me.  I had never known such instant  pain and loneliness when I found out.

Mum never met Mr Wonderful. He belonged to my step-mother but she asked an equine artist to paint him for me for a Christmas present using some of my photos.  I remember Mum at first refusing to give me the picture, saying she was embarrassed and no pony could be this ugly. When I did get it, I burst into tears and said that it was perfect and exactly what he looked like!

I have never forgotten Mr Wonderful.

It’s not the weather for anything today and also I have sciatica.

So, I will be brief mostly because I didn’t take many photos, haven’t taken any painkillers and I don’t have much to say, for a change.

Two strays turned up last night at the front door.

Monster looking rather Monster-ish.

Feeding ponies in a “moderate gale”.  Buckets were flying.

And asking Fivla if she wanted to go to bed this afternoon.  Note the sudden burst of speed at the end!

(So I’m off to find some painkillers for my sciatica.  I am not feeling much love for anything or anyone today – sorry).

Just the usual stuff today.  Breakfast for all.

This is from my après breakfast chat with Monster.  I take a photo of him every day to send to Flossie and Daisy, in case anyone is missing him from their lives.  This is today’s offering.  So very handsome.

Monster quickly took to his bed afterwards for the rest of the day. (Note-to-self, I must hoover it. I hadn’t realised, until I saw this photo, just how in hairy it is. I am ashamed).

It’s been mostly a breezy, if sunny, day and the little ones are not enjoying their enforced diet.  They can see the grass and I am sure they can smell that spring is in the air, but I have to remain firm about this slimming lark until I am told different.

Later, I took a brush out with me and gave Tiddles a bit of a brush all over.  After a while, I got bored of that (Tiddles hates being brushed) and sat down to chat with him, which was much more preferable for both of us.

He is such a love.

Saturday afternoon and it was flute duets in my shed with our audience of Pepper who was very busy willing me to find something for her to eat.  I had nothing – she’d finished everything days ago.

So she sulked while we massacred various pieces of music in a tuneful fashion.

Vitamin – or Vitamoobag as she is known around here – is 31 years old.

I spend most of my waking hours worrying about her – is she too thin? is she eating properly?  is she ok?  why is she so hungry?  Her teeth are not great and I swoosh out her mouth daily so nothing gets stuck (and she is very good about this procedure).

(photo taken from my car)

Vitamin is still a stunning mare, with so much expression which basically says “feed me, now”.  She is obssessed with food of the large bucket variety so I worry that she is not really managing to eat any grass because there is little evidence of poos around the house during the day. She would knock me down for a bucket in a determined fashion if she had to.  Fivla is a bit more restrained.  I can feel ribs on Vitamin. Less so on Fivla.  *** sigh *** I told you am neurotic.

This is the pair of them waiting for me to let them back into the big shed for their tea at 3.30 p.m. sharp, “and what sort of time do you call this?”

Monika from Sandness Equine Services is coming round to weigh everyone soon so that will give me a good indication of whether I am keeping the weight on Vitamin and Fivla, while trying to get the others to lose the kilos.  These days I am so neurotic about everything, I am not really thinking straight anymore.

My morning started with a superb rainbow over the big shed.  I shall obviously be looking at both ends for the pots of gold, though I fear that I am hardly going to find much in the feed shed.

And Lambie’s field is not really a likely place, either.

Anyway, clutching my three buckets, I went to feed the Icelandic horses.  Everyone has their own spot and Kolka eats around the corner.  But she quickly appeared having wolfed down her breakfast on a mission to steal Iacs’ food.  I said she couldn’t.  She said she could and we went on like that.

I don’t like thieves (or liars for that matter) and luckily Kolka was content to talk to me rather than pursue her ambition.

I also wanted to protect Haakon who had arrived late to his bucket and had some catching up to do.  Luckily, he had the small hoover attachment with him who “helped”.

Meanwhile Kolka worked her charm.  She does enjoy a chat.

Kolka is quite the character and rarely any trouble. However, I keep away from her back end and tell her when I am walking round her, praying to the Gods she doesn’t kick – she has form and it isn’t pretty.  But as long as she knows where I am and where I am going she is ok with me.

I think by now we’ve reached an understanding and she is not stupid.

Little Fivla was enjoying the almost-spring sunshine.

The old ladies like being around the house and try and mug me when I’m outside for extra buckets of food because basically I offer a waitress service 24/7 apparently.