Few, if any, folk ever see me ride.  It is not a pretty sight.  There are no excuses really – my feet are odd and I look like a lump but, hey ho, that’s me and, these days, that’s how I ride.

I have been described as “sack of tatties’ but I trained Haakon from the day a saddle was put on his back and we have been together for over 20 years now.

After my debacle, Daisy, who could see I was struggling, offered to have a go.   Haakon was being very pacey (or piggy pacey as we call it).

I always value Daisy’s opinion.

She knows Haakon well.

And she got him going very nicely.

I enjoy seeing Haakon being ridden by Daisy.

She has the measure of my boy.

They go very nicely together.

Meanwhile, I continue to struggle.

It is my own fault.  I have far too many bad habits.  They go way back.

What I really need is to learn to ride again.  From the beginning.  As if I know nothing.

And that ain’t gonna happen, though I do feel that, after Haakon, there will be no more riding.

The MInions will be enough – just hugging is good.  Haakon hates hugging.

Out there is a field of friends.

A friend of every type, for every occasion.

There are no rules, except perhaps for one – (Confucious says) “it is always a bad idea to roll when your best friend is sitting next to you”.

And, again because there are no rules,  it is always wise to have a bigger friend in the background looking out for you (especially when you are only 28″ high) because you just never know.

Ok, I give up on the No Rules scenario – “A substantial bottom is a happy bottom”. Iacs will vouch for this.

“Your are never alone”.

Channelling your inner Derp.

And then, in a blink of an eye, Iacs shows his noble self.  He’s got it sussed.

Darling Albie is wonderful and I am so very proud of him.   A more loving Shetland pony would be hard to find.  Not a mean bone, not a nibble, ever. I spend hours just being hugged by him and Newt.

Albie and Newt have not noticed their BFF’s (Waffle, Silver, Storm and Tiddles) have left to live with the girls for the winter.  To be honest though, I thought they would mind terribly but, no, these little guys are always together and very happy.

Efstur is turning into a very special lad.

Taktur, on the other hand, wants to be a donkey in his spare time!

(So, that’s some of the boys – out in the field behind the house.  The best therapy on a bad day and they have a wonderful way of putting my world back into perspective.)

Me:  Floss, can I ask a favour?
Floss:  What? (guarded)

Me:  I can’t use the photos I took for the blog this morning (I was experimenting and sadly, the results were rubbish).  I have to go to Lerwick this afternoon, please can you take some pics of the chaps for me?
Floss:  Ok (grudgingly, I might add and I even offered her my little Leica to play with).

Anyway, I have to say, Floss’ photos are brilliant.  I love them.

Her camera (her phone) lets her down but she gets it.  Like Daisy, she has a good eye.

I am truly blessed – both my daughters take good photographs and films.  This is an important skill.

I love this sequence – Klængur is drinking from the burn while Kappi watches on.

This is an unusual sight – Kappi playing.

Yes, grabbing your orange friend by the neck out is considered fun.

These two are good friends.

“Guys, guys – where are you guys?” – Iacs has looked up from grazing to find everyone has moved on without him.  It happens all the time.

A great shot.

It is so important that the herd can relax knowing they are safe and happy.

Newt will probably rule the world.

He is 17hh after all (*** shush, say nothing *** no one has told him ***)

This afternoon, Her Maj, aka BeAnne Duvet, had a play date with a kitten.

The most adorable kitten in the world called Trotsky.

Last week, BeAnne and Trotsky made their acquaintance.

And this week, BeAnne was asked back for an afternoon playdate.

Obviously, they took off from where they left off.

There were pauses (pawses) for a rest – and yes, we did bring BeAnne’s bed so she had her space for time out.

Trotsky had his bed too.

And then he stole BeAnne’s bed.  Because that is what kittens do!

And BeAnne sulked.

This is because a 14 week kitten is so much bigger than a 12 year old Patterdale terrier.

But they were firm friends and hours were spent bouncing and chasing each other.

I think BeAnne is wonderful for the way she behaved.  She never put a paw wrong and she loved every minute playing with Trotsky.

She taught him what she had learned as a puppy with Celt (our beloved and very tolerant lurcher) all those years ago.

Awww, I love BeAnne’s watching baby films (*** sniff ***).

I have been not here this afternoon – busy collecting No 2 daughter from the airport to bring her home.

So, in absentia, I tasked No 1 daughter to go out and take photos for me for the Blog.

No 1 Daughter did good.  Very good.

She knows what make my heart sing.

Even photos of  Lambie, who was on a monumental sulk from this morning  because I asked him to live “in a field” ….. “like a normal sheep” so he could meet some friends of mine.

Lambie ,of course, then held onto that grudge for as long as he possibly could.

Fer crying’ out loud – who has a sheep, whose only friend is a chicken (the others had long since left him), and is still chanelling his inner Greta Garbo?

And this has to be the most boring film in the world!

Enjoy

It officially means I have no life (because I think eatiing the gate is cute) and Lambie is slightly deranged!

QED:   I need more gin!