To those of you who are spreading utter shite about me and my ponies.

Here are the Minions.  These are the three Shetland ponies I was asked to rescue on behalf of a third party who had been asked by the SSPCA.

I never intended to keep them, but wanted to get them well enough to be returned to their original breeders.

I duly phoned round the breeders and was asked by Storm’s if I could keep him.  I was happy to.

I then asked Waffle’s breeder, who is a close personal friend, if I could buy Waffle off him to keep Storm company.  Waffle was given to me.

For Silver, it was intended that he was returned to his breeder but at the end of the day, it was very obvious that the three ponies were very close.  I asked Silver’s breeder much later on if I could keep him and was told, if he was happy at Thordale, then that was fine.

So, have you got that clear in your tiny mind(s)?

At no point have any of The Minions been sold.  No, they are not down south and no, guess what, I have not made thousands of pounds by having them.  My Paypal account was not “on display” for all to see so that I could scrounge money out of folk.

If you want to go spreading shitery about me, then at least get your facts straight and stop accosting complete strangers in Shetland to tell them just how much you hate me for rescuing three starving Shetland ponies (the fourth one went back to his breeder).

This is the letter written by the vet on Day 2 after their arrival.

As you can see, the vet confirms their condition and that they would not survive in a hill park.

So, if you want to continue with this defamation and slander, I will bring in the big guns and see you in Court.

**** End of Rant *****

I have lost my mobile phone.

I can’t remember when I last saw it (they don’t really work here so it is not as though it is surgically attached to me like you folk south).  I had reached the point when I was turning everywhere upside-down.   Today, it was the feed shed’s turn.

I had help.  Muchos help.

While I was looking, I decided to chuck all the buckets outside to give the “helpers” something else to do rather than clamber inside my shed offering assistance. There is not much room with me, them and the feed bins.

Taktur and The Minions were intrigued by my endeavours.

BeAnne, of course, was the school playground monitor.  As always, she appointed herself.

I didn’t find my phone. So I am still looking and trying to backtrack.

By the way, if you are wondering how big The Minions are, here are some comparison photos with a normal sized cockerel.

So basically, the rule of thumb is two cockerels equals one Minion.

Maybe two and a bit, depending on who you are!

By the way, has anyone seen my phone?

The Minions have many names as a group – The Ickle Pickles, The Evil Weevils, The Webbies, Oi You 3, Tribblets, to name but a few.

I brought the Minions, who were Webbies by then (webbed feet from all the rain), into their shed and paddock last night, thinking they had probably had enough of being soaked.  They were very grateful and by the state of their shed this morning, I think they stayed there all night having a party.

Today promised to be dry so I took off Storm’s third rug (aka The Bat) and left them all around the outside of the house so I could rush out with another rug in case it rained and Storm melted. One hint of a drop and I am out there whippet-like, clutching a headcollar to drag him into the shed and get him dressed again. Storm has grown accustomed to my madness and just stands there with the look of one who has to wear school uniform.  The others, to be fair, have given up pointing and laughing.

Lots of playing today.  It was lovely to see.

(loving the teefs …..

….. and the little skippetty hoofs)

Silver has really come into himself.  He is a complicated lad but inside there is a heart of gold.  He just doesn’t believe a human wants to talk or give him anything nice whereas the others know me and my pockets well.  But he sidles up when I least expect it and is quietly cuddly.  He moves beautifully too (that would be the imaginary part Arabian coming to the fore – طبق فضي للمائدة).

They still love their toys, though and, despite pretending to be all grown up like the big ones, they remain my bebbies.

❤ ❤ My silly-billy bebbies ❤ ❤

Our third day of bad weather.  I am bored of it now and so are the horses.  With cabin fever, I thought I would have a bit of a drive around to see if there was anything good to photograph.

So off I trundled, looking at the scenery and snapping away at anything interesting, like the heron or hegri flying away.

The hill ponies were ignoring the weather and standing with their bottoms into the wind. There is always plenty of shelter in the scattled (Shetland common grazing).

They looked up at me but weren’t interested.  Consuming food to convert to heat is all animals want to do.

And so I drove about being watched by the locals.

I think this is a rook, not a raven. I am not sure but there were two of them gliding around on the air currents coming off the hill.

It is not all doom and gloom on a dreich day like this.  The colours are beautiful and sheep look like woolly maggots, a friend of mine always says!

The hill sheep know their way around the hill very well.  They live in small herds never really straying from their area.  It is where they are born, live and die.  They know where the shelter is and how to use it.  The over-hanging peat hags are very useful for this purpose.

So you can see it is a foul day.  The wind is blowing the rain horizontal and everyone is fed up.  Storm is on his third rug and my kitchen resembles Widow Twankey’s drying room – 2 rugs, 1 survival suit (I walked the dogs), and I am on my second set of clothes.

Apparently it might stop on Monday!  Anyone remember sunshine?

I revisited my Icelandic horse photos on Flickr today.  You can see the best of the bunch here, if you are interested. 

This is the skewbald stallion is Álfur frá Selfossi being ridden by his owner, Christina Lund.

We went in August 2012 and it was my first time visiting this incredibly special and magical country.  I would definitely go again, any season armed with every camera I own.  Iceland is addictive.

We spent most of our time gazing at the horses that were living beside our little house where we stayed, in their natural environment trying hard not to buy everything we saw.

If it were easier to import horses into this country (and perhaps a little cheaper), I would’ve bought more.  They have a very roundabout route to go – Iceland to Liège (Belgium), then into Britain somewhere in the south.  It is a pity they can’t drop them off in Shetland en route.

I did, somehow, end up with four horses in my suitcase and that was me being restrained while I left the Voice of Reason at home.

Looking at my photos today, I realised I need to go back.  I need to see it all, and more, again.

It wasn’t just horses we looked at.  We went round, Jo, me and Daisy and saw fascinating geographical stuff including the Strokkur Geyser.

(a fountain geyser in the geothermal area beside the Hvítá River in Iceland in the southwest part of the country, east of Reykjavík. It is one of Iceland’s most famous geysers, erupting about every 4–8 minutes 15 – 20 m high, sometimes up to 40 m high – thank you Wikipedia).

I will admit to get rid of the people standing round the Geyser, I might’ve muttered the words “BBC” to get some space to photograph it!