Anyone who knows me or who has paid attention to these pages will have realised that big cities and myself don't mix well. Time to time I have to go on courses which inevitably means I have to leave the hicks ville and head to the bright lights. My latest trip away to learn how to deal with female sex offenders meant not only did I have to give up my rural existence but I had to expose myself to the worst of humanity at an event hosted by the Greater Manchester Police. Fortunately amongst all the case studies and academic discussions as the the motivations of those intent on treating children in the most barbaric of ways I was able to take five and go outside and watch the GMP's horses grazing happily in the sunshine. The Hough End centre (pronounced Huff) is also home to the dog training section, which came as a relief when I discovered this as I really did think the sound of dogs barking was either me wishing I was back home or that my tinnitus had taken a turn for the worse and had changed from its now reassuring continuous high pitched scream (caused from sticking my head to close to the bass bins at heavy metal concerts) to an irritating bark.
By late afternoon I was sick of humanity and wandered out into the car park where two mounted police officers were returning from duty. I spent a happy five minutes chatting to them and patting their mounts which recharged the batteries for the last grim session of the day.
Animals are without doubt great therapy, they don't even have to try. I spent a while watching them eat tonight, for some reason Geisha has made herself a boa of hay, the lambs are on solid food and Trevor has nearly completed his transformation from a scruffy dark brown shitland to a stunning grey and black trimmed miniature horse. Whatever colour he is he is still a git.
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