Sunday, 20 September 2009

On Parade!

Here's our three boys lining up looking very handsome, they have spotted the newest resident at Rock HQ, Misty a very petite Shetland mare who is pregnant. Trevor when he saw her grew a foot in height and seemed to grow a fifth leg he was so excited. All three were very intrigued by Misty's sudden appearance which was all down to Tracey's hard work.

She is a good very good driver, unusual for girls I know but she was always one to buck a trend. Anyway despite never having towed a trailer before she borrowed Stable Sprites horse box, which is one more suitable to ferrying around two carthorses rather than a small 33 inch high miniature horse, (its massive) and drove sixty plus miles across country to fetch Misty, loaded her up and brought her back. I went along as morale support and can testify that it was a very pleasant trip once you got used to burning clutch smell or the fact that pressing the imaginary brake pedal the passenger side has no effect whatsoever. Only joking, it was a very nice few hours away from Rock HQ.

While we were out Pritch finished off the block work and he has done a marvelous job of it. The bunker is nearly finished.

Tracey also ignored my advice of pulling into the lay by a mile from HQ to allow Misty to walk up the lane to the house thus saving Rene dragging the trailer up the bonsai mountain and saving Tracey from having to reverse and turn the trailer round. Rene managed the hill without a murmur and Tracey executed a perfect 3 point turn with trailer first go. I bowed down to her prowess and took her for a pint of cider at our new local as a reward.

In all its been an action packed weekend, the jobs list has been attacked, and as ever each job completed has created two more, but we are happy with the progress we are making. Things seem to be falling into place at last. We were pondering on this as we got back to the start of our lane. Even seeing Murphy failed to spoil our feel good factor. He smiled and opened the gate for us, as we slowed down to negotiate the opening he pounced and started a conversation. I don't remember much of what was said, but he was surprised that he had got no apples on his tree. Or plums. Must've been a special sort of frost he supposed, that killed all his blossom, not one apple, not one solitary apple. I nodded and agreed. We drove on. No plums or apples Tracey mused. I don't suppose its got anything to do with your Berkshires getting fat! she enquired. I said nothing. Never underestimate the power of denial.

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