Days of yore required horsey types to take their trusty steed or aincient nag, dependent on social status and depth/content of pockets, to a huge muscle bound bloke sweating away in the village forge to have their beast fitted with new shoes. Modern times have improved this ritual. The Farrier is now mobile in air conditioned vans, the wonders of technology has miniaturised the forge into something the size of a microwave sat in the back of the van and a portable anvil is used to beat the metal into submission making the perfect horse shoe.
All we had to do was provide horses, money and cups of tea while modern mobile farrier went about his business with amazing rapidity. Based on how much it cost over time taken in relation to number of similar planned visits Farrierman is paid just a bit more than a Harley Street plastic surgeon. Still it was worth every penny, Chester was his usual well behaved self, Apollo was so laid back about it he fell asleep and William had to check every detail before allowing super farrier anywhere near him. Trevor resorted to type and ran back and forth challenging all comers while Misty took advantage of the fracas and made her way into the tack room where she found rich pickings until evicted.
No comments:
Post a Comment