wychwell-eventing-blog

Suckling Pig

Fri, 04 May 2012 17:53:32 +0100

Okay guys you've not come forward with many pig homing offers, so we've had to take another route as we really don't have a pig pen suitable for raising nine pigs.

Firstly we ran the pigs past the tray looking for suitably sized candidates;

Then we picked a pig;

Double take, is this the right pig?

Then we stunned the pig, eewwh!

Killed the pig;

(NOT PICTURED.)

Prepared the pig for cooking;

And cooked the pig;

Yummy Yummy!

Not really, not yet, but we are considering this as a course of action as it does look good, see the recipe;
http://chubbyhubby.net/blog/?p=499

Thanks Marie for that!

And the whole point of having our own piggies was and is to eat them, not really at 6 weeks old, but I do know they've had a good free range life, are not GM and have never been pumped full of chemicals or hormones.

But have we got the balls to eat them? With the head on? I'm rather doubting it.

Dogs, cobs and Docs.

Sat, 28 Apr 2012 18:58:39 +0100

I had planned to boast to you of the wonderful weekend I had jumping Turnip and Red at Brecey. However as I frequently find it's best not to make predictions of success.

Last Monday Red and Turnip visited Gavray and jumped very well, I arrived home glowing not just because of their perfomances but because Mr Gavray had invited me to use his holiday gite and stabling in exchange for working some hours once I have relocated back to England.
By Wednesday morning I had truly lost that glow as I could barely get out of bed, let alone walk. It seems that Peggy had managed to make me slip a disc in my back. After jumping my back is frequently a bit sore, as a result of an injury some 10 years ago, that resulted in a crushed vertebrae. When Peggy jumped around whilst I tried to lead her away from her mum it must have been the final straw and popped something out of place. I endured Wednesday or rather the dogsbody did, I have a faint recollection of parking myself on the bed Wednesday night and telling him, rather, wailing at him that I wanted to die. Sadly, I really meant it, I suppose it goes to show I'm not very good with pain. Being on a lucky roll the doctors are shut on Thursday, and I must admit that by Friday morning it wasn't feeling half so bad, but it still seemed worthy of a trip to see Dr Jelly.
If you live round here you may have been lucky enough to encounter Dr Jelly and while I have no doubt that he is a very well-educated man, well-informed doctor and has a work ethic to make me baulk there are certain aspects of being a GP that he appears to struggle with. You certainly wouldn't describe him as hands-on, he goes to great lengths to avoid personal contact. If he has to listen to your chest he very self-consciously feeds the stethoscope down your polo neck all the while making embarrassed little coughs and nods. So it was fortunate that my condition didn't require any clothing to be removed as it would have been dreadfully awkward given the positions I had to assume. After a few limbering exercises of standing on tiptoe and then on heel,I had to attempt to touch my toes while he took measurements of my abilities. This was followed by my having to repeat the exercise while he stood behind me taking further measurements, this didn't strike me as particularly unusual at the time, although in later discussion I realised that I had been placed in rather a compromising position.
This was followed up by movements on the couch, I seemed to pass all the tests required of me when I lay on my back but I was then requested to roll over onto my front, from experience I knew this wouldn't be so easily done. Halfway through the rolling over procedure I got stuck with my bum in the air and my face buried in the pillow, I was overtaken by the hysterical laughter of embarrassment while tears of pain roll down my cheeks. It was more than Dr Jelly could handle; he hopped about from foot to foot ducking and flapping, nodding and squirming all the while accompanying his strange little dance with coughs and chirrups of reassurance that I should take my time. To be honest a hand would have been more helpful but that wasn't forthcoming. I'm being unfairly mean here because Dr Jelly did reward my efforts with a prescription of umpteen pills for pain and inflammation that seem to have been very successful.
It's now over a week since I initially became crippled and I'm back to riding, despite being a bit uncomfortable it is a major improvement on last Friday. I did have 48 hours of sliding drastically backwards but I think it was perhaps self induced by overzealous yoga stretches. So I am now being particularly stupid or valiant and planning to take Turnip back to England this coming week to do his first novice of the season at Broadway. Though I imagine if this weather continues Broadway won't be running either;

While my back was too crook to ride we took Blackjack to his new home at Cancale, about 1 1/2 hours from here.He has gone to a fledgeling riding school, Centre équestre des Douets Fleuris,run by a young man as beautiful as Blackjack himself;

they will make a handsome couple.
I think to begin with this summer he will be used for riding on the beach

and he hopes this Autumn to start using him for lessons. He needs a lot of work to start as I sold him unbroken as I seem to have enough on my plate at the moment one-way and another.We wish in the best of luck in his new home and I feel quite humbled by all the hard work the young chap has put into starting his own establishment, even down to building the first stables himself. It was a great excuse for us to enjoy a day at the beach, luckily the weather wasn't too bad, we managed to dodge the showers, have a yummy seafood lunch and take the dogs for a lovely walk afterwards,

past some very pretty houses.

I bravely risked the saddle on Wednesday, Roger was nominated to babysit me. He was on best behaviour as I had given him lots of clouts the previous few days for being rough with me on the lead. My back had been so bad I couldn't tolerate any rough-and-tumble at all, mostly confining myself to the house to do small DIY tasks. Having survived Rog I thought I'd be brave and take Turnip over to the forest at St.Sever, strange that sounds Turnip is always more settled when I ride him away from home, I suppose there are genuinely interesting things for him to look at, he doesn't have to make the demons up as he goes along.
When I pulled up to park ( the dogsbody came with me to help me get on), we were met by a fabulous little black and tan dog that reminded me of Pete. He was about the same size and had very similar mannerisms, the long goofy legs that flapped out the side as he ran. On closer inspection it was much finer than Pete with dainty little legs and exquisite little head. I noticed that he was entire so while I was tacking Turnip up, the dogsbody asked his french owner if he was available as a stud dog. The old boy who was obviously proud of his hunting, he was all still in all his hunting garb despite it being well past the season, informed us the dog was not his and that he had found him the month previous, lost in the woods. Despite adverts and contacting the police no owners had presented themselves so he had claimed the little fella as his own. He was only too delighted to hire him out so I'm very excited at the prospect of making some mini Pete's next time Mini comes into season. It's just rather a shame we didn't begin the conversation looking for a lost dog but he seemed to have bonded pretty well with his new master.

The ride the woods promised to be fantastic, the smells were fabulous thanks for to the rain and the rays of sun made it pretty as a picture until..........
We were halfway round, wandering up this beautiful avenue of trees,

luckily on the waymarked bridlepath, when a massive dog came barrelling down the track in attack mode. It was a massive mastif cross dog without collar or lead being walked by a man in forestry uniform. It came hammering down the track at Turnip, who very fortunately is brave and bold about this kind of thing.
I started to panic but didn't want to turn back incase the dog gave chase. After a few calls to the dog illiciting no response the owner looked worried and chased after it.By now the dog was right up to us and threatening to jump at us, but fortunately the guy arrived too, causing it to turn back and go to him.
The guy then beckoned me past, but as I approached the dog threatened to jump again, baying all the while. Turnip wasn't convinced and nor was I. The big mastiff dog was hunting or petrified or maybe both, either way it's flashing yellow eyes were vicious and ready for attack.
I enquired if the dog was safe to pass and was reassured that "yes, indeed, the dog was safe". Still no collar or lead in sight to restrain it. As we began to pass the dog it launched itself at us, loosing itself from the bloke. Again the bloke managed to get it back and hold it by the scruff of the neck but as we stepped forward it made another lunge forcing the bloke to jump on top of it,still all the while smiling and encouraging me past. So timidly we stepped towards them but it leapt up throwing the bloke off so that all he could do was grab a back foot and be dragged towards us.
Turnip and I had seen enough, I yelled over over my shoulder that we'd find another route,so I took the road round and back past the little cottage from whence man and dog had obviously come, since when I passed it was baying at the gate at Turnip and myself while he patted it on the head telling it to be a good dog.
I was totally furious as it wasn't the size or type of dog to have out of control with no form of restraint to hand. I'm damn sure if Turnip had had me off the bloody thing would have had me and whilst the bloke might have been very sorry it wouldn't have done much to repair my face or neck or anyone else's that the bloody thing had decided to turn on.
Full thanks and credit to Turnip that on occasions like this he is incredibly bold, brave and ( surprise surprise ) sensible.

Le Haras du Pin and other chateaux

Sun, 15 Apr 2012 20:24:38 +0100

Okay so now I'm going to do a little bit of the catching up as promised..........
Firstly Le Haras du Pin, after several hundred phonecalls the dogsbody finally managed to discover that every tuesday throughout February and March a young horse clear round showjumping day is held, from 4yo's in the morning to 6yo's in the afternoon. But noone checks the age or passport of your horse, so it basically means the jumps go from smaller to bigger. They informed us on entering that the height of the jumps couldn't be changed which was rather bewildering since every rider seemed to have a helper on the ground adjusting the jumps before and during their round. To complicate matters further three to four horses are allowed into the arena at one time although only one is actually jumping and to add a little more spice to the situation there is no running order and you can't put your name or number down, you just “discuss” it with the other riders.
Now if this was England the effect would be chaos but it's not, it's France and for starters at a competition it is normally usual to be jumping you round with either one or two other horses in the ring.( I'm not sure of the logic in this, it no doubt allows your horse to have checked out the jumps and definitely speeds up the overall running of the class. I do find it slightly off putting when someone rides infront of number two when your three strides off it, though to be fair this rarely happens and I find it terrifying when they urge you to enter the ring when the horse infront of you is still jumping as I'm on high terror alert that I might ride infront of someone. My poor brain can only cope with attempting to remember my course, trying to dodge competing horses for three minutes before I even get the bell is more than my nerves can handle!)
So there you have it, several horses in the ring is indeed good practice for horse and rider down the line and the lack of running order just isn't a problem as usually there are only four or five horses ready to go anyhow. The big young horse producers bring a lorry load and stay all day jumping from one feisty green horse to another- rather them than me.
I only managed to get to Le Pin twice this spring as events just conspired against me, Kev being born, a morning of seriously dense fog etc etc.
However I did manage once with Charlie and Red, Charlie was mostly impressed with some women he spied over the fence when he was being lunged.

This did cause a few minor incidents of in the air front leg waving but he actually jumped incredibly well over far bigger jumps than he has before. I must have been having a gung ho moment as it was getting on for a beefy metre. Sadly the dogsbody's photography skills were a little lacking, mostly I think due to him worrying about trying to keep up with us whilst dragging round the safety mat for my anticipated crash landing.

Red wasn't really that fab on his first trip, he was all whizz and no brain but by the second trip with Turnip he was a different animal, I just can't believe how unspooky he is, he's come on from my having pricked him whilst shoeing him and having a fortnight off. Obviously he missed it!

Turnip jumped well enough, he lacked a little lustre but I suspect he was a little stiff from having schooled at Gavray the day before. It was the first time this year I really got the jumps up high again and he just flew so I think perhaps he was feeling a little sore.He wasn't bad by normal horse standards, he just didn't feel his normal harrier jump jet self.

Sweaty snacking ponies afterwards
;

So now onto the big decision I spoke of last week..........

We have finally, after much agonising decided to sell our beloved home in France and move back to the UK. It has been a very difficult thing for me to address despite being forced on me by family circumstances that I shan't bore you with here. Accepting the decision has been harder still, being here can seem like occupying Eden. It is so beautiful, the land is just out of this world, how many places can you ride your horse in the field all year round and the ground is neither too wet or too hard. The granite sand within the soil makes for a springy turf that never holds the water. The house is the home we have made it and all our animals are so cheaply well fed and contented here.The horse facilities are good............ I could go on and on...
But I won't because I want you please to visit my website and have a nose around our home;

www.normandyequestrianproperty.com

I implore you to click on my site even if you've never had or ever will entertain any dream of ever moving to France, because
A- you'll be astounded by what 140,000 pounds can buy you in France
and more importantly
B- you'll be another visitor to my site and every little helps my being found by the site engines.

Don't worry you won't be alone. I have just broken my record and last week over one hundred of you were dozy enough to take time to read my drivel. I concede a good twenty hits seem to result from from direct hacking of Verity's facebook page ( I thought she had more friends than this!) but I do have permission, sometimes.
Rather alarmingly my site seems to be best found by Google when people are searching for Jack Russells. Perhaps I should spend more time on the target topic, but no, who cares? I'll carry on bombarding you with cutesy baby animal pictures instead.
Everything else has been ticking along, sun shining, rain raining (thankfully after a big dry spell), grass growing, birds chirping, Kevin lumping........ Kevin is now a three week old bruiser.

I decided having moved Visa to a field further from the house for more grass that I'd give her Monty as a mate since she was probably finding Kev a bit tiresome as company with all his baby talk. Poor Monty he was rather taken aback by his ex girlfriend's greeting;

She looked so cross but so beautiful (something I've never seen in her before), ears flat back, nostrils flared like one of the old carved wooden horses on the fairground carousel. Monty wasn't that fussed out about it, cos he's 'ard enough to deal with it and more of a mellow donkey than most, so they're now all settled down, playing happy families.
Lastly I've been occupying myself with pig farming,

my sister informs me that this does not qualify as farming pigs but loving pigs. I disagree, how many people have ten pigs and a runt?

WEENER– the weeny micropig! Microwaveable ready meal for one.

Pig tales

Mon, 09 Apr 2012 08:31:47 +0100

Favourite pig;

was busy rooting pig;

so not available for kissing pig;

Which was lucky, as it caused jealous pig;

to be chasing pig
;
which led to wrestling pig;

squealing pig;

fighting pig;

serious fighting pig;

even victorious pig;

Sadly this left a pooped pig;

which turned to dead pig!;

JUST KIDDING!!

Was only sleeping pig;

leaving favourite pig all forlorn;

Pigs 'ere

Fri, 06 Apr 2012 21:13:27 +0100

Last week was busy in terms of very big decisions but I didn't do particularly much apart from deciding said decisions. I will come to talk about all this deciding but not now, that can wait for next week.
If I don't get on with a posting shortly I'll be in to next week anyhow and I'm really trying my hardest to be good and keep on top of news for you and memories for me.
Yes we have pigs- lot of pigs, we went from two pigs to ten pigs in just a couple of hours.It all began on friday morning with Twiggy deciding she couldn't possibly eat breakfast which is rare for a pig, so it seemed like something was up. Indeed it was, by the time we'd got back from a quick trip to the market to stock up on carrots for pigs and cobs and fresh fish for us Twiggy had popped out one and was in the midst of popping out number two.

We'd never really seen new born piglets before so it was bit of a shock to see these tiny mites born ready to rock. They kind of burst out of their sacks, onto their feet, scrabbled round mum's leg, grabbed a teat and fought a sibling. Bowled over by their fierce determination to survive I became completely consumed by them. Which is a good thing since they don't half take a lot of time. We must have spent three hours a day running around, refencing and repenning, then doing it all over again a few hours later as their boundaries had expanded yet again.
Let me explain.........
Twiggy had five bouncing kids as I've said and this was immedately followed by Anneka (so named from Treasure Hunt's,Anneka Rice, 'cos she's a fast runner too) giving birth to hers.Anneka being a far bigger and fatter pig was expected to be the bumper producer but no such luck. Unlike Twiggy she positioned herself in a completely useless place to have them so we had to move her and once she started popping them she out went into panic mode, hopping up and down squashing them right, left and centre. Furthermore they were all little tiny runty things apart from the two stillborn and the one she jumped on so badly that the dogsbody had to dispatch it.

So by friday night they were both set up with five piglets each, but come saturday morning they were down to four piglets each. Anneka loosing one was no surprise, I thought she'd manange to squash the lot, not just the wee runt. Twiggy's loss was a shock though as her little troop had been so sturdy. One piglet was wandering around in the pen, all lost looking, so we assumed immediately that the missing piglet had walked out through the fence (they easily fit through the mesh at their current size) and then rolled off down the hill into the neighbour's overgrowth. We had a search and spoke to the neighbour, the piglet was nowhere to be seen and the neighbour suggested it had been taken by a cat, fox or polecat as there had been a crazy commotion going on at five that morning which set his hunting dogs to bay. He told us we'd have to shut them in at night which was pretty self evident if we wanted to have any survivors.

Several hours were then spent moving shelters and fences, then little fenced alleys back to their homes to help them find their way about. Once all that was done I set about horse stuff only to hear the high pitched squeeling of a hunted piglet emerging from the neighbour's undergrowth. I legged it round the corner to find the little missing piglet upended in the bog only feet away from a drowning in his pond. Once the hardy soul was reunited with her mum after her twelve hour pioneering adventure she made a speedy recovery, though you'd be surprised how long it takes to catch up on twelve hours of milk fed growing.

This is how the days have continued; every time we fence an even bigger area they immediately begin to venture further and it has to be extended, moved or done all over again to accommodate the new arrangements.
These little guys, infact they are mostly girls, (only two boys) may look cute but they are infact hell bent on destruction, either of themselves; by going through the fence in search of a doggy to munch them, pond to drown in or pony to be squashed by or failing that, destruction of each other.Just watch this

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVNptmKWcHk

and this;

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3WfOv0OSq8s

The real problem is that we only wanted two piglets to fatten for the freezer so if you know anyone needing a piglet please don't be shy. They are proper pure bred Kune Kunes (native pig to New Zealand complete with piripiris- dangly bits on the chin like a goat) but they don't and won't have paperwork as they were free to us.

A Kune boar who was about to get the axe came to us the morning of his execution to be a daddy once more.I wanted so much to save him for good but we couldn't. We didn't have the pig penned space to accommodate him and our rehoming project wasn't quite as successful as anticipated. It's a shame as he was good and friendly pig, but likewise he was four or five years old and had had a happy life, first in the UK before being imported here. So in the end it fell to our neighbour's hunting nephew to dispatch the boar to feed his hunting dogs (being an old used boar the meat is pretty tainted we've been led to believe but I guess the doggies weren't so fussed).
Anyhow the nephew arrived with two hunting buddies one sunny morning to seal poor Kaiser's (the boar's) fate. He slumbered on, bathing in the warm sun while his doomsday marched upon him. Three keen hunters wielding knives held high were shown to his quarters but then seemed in two minds as to whether they were brave enough to go in with him or not ,despite the dogsbody's protestations that he was a quiet pet pig. The hunters found his size and rather large tasks a little daunting I fear since after a further five minutes of knife flashing and heated discussion they waltzed in and shot him! Poor Kaiser he was getting ready for an unexpected lunch, not to be an unexpected lunch.
It was however a very speedy end for him and he was totally spared all trauma of transport to the slaughterhouse and death in strange surrounds. I also suspect that parts of him live on, and not only in his kids. The neighbour had always been particularly partial to his tusks, whenever presented with an opportuntiy to chat he'd always have to bring up the huge size of Kaiser's tusks. I wouldn't be the least surprised if the poor pig's head was now mounted on his kitchen wall so that he can regal his nephew's grandkids with the splendid tale of the great wild boar hunt of 2012 when the huge boar was eventually held at bay by his formidable team of hunting dogs, just as the night was closing in, amidst the deepest darkest depths of the forest. And alone armed only with a bayonet (his ammo spent) he had no choice but to approach the savage raging beast and there alone kill him with one swift stab to the heart.
Either that or he ground the tusks up and adds a quick nip to his coffee and calva before he heads off to Tiffany's (our local nightclub) for a weekend of dance and jollity.

Enough of pigs, now to the real pig's ear;
Since living in Normandy it has become apparent in small increments that some level of farriery skill was going to have to be discovered on my part. At the beginning this was due to finding that if I lost a shoe a day before a competition, or even a week, that it was highly unlikely I'd get a farrier back here to replace it in time. Replacing a shoe quickly before the foot gets smashed up is not that hard as the nails tend to follow where they were before so it's just a matter on finding a way to clench them up. When you only have wire snips and a hammer the end result is not pretty but is effective.
Now we are in new realms altogether. I have begun (very badly as will be revealed) to shoe a couple of them myself. The main reason being that I can't find a farrier to keep the horses or me happy. I have lost so many hours of riding time with horses uncomfortable in ill fitting shoes, not least because the French style is so different. It is very upright and boxy, looks ghastly but more worryingly than that some of the horse just hate it. Two years ago Roger got to the point that he couldn't even straighten his leg properly after being shod, he'd be so forward, trembling at the knee which of course led to him tripping whilst out on rides.
Enough was enough,I thought I'd give it a go myself this last Winter. Being lucky enough to have Dave Smith doing my shoes whilst back in the UK the first couple of sets weren't so bad as the foot grew down following his trim pattern and I only rasped tentatively to take the minimum off before reapplying a shoe from a saved summer set I knew should fairly fit. As the months have gone by his foot balance has been lost and they are no longer looking as good as I would like. However until very recently they had all been sound and not tripping so I felt like I was having a degree of success.
It's all the gear that really does it;
apron, snips, rasps,nail pull oh yeah we've got all the biz!
But all the gear, no idea,I got too cocky and so came the pig's ear, about three weeks ago I gave Ginge a bad prick that drew blood so he has been off the road for at least a fortnight,as it made him pretty sore. Thankfully he seems to be pretty right again now so we shall see, I did a lot of poulticing but never really saw much come out he has returned to four legs now though having scooted about on three for the better part of one whole week.
Hopefully when I go back to the UK I can get a bit of farriery tuition,I'm never about to consider it for a job, it is damn hard work (I now know why farrier's kick horses, scream and shout – you'd be a saint not to when they're sat on top of you being awkward knowing better, no names mentioned Ginge).But it would be nice to feel I can do a set with a little competence or at least confidence when the need arises albeit with shoes already shaped and suitable for fitting.

French Kissing

Sun, 25 Mar 2012 07:44:19 +0100

Don't know what's been happening round your parts but “Oh my!” the sun has brought out everyone's loving round these parts. Turnip is always your man for a lick if you're after affection, trouble being his licks lead to nips, lead to bites,lead to full on head lock grabs. This bullock is soon to experience this delight but I left the photos here, it just gets ugly. Turnip tries to drag him through our very safe and sturdy garden boundary fence so we'll finish here, all sweetness and light, sunny and springy.

BECAUSE this week belongs to Monty. Not only has Monty mastered the art of hefting heifers over jumps:

He has also become a dad:

Monty is no longer in the dad capacity, but prior to being chopped I gave him the opportunity to have a little fling with Visa. Kevin ( christened with the HOLY WATER of course) is the upshot of this brief liason.

Monty has had a such a big week he is now out on holidays for six months to do some growing and contemplating. He didn't think much of that he wanted to be the all action sportshorse hero, he thinks holidays are dull.

On tuesday I was all set for the third time on the trot to set off the Haras du Pin for their clear round showjumping day with which I'll elaborate on a future occasion, but I thought I'd just pop down with the feeds for Visa and Peggy before I left. So I was taken aback when I arrived at the field to see three brown ponies.Recovering from surprise I felt a pang of guilt that I'd left the poor maiden mare out in the field to deal with it all herself. I had been checking her titties every morning for six weeks and while her boobs had been blossoming on a daily basis she never showed any sign of a waxy nipple or two. Furthermore she never seemed to slow down or look uncomfortable.

Poor little Pearl, for her last few weeks she looks like a balloon about to burst and contents herself with looking unhappily uncomfortable while she potters round the field. Visa was still giving it full throttle up the hill every morning. Probably trying to get some breakfast before fat little Peggy guzzled it all down. Such a little princess you'd never imagine her to be the oat guzzling pig that she is, her breakfast goes down whole, in the dainty mouth, one gulp.

So anyhow when I got my first glimpse of Kevin my gut reaction was that I'd somehow managed to breed myself a Neddy. Now that is a pretty rude remark to make about dear Neddy who afforded me such success but noone could honestly say that Ned was a looker. He had a fabulously athletic figure but he was never a beauty. And here was my foal with the just the same head, so what could he be called but Kevin, it just leapt from my tongue. This is me reassuring Donut that she is more beautiful than Kevin and that he won't take her place."

Day two afforded Kev some considerable improvements, either that, or I'd got used to him. I think in fairness he was probably a bit unwell the first day, he had that hunched back ,starey coat look that a poisoned rat assumes or a freezing bird in the winter. But day two saw him burst forth with new cantankerous vigour, he's had a busy few days of training so he's now perfected how not to lead by digging in his stubborn little heels, how to groom a lion when he's having his bum scratched:

and how to pet a puppy:

Sorry you were too late, the pups have all now been reserved, better luck next time! We easily could have sold six and more probably eight or ten. Disappointed people rang back on a daily basis, checking to see if the people before them in the queue had actually turned up to see them. Forget horses, puppy breeding is the way to go round these parts. It's only legal to have one litter a year before you have to register as breeder and pay tax over here which probably explains the amazing quantity of Jack russell litters with ten or twelve pups that you see advertised. We've only managed a four, twelve and we'd buy a yacht.

I think all of these pups are going to super homes and what a diverse bunch. One is going to a Dutch couple with five dogs, one to an elderly retired couple, one to a lady who has already set up a blog for her pup and one to such a sweet little nerdy couple from Vire that very nearly had me in a fit of a giggles.They were both fortunate enough to have my kind of frizzy hair, the sort that dogsbody also sports. If you've got it you'll know just what a menace it can be, frizzy hair doesn't like hairbrushes they just serve to give you volumised frizz. (That's my excuse for minimum hair care anyhow).,

I digress ,the dogsbody was in need of a haircut, he has the sort of hair that just grows up and out like a little fuzzy helmet. The couple from Vire also sported this very same style and as I came back into the room they were all stood in a line deep in discussion about the fluffy pup.I spluttered and choked and swallowed my mirth, they looked like three of those little plastic lego men with the plastic hair.

You'd be forgiven for thinking I'm some nasty bag for bitching so,but this is possibly the first and probably the last time I have ever had the best haircut of those around me.Let me bask in in my moment of glory- please.

Sorry guys we'd love to have lived with you but we're all gone. You could buy a flashy handmade bed like this one so you can home your own pooch in style though!!

http://wychwellwoodworking.yolasite.com/fancy-french-dog-beds.php

Bear Back

Wed, 21 Mar 2012 14:51:22 +0100

It may be necessary for you to refer to last week's post to really get this photo and realise I haven't lost my marbles just yet. You may recall on my first day of breaking Monty I introduced him to being ridden by a bear, it just happened the bear was to hand. I have a decent selection of large fluffy toys used for breaking and jumping and lots else besides. Most purchased for a pound a piece, well a euro actually at the local junk shop.
Since Monty was accustomed to bears it only seemed right that I should follow suit on my first attempt to mount him. As you can see it worked remarkably well and he was very calm and relaxed. So calm infact I decide to push the boat out and break him to fancy dress while I was at, hence Goldilocks and the three bears;

I'm sure many of you will be so moved by these photos that you will want to replicate them for yourselves. For this very reason I shall refer you to the website of thunderpants.

http://www.thunderwear.co.nz/

I really can't big up Thunderwear pants enough, they are the only pants I now own, principally because they are fantastic to ride in. They don't ride up your bum and being lovely cotton throughout they don't give you bum spots.
I'm also a little buddy buddy with Thunderpants because they were kind enough to let me win a competition with the photos of Roger sporting knickers on his nose to be a budget Rudolph for my Christmas cards in 2010.The prize was three free pairs so win win all round.
So please do look at their site and buy yourself some pants and maybe a bra top but perhaps only if you have less saggy boobs than me. I really need a little wire to show that I have something there!
You will pleased to know that I haven't squandered the whole week being an idiot, I have also done constructive things with Monty like long reining him over jumps;

and even riding him.
He's going to be a star, just need a kid for him now.
I also took Turnip hairy yak jumping at Gavray,

he seriously needs a trim and is surprisingly sensible for mane and tail pulling but insists on warmer weather as it comes out easier. As you have seen I was too busy getting my kit off in the warm weather to worry about pony trimming.
Turnip also took a turn over the fluffy toys;

Charlie has been doing fluffy toys

and chubby show pony trotting in the field too;

I have also indulged in pleasure seeking this week, I took Rog and Turnip for a ride in Suisse Normandie with the dogsbody. We were in the vicinity because having taken my lead from Duchess Kate I felt duty bound to own a pair of boots from Chameau. Not being quite so well to do I had to make do with the seconds shop at the factory. To be honest I wasn't actually after wellies just a pair of good walking boots with a heel that makes walking with my dodgy knee considerably more comfortable. My last pair were a tenner and lasted well but Chameau have since deemed it necessary to upgrade the shop and they've unfortunately upgraded the prices to match,so I left a little disappointed. However if you know what you want and the size get your orders in to Verity all speedily. She maybe kind enough to drop by the factory when she comes over to collect the ponies and pick them up for you.
This morning I treated myself to another junk shop visit, it is my favourite shop in the world as you can go in, spend five euros and leave with more than you can carry. Today we hit the jackpot they greeted us with an offer of free furniture; a nice beech side board/cupboard that needs a little stripping and repairing.
But the ultimate freebie was my HOLY WATER, yes you read that correctly I have been blessed with the gift of holy water, collected and bottled in 1970 from Lourdes.

Our lady of Lourdes was said to have appeared to Bernadette Soubrious on a total of eighteen occasions, propelling Lourdes to a major place of Roman Catholic Pilgrimage and miraculous healing. The 150th Jubilee of the first apparition took place on the 11^th February 2008 with an outdoor mass attended by 45,000 pilgrims(thanks Wiki);

Now I'm thinking if a grilled cheese sandwich featuring the Virgin Mary sold to Goldenpalace.com in 2004 for 28,000 dollars then a genuine bottle of Lourdes Holy water collected in 1970 is going to be worth a hell of a lot more. So I invite you now to place your bids, it's price will only go up as I shall sprinkle a few drops on my knee every night to validate it's healing powers. So get your bid in while you can!!
Our last antique bottle project wasn't a rip roaring success, the dogsbody was cruising Angloinfo and found links to photos of old bottles that had sold for several hundred euros each. We had found one in the garden that looked to be all but identical to one of them so in a buzz of excitement he began to clean it up ready for auction. Trouble was it didn't like stinking hot water so shattered irrepairably along with our dreams of a quick buck.
Pleased it wasn't me!

The aliens have landed.

Fri, 09 Mar 2012 19:02:54 +0100

About a week, ten days ago I was busy minding my own business mucking out the stables in the dark, about nine at night.(The horses are all living out at night in an effort to maintain all round sanity, sense for them, less work for me). Suddenly there was an almighty crash that made the very rafters shiver and had me running for the door, scanning the skies for evidence of the burning inferno from the bomb just dropped. But no, nothing to be seen.

We are informed by those that know, if indeed they do from the angloinfo forum that this is just another sonic boom and nothing whatsoever to be alarmed about. Infact why bother even removing backside from sofa or eyes from telly.

I, however, have a different theory on the boom altogether; The aliens have no doubt landed and chosen this very part of Calvados to begin their take over of planet earth.

There evidence of this is here in this UFO sighting captured over the fields last night;

and here with this creature found lurking in the cellar;

Not to mention my personal health, the germ warfare the aliens detonated with their sonic boom has just about killed me this week, but I refuse to succumb. It struck about noon on wednesday with brown projectile from both ends ( I'd just eaten two chocolate supercookies!) and lasted til the early evening. Pretty hideous actually it knocked the stuffing right out of me. Though on the upside I did manange to loose nearly five pounds in as many hours so the catwalk beckons.

For some strange reason the horses didn't seem to be perturbed by the boom which is either due to the fact that we have a lot of hunting (shooting we would call it in the UK) round here all through the winter season which involves much banging and crashing, whooping, hollering and bugling by drunk peasants with shotguns who occasionally manage to hit a pigeon, a hare, a bambi, the neighbour's cat, Fred their drunk mate on point duty (hence they all wear flourescent hats or jackets) and once in a very blue moon; a boar. Shooting a boar is where it's at.

Perhaps they are also used to banging from the tree felling common at this time of year round these parts. I'm not sure how long the custom of tree felling from November through March will last, I'm not sure how many trees are left and how many you need to sustain just one winter. Quite a few by the looks of it. Anyhow the crash of a mighty Oak or Beech that has taken several hundred years to grow is not only heart breaking in my humble opinion but also incredibly loud.

Turnip and I were lucky enough to have first hand experience of this on a ride through the forest a few weeks back. We could here the buzz of chainsaws up ahead sounding pretty close to the track I was taking. I remember thinking it would be sod's law if that great beech came down just as we were going past. And bugger me,just as I was upon it the guy killed his chainsaw and stood back (very bad sign) where upon there was an ominous creak and crack and the mighty beech began it's thundering crash to the ground. Turnip didn't wait for more. Now I haven't ever really asked Turnip for foot to the floor type acceleration, I'm always a little wary he might throw in some jinxes which would result in my painful ejection.In this case I didn't call the shots, turnip hit the gas full speed ahead and I was hanging on for dear life. I have to say it was rather exhilarating and I couldn't help myself but be overtaken by hysterical laughter. Lucky it was a path we both knew as he dodged in and out of the trees at break neck speed. Lucky also we were a good half mile off the road so that I had just managed to haul him back before we reached it. Cleared our cobwebs anyhow!

I felt pretty rough this whole week to be honest before and after the alien bug so not a whole lot of positive things happened, though Monty was ridden by a Polar bear on his very first day of breaking. Proof if ever that was needed that the ice caps are melting and the bears are indeed looking to expand their habitat.

Back to the Beach

Sun, 04 Mar 2012 14:33:59 +0100

It's that time of year when hitting the beach is one of my favourite past times. Must be the weather for it!

I guess during the summer it's a drive too far and the days are too full of other more constructive activities. I do like the young horses to go to the beach a couple of times because they usually get to see a string or two of racehorses and they get to experience wide open nothingness which I guess surprises a lot of modern day domesticated horses so used to having close boundaries and near horizons.

So Stephanie kindly offered to come down to the beach with me and ride Roger to accompany me on Charlie.We had a trial run at this in November with Rog and Turnip at Deauville, Steph came to a dressage competition to help me out and we were rewarded for our early morning efforts by a beautiful sunny ride on the beach afterwards with glorious blue skies and seas.

It was rather disappointing then that we rocked up to such dense fog at the beach near Avranches, this is Steph obviously surprised at the apparent disappearance of the Mont st. Michel.

Fog aside it all went rather, better than I had dared hope, Charlie has had a busy week of Haras du Pin and forest rides and since he's not very well travelled he has been getting progressively more excited as each new adventure unravels itself. So by the time we arrived at the beach having driven past lathered trotters bouncing their gigs and racehorses wending their way back from the beach he was in a little lather over all these possible women or possible 'scenarios' with women.

Lady luck smiled kindly on us for once and I managed to get away with an hour's activity on the beach and in the dune sand track without him laying eyes on another horse.

Steph seemed really to have found her feet with Roger too, while he wasn't bad he does enjoy the beach so it prompted a lot of squeeks, shimmies and bounces which Steph quietly rode whilst having the confidence to have his head a little to enjoy his feedom.

The only shaky moment came minutes after I had been discussing the case of a horse caught in the quick sand in Australia. The bay of Mont st Michel is reknowned for 'les gallops' ,it's galloping trapping tides( it's such a huge shallow bay) aswell as it's quicksands so I'm always pretty cautious down there to follow the tracks other horses have obviously taken.

I had seen just this week that a woman and her daughter had been riding on the beach at Geelong in Australia when her horse had suddenly sunk into the sand followed by her daughter on her horse. She had immediately left her own horse and gone to her daughter's aid extracting both daughter and daughter's horse before returning to her own horse. Her efforts to dig her own horse from the sand only succeeded in making him stick faster and sink deeper so her daughter called for help and a terrifying three hours later they managed to pull the sedated and exhausted horse from the sand with a tractor. Pretty little arab it was , must have been breaking her heart watching the poor buggar thrashing about in attempt to pull himself free.

Tempting fate I was happily recounting this tale to Stephanie saying how it had served to reinforce my fear of the beach at Mont st. Michel when all of a sudden Charlie completeley disappeared beneath me, as if his legs had given way he collapsed on to his belly. I screamed and jumped off imagining he might be going under only to realise Charlie had been overcome by the crushingly immediate need to have a roll. With much hollering, gesticulating and relief he was rapidly dissuaded from squashing my saddle.

Now I should have been a little sharper to the likelihood of him doing this as he has attempted it with me once before in the woods and it is not uncommon for him to be drop to the ground as if shot when you're leading him down the garden , it's always after a ride when he's been untacked and is overcome by an itch that needs urgent treatment.

Anyhow Charlie got his roll in the end, as you can see by his happy ,smiling, sand covered face and furthermore we got him back in the trailer only moments before a ' possssible woman' appeared around the corner.

Does my bum look big in this?

Fri, 24 Feb 2012 14:27:21 +0100

Does my bum look big in the this?

Answers on a postcard NOT required, or desired.

(Is it actual possible my backside is the same size as that of a fat horse, it must surely be a trick of the light.)

Other exciting news about the place aside from the apparent expansion of my derriere.

Are;

The dogsbody has now completed work on the hangar, started in the snow( spy Pete under the tape).

He will commence work on the kit plane over the summer so that we intend to be able to offer rock bottom discount flights across the channel to Normandy in time for the World Equestrian Games due to be hosted round these parts in 2014.

Dogsbody could well be returning to England for part of 2012. Pease take a look at his site to see other wood type things he is capable of making incase you need some work done:

www.wychwellwoodworking.yolasite.com

Mini has had more kids, you are now invited to make a reservation with deposit.

Previous batch of clones pictured which presents fairly accurate picture of them in 6 weeks time.

Grab this exciting opportunity while it lasts.

Charlie had made progress, he has come to the the conclusion that small jumps do not need to be followed by humungous bucks and is bumbling along like a little fat gooseberry as opposed to dancing around like a peforming bear.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eWh2zBUVtZY&feature=youtu.be

And lastly Donut has grown her hair!

That's all for this week folks!