Hi, I think I am just having a mid life crisis but I have always wanted to write a book or a blog. My whole life evolves around the horses as my girls ride so it was fairly much a foregone conclusion that this would probably be my source of inspiration. I have written the first 2 instalments, please could I have some feedback as to whether I need to not give up the day job or whether I could have some fun with this. I am not looking to earn money, just maybe give someone a chuckle over their afternoon cuppa xx
Happy Humpday to you all.
I'd intended on spending this week minding my own business, enjoying the rather marvellous new stable fan giving me a blow-dry worthy of a viral TikTok hair transformation and conducting a thorough quality inspection of the latest hay delivery.
As far as I was concerned, it was shaping up to be a perfectly respectable Wednesday.
Naturally... the humans had other ideas.
For those of you I haven't had the pleasure of meeting, I'm Lily.
Nineteen years old, Welsh Mountain Pony, blessed with a glossy black coat and just enough sass to keep everyone around here in order.
Thanks to my exceptional organisational skills (and the alarming inability of everyone else to function without supervision), I find myself wearing many hats around here. I'm Yard Manager, Babysitter, Therapist, Forage Quality Control Officer, First Pony, Second Pony and all-round Pony Club legend.
According to Mother Hen – otherwise known as the Chief Fussing Officer – I'm "a bit on the cuddly side."
Personally, I prefer "well insulated."
Whichever it is, around here everyone insists on calling me Fat Lily.
This week has been a good one so far. One advantage of this hot weather is extra food.
Boss Girl, who used to ride me all the time until her legs grew too long and her dreams grew bigger than my little legs could manage, has been making us great buckets of sloppy mash to "keep us hydrated."
Personally, I'm just grateful for four feeds a day. It's a perfectly acceptable bribe for the daily hosing down. Not that I'm a soap dodger, but honestly... who actually enjoys baths?
Boss Girl has been a little stressed lately, so I've been cutting her some slack. I haven't pooped in the water trough or my feed bucket for nearly a whole week now.
You're welcome.
Her horse, Nellie, has done something rather silly to one of her legs. There was a very large bandage, Giggly Vet, some serious faces, a bit of crying and an awful lot of talking about somebody called Tendon.
I don't know who Tendon is or what he did to Nellie...but apparently he means she doesn't get to go on the Party Bus for a while.
On the other side of the stable lives Rehy.
Now, Rehy is a devastatingly dashing Irish chap.
From this point onwards we'll simply call him Mr Handsome.
It seems only fair.
Anyway... let's move on.
He's ridden by The Ginger One, who also learnt to ride with me until, much like Boss Girl, her legs grew too long.
Honestly... what is it with these little humans? They go to bed one night perfectly sensible, then wake up the next morning another hand taller. Before you know it, their legs are so long they reach my knees and my little legs simply can't keep up.
Thankfully, Mother Hen promised I'd live here forever, so when Boss Girl and The Ginger One's dreams grew bigger than my little legs could carry, I simply found some new responsibilities.
A very sensible decision, if you ask me.
Anyway... back to Mr Handsome.
By all accounts, he's been doing rather well lately. He keeps disappearing on the Party Bus and returning with frilly ribbons plaited into his bridle, looking terribly pleased with himself.
The Ginger One says it means they're off to visit a Bishop at the end of the month as part of a team of young riders.
I haven't got the heart to tell her I'm fairly sure bishops don't live in fields.
The Ginger One has been practising for these important outings with Mr Handsome.
Unfortunately, Mr Handsome is only six and has discovered it's rather entertaining to perform every dressage movement he knows... apparently in the belief that if one movement is good, performing his entire repertoire all at once must be even better.
This generally results in The Ginger One becoming rather flustered.
Which is precisely where I come in.
Out come my dancing shoes.
While Mr Handsome is busy demonstrating his entire repertoire all at once, I become Mrs Unflappable.
I've been around the white boards a few times in my life and, if I do say so myself, I was rather partial to a bit of dressage in my younger days.
So I happily put on my dancing shoes and help The Ginger One polish every transition, every circle and every movement until she can ride the whole test in her sleep.
Somebody has to keep standards up.
Speaking of standards, it would appear a Yard Manager's work is never done.
We've recently welcomed two new members to the herd. Two young mares. More of the Irish contingent.
Apparently they arrived on a boat.
Who knew horses could drive boats?
I used to drive a cart in my younger days, but my experience of the sea only extends to beach rides and swimming with Handy Human.
He's the one who drives the Party Bus and then, for reasons known only to humans, changes into a funny black costume before wading into the sea with me. That's when I get to rest my head on his shoulder while Tiny Human sits on my back chatting away as though we've known each other forever.
At the moment, Tiny Human doesn't really ride. He has all the balance of a bucket balanced on a stable door.
He does, however, give excellent cuddles.
The two new mares haven't been here long enough for me to form a proper opinion just yet, and it's only fair that every horse gets a chance to make a first impression.
I'll tell you all about them next Wednesday.
For now...
I can hear a rustling in the feed room.
There's only one possible explanation.
It's my favourite time of day.
Until next Wednesday...
Please don't kiss strange ponies on the nose.
Especially if they're me.
Love,
Fat Lily 🖤🐴
Happy Humpday to you all.
As promised, I'm back and wow... a lot has happened in a week!
This week has seen several visits from Giggly Vet.
First on her list were our two new princesses, who both had their teeth done.
They're both five years old. Still babies, really. Old enough to think they know everything and young enough to prove they don't on a fairly regular basis.
They were so funny, snorting at all the equipment, but complete lightweights when it came to the sedation – like putty in her hands.
If only they'd listened to me. I don't bother with all that drowsy nonsense because it means no food for a while afterwards.
Silly girls!
After Giggly Vet came Hoof Human to pamper our two new princesses.
As usual, there was plenty of chatting, tea drinking and Custard Cream eating before any actual work got done.
I overheard Hoof Human telling Mother Hen that it would take a few visits to get all four feet looking like they belonged to the same horse.
What a funny thing to say.
Who else would they belong to?
New Girl, Fancy Pants – otherwise known as Nancy – is Nellie's younger sister.
Boss Girl is very excited and refers to them as The Vivant Sisters. She has high hopes that Fancy Pants will be just as special as Nellie and help her achieve three stars.
I never really did get my teeth into eventing. Far too dangerous and gallopy for my liking. I much prefer all my movements to be careful, considered and graceful.
The scoring makes no sense either.
Apparently, in dressage you're trying to get the highest score possible, but in eventing everyone gets terribly excited about coming home with the lowest score.
Humans really do have a remarkable talent for making perfectly straightforward things unnecessarily complicated.
Fancy Pants, however, appears to be the best of both worlds. Elegant and graceful one minute, then galloping off and launching herself over enormous hedges, logs and other perfectly avoidable obstacles the next.
The other new girl is called Nutmeg.
She's taking a little longer to settle because she's never really known human love before.
She's never had to dry someone's tears on her neck whilst quietly nuzzling away their worries.
She's never experienced the all-important lying-down cuddle.
She's never truly felt settled.
Home takes a little while to believe in sometimes.
I should know.
Before I found Mother Hen, Handy Human, Boss Girl and The Ginger One, I'd already had thirteen homes.
It was hard.
On my seventh birthday my family found me and, whilst I could only hope these would be my forever family, we ponies know that...
When their little legs grow, to a new home we go.
Until next Wednesday...
Please don't kiss strange ponies on the nose.
Especially if they're me.
Love,
Fat Lily 🖤🐴