Yesterday – Monday – might not be typical; being the first full working day based at the new house, the temptation was to try and cram everything in.
You know, try and squeeze in all of the benefits of now working within commuting distance of home and horse.
So yeah, the day started well with the half-hour drive to the Park and Ride where I picked up the express coach. And the trip in to London was OK and uneventful but slightly too long. I think I might be putting my Superpower (sleeping on the spot) in to action, if I persevere with the coach as my primary form of transport.
And at the end of the day the trip to Oxford was equally OK and uneventful and still slightly too long. Go figure. We pulled in to the Park and Ride at Oxford with little warning which left me panicking to get myself, my rucksack and laptop all tidied up and off the coach without leaving anything behind before too much time had elapsed. It wasn’t quite like a racing pit stop but it felt as though it was.
The half-hour drive home from the Park and Ride was hassle-free too.
Soph greeted me with a cheery ‘Hiyer!’ (I can’t help wondering what the locals reckon to us) and a cuddle and a mug of tea and despite the day I’d had everything was suddenly well again.
After a little teamwork which turned a tubular steel Chinese puzzle in to some kind of storage device I got changed, climbed back in to the car and did the half-hour drive to Vin’s new home.
Vin, unsurprisingly, showed his displeasure when he saw me; pulled his ears back and gave me his best grumpy face.
I don’t think that was because he thought I might shove a quantity of worming paste down his neck again, like I did yesterday.
I think he was telling me how unhappy he is to be in a strange, new place with none of his friends; he was telling me he wanted to be back home. Hayley, one of the yard grooms, said that Vin had been whinnying for his friends all day.
I wish I could explain everything to him, in words or symbols that he would understand; but I’ll just have to try and win him round and let the memories diminish. But it makes me sad.
On the positive side he looks absolutely gorgeous. Being pampered, groomed twice a day and with his mane and tail beautifully smartened up… it agrees with him! As well as the hands-on care he’s being well fed and his stable is kept immaculately clean and tidy. I have no worries about how well he’s being looked after.
More positive news: his displeasure at seeing me was short-lived. After a couple of sliced apples he decided he quite liked me really, and whickered and whinnied for me whenever I bobbed briefly out of sight to fetch things.
I took his stable rug off, groomed and tacked him up and we rode in the indoor arena for a little while – just 20 minutes of gentle schooling. And he was pretty bloody good.
The large mirror at one end of the school showed me what I’d felt but not been able to see before; he really does try hard. And when we catch those special moments when his weight and balance are in perfect synchronisation with my weight and balance and he understands precisely what I’m asking for and his balance and bend and rhythm and impulsion are spot on… We capture – precisely capture – the epitome of correctness. And it looks good. No, it looks much better than good. It looks excellent.
Afterwards, after being groomed, rugged up and more sliced apples, I kissed his nose and drove back to the house where Soph greeted me as if my favourite dog had died and we had cuddles on the doorstep.
It was only when she silently mouthed at me ‘what’s wrong?’ I realised that the beautiful music I was still listening to had moved me so close to tears that actually – I was probably looking as if my favourite dog had died!
The mood altering music was the beautiful, captivating, enchanting, hauntingly brilliant Ára Bátur by Sigur Rós.
Over our evening meal we planned Saturday activities and then decided on an early night which involved much hugging, kissing and cuddling followed by an episode of Angel. Then more hugging, kissing and cuddling and very suddenly… sleep.
Not a bad first day, but perhaps I won’t try and squeeze quite so much in to every day.
How was yours?
B.
Hey Brennig! Good morning to you! I suppose at this hour of the day, it’s possible you have a nose-picking Vauxhall driver next to you. Or perhaps, for a change, a ball scratching Beamer-boy. Glad the move went well – happy new house to you and Soph.
Mya x
Vin will make new friends soon I’m sure, just like you and Sophie in a new place!
How was mine?
The motorways were a nightmare.
Work was dull.
Lunch was bland.
The journey home was surprisingly good… and then the wife informed me she had to go into work and I’d have to fend for myself.
And both kids kept me awake throughout the night with their incessant coughing and spluttering. Bless ’em.
Other than that, it was alright, I s’pose.
Mine was good, I worked hard all day and then went to the gym. I suddenly felt tired as I did my usual combat class and couldn’t put as much effort in as usual. Luckily the trainer felt the same and we did an ‘easy’ class, which was still pretty tough!
Was very glad to get home, have some food and cuddle up next to P and the cat:)
Mya, you old slacker! Fancy seeing you here! Thanks for the wishes. Hopefully I’ll learn where things like soap and shaving foam live now and shortly start to resemble a normal human being once more. Stop tittering at the back. 🙂
Trixie, new friends may or may not be welcome. But if the Oxfordshire Swingers Association doesn’t stop cold calling at the doorstep wanting to know if the two hotties who have moved in are interested in the odd sex game or two (I don’t know how odd you understand), I’m going to get mighty pee’d off. 🙂
Masher! Motorways a nightmare? Work dull? Lunch bland? Welcome to my world. But at least we both get home in the evenings. Although you wouldn’t catch me doing parenting duties if you paid me danger money and tripled it. 🙂
Wendy Juniper, hello! Is the usual combat class a mortal combat class with a console or two? No? Didn’t think so. I gave up combat training when I stopped wearing a uniform. But there are times when I still wish I carried a side-arm. Like right now. That Oxford University student three seats down would be a different prospect if I had my way. 🙂