Friday night was a big event for us. We went ten pin bowling with Len, Lashes, Big N and Len’s family. Can I just have it on public record that I love Len’s family.
There’s none of the squabbling, eggshell walking (which I’d got off to a fine art), bitching, lying or trauma that we used to have with TTF’S family. I’m so glad to see the back of them, and him.
So. Back to last night. We bowled. We drank pitchers of beer and we laughed. A lot. Laughing has been in short supply round here lately so it was nice to relax and put our worries on one side for a little while. There was much hilarity at the sweet vending machine at the end of the bowling alley. It looked like it was full of sweets to me but the sign on the top said ‘Beaver’. So, apparently, for only 20p you could eat beaver. Boofuls said he’d have a pounds worth!
This morning, while we weren’t exactly up with the larks, we did get our act together enough to get another ton of gravel for our drive. During the shovelling and spreading out of said gravel I happened to look up and down to the bottom of the track and spotted four very large, distressed looking horses at our front door.
WHAAAATT? How? Where? The horses haven’t been put out for the summer yet, where the hell did they come from?
Velcrodog looked at them as if to say, “What’s up with them?” I’m glad he didn’t go down to investigate. These horses were seriously spooked and in no mood for boisterous dogs. Boofuls shut Velcro in the van and then moved it to a position that would prevent them from bolting up the track. Then he phoned their owners – who were out. Of course they were. It would have been far too easy to have them on the spot. I wandered slowly down the track towards the horses, talking gently to them as I went.
Half an hour later. I’m still cooing to the sodding three remaining horses. Devoid of any kind of bridle to grab hold of, all I could do was try to coerce them into following me. I tried to stack the odds in my favour by chopping up a couple of my Sainsbury’s ‘Taste the Difference’ apples to tempt them with. Maddeningly, they’d follow me up to the gate and then all turn round at the last minute rather than go through it – straight back onto the drive. Clopping rather too close to my feet with their big hooves than I was comfortable with. Clumsy oafs.
We repeated this process about four times.
Eventually, we did manage to get them into the field and they trotted off without so much as a backward glance, leaving us to continue spreading the gravel down the track as per our original plan.
And they say it’s boring living in the country. The excitement never ends!