November 29th
I am part of an ADVISORY GROUP for something important for which I am honour-bound to keep Top Secret.*

I have to turn up to meetings, look alert and try to look like I know what’s going on; I do it for my friend Caroline (the Caroline who does not have a horse), who is the Chair (and that’s not something you sit on, I learned) and she keeps me tuned in by saying things like “And I think you’ll find Cathy agrees with me on that one, don’t you, Cathy?”

Of course, I’ve no idea what it is I am agreeing to as I’ve been doodling all over the graph we’ve been handed to make it look a lot more interesting, but it gives me an opportunity to smile and nod and look over my Schmart glasses in a kind of supercilious, intellectual way at everyone.

Then I sit back and thank Gawd Caroline says this in a way that can only be answered by a yes or a no and she kindly gives me broad hints as to which it should be. If she ever asks me an open ended question about what it is we are discussing I shall have to feign a heart attack and drop to the floor.

I have to say, by the time the meeting is finished, the graph looks a darn sight more attractive and it even has an injection of humour – with the help of a Christmas fairy who looks suspiciously like George Bush, bouncing all over it.

I told My Mother I was part of the Advisory Group.

“Good grief”, she said, “How did that happen?” followed by, “God help them”.

*This may or may not be because I have no idea what I am part of.

November 28th
Sue and I took Nibbler and Footprint to a fabulous workshop with Scott O’Malley – a terrific local horse trainer.

There was a pile of other horses, so, anticipating the worst of Nibbler’s excesses, I equipped myself with the usual armoury – Buck detecting Ejector seat, Pullet proof vest, Anti-stupidity head gear, boots made for a long walk , pack containing enough food and water for at least 2 hours and my hair curlers.

“Why is your Mother dressed like that?” asked Footprint.

“I don’t know” said Nibbler, “But it’s so embarrassing I’m just going to keep quiet and hope no one notices”.

And he did.

 

November 26th
I picked up my new pair of Schmart Glasses (Myers-Irlen lenses) at last, and I never want to take them off. I can’t believe how clear everything looks! I’m at least 95% more cognizant in these.

There is one slight snag though; I definitely look younger and more attractive when I am not wearing them. I was aghast when checked myself out in the mirror; somehow I acquired around 95% more crinkles (along with schmartz) with the glasses on.

 

 

 

 

 

November 25th
I arrived at Sue and Andrew's place to find Nibbler in state of complete alarm.

Sue’s mare Polly had given birth to a beautiful little filly early in the morning.

Nibbler and Footprint were huddled in a corner of the paddock whispering frantically at each other.

I brought Nibs in and calmed him down.

“What on earth was all that about?”

“That new horse” said Nibbler, his nostrils flaring, “Did you see it?”

I asked him if he meant the foal; he did.

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

“The alpacas have been at it again”.

“HUH?”

“Footprint said it used to be a 17.2hh Warmblood” said Nibbler, his voice croaking slightly.

I rolled my eyes at him, as he continued, “They’ve let all the air out” he said solemnly...

November 24th
My Mother rang.

She’d been back to the doctor for the results of her heart monitor tests.

“What did he say Mum?”

“Well, he didn’t seem to say very much” she said, “But he did give me more pills”.

“Really? What are the pills for?”

“I’ve no idea” she said crossly, “I was only in there for 5 minutes”.

“That’s not good”.

“And I don’t think he said anything much at all”.

“He must have said something Mum”.

“Actually,” she said, “He may have, only I can’t remember”.

November 23rd
Nibbler is staying at his ‘New Best Friend’s’ place for a week.

I popped out to ride him.

The riding is heavenly, dirt tracks, no traffic and wide mown canter strips that go on for miles; we were in blissful harmony as we trotted along breathing in the fresh country air, when suddenly we came to an abrupt halt. Nibbler threw up his head and snorted loudly.

“What is it Nibs?”

“Over there” he whispered.

I looked but could only see a couple of enormously pregnant Clydesdale mares.

“The Alpacas are going round blowing up horses” said Nibbler, adding that Footprint had warned him about it, “and there is the proof” he said, staring wide eyed at the Clydesdale mares who came floating over to say hello.

“Nibbler, what on earth are you talking about?” I said; I couldn’t see any sign of a bomb blast.

Nibs bounced up and down, ready to flee at the first sign of trouble, “They used to be Shetland ponies” he said, his voice quivering with emotion, “Footprint knew them before they got pumped full of hot air”.

There’s only one horse in Cust that I know who is full of hot air and I’m going to have to have a word with him.

November 22nd
Nibbler and I did some cattle ‘mustering’ over the weekend with Sue and Footprint and a bunch of others.

I expected Nibbler to be full of himself so I was ready for anything (Bullet-proof vest, anti missile helmet, pink bats padding, toothbrush, hair curlers), however it was Footprint, not (for once) Nibbler, who provided the entertainment.

Once we’d got past an initial shock of a herd of militant alpacas who were staked out behind a hedge ready to ambush us as we went past, Nibbler decided he was out for a good time and if Footprint was happy to take over the necessary Stupidity side of things, he, Nibbler, would cruise around happily enjoying a big day out.

On the way back, with a herd of 150 confused cattle in front of us, having just waded out of the river, Footprint’s Stupidity levels got out of control and Sue and I decided it might be best if we forged ahead as cattle ‘leaders’.

Unfortunately, cattle are not known for speed over long distance and before we knew it, Nibbler and Footprint, convinced that this was a race, had outstripped the field and we had no idea where the cattle and the rest of the horses were.

In fact, we still don’t know what happened to them – they could be anywhere.*

*Except, possibly, Australia.

*We may not be invited to participate on the next cattle drive.

November 19th

The stack of weights on my journal is getting higher in my attempt to flatten recalcitrant pages.

On top of the stack, perched somewhat precariously yet somehow managing to look composed, lay Flossom.

She opened an eye as I walked in.

“Hi Floss, what are you doing?”

“Oh, you know”, she said, “Just some journalism”.

Erm, Floss, that’s not actually what journalism is”.

“That’s a journal underneath me isn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but that does not make you a journalist”.

“I think it does”, she said.

Zeuss jumped down from the couch and rubbed against my leg, “It’s no use arguing with the Press,” he said.

November 18th
The horses have got far too much grass. It’s making them behave like a bunch of teenagers at a party.

I asked Nibbler if he would mind posing for me so I could draw him. I was thinking of catching that beautiful aristocratic, regal look he gets when he is looking at something in the distance.

Instead I got this.

November 17th
Flossom has been very helpful lately.

I’ve been making a journal and she has helped me crumple paper to put in it as texture.

Now that I’ve reached the stage of needing to press it under a heavy weight, she has become invaluable, taking her job very seriously and certainly putting in the hours.

 

 

 

 

November 16th
Partly tapped on the door as we were eating dinner.

“Excuse me”, he said, “I wish to lay a complaint”.

Zeuss, suddenly alert, jumped off the couch, pushed the cat flap open and eyeballed Partly. “You’ll have to put it writing” he said, quickly ducking back in so the cat flap snapped shut.

Partly pushed his nose through the flap, “It’s about the House God’s Lecture Series” he said.

Brent and I looked at each other. “Lecture series?” Brent said.

We looked at Zeuss who was suddenly engrossed in washing his bottom.

I picked him up and held him to we were eye to eye. “What lecture series Zeuss?”

Zeuss looked up at the ceiling “Um,” he said, “That would be the Illuminati Series”.

I would have to talk to the other cats.

It emerged that Zeuss had organised a series of lectures, charged everyone a large entry fee, swept up on stage at his most flamboyant, waved a regal paw at everyone and promptly fell off the stage where he lay in a giggling heap refusing to get back up again.

When he finally managed to compose himself, he stood swaying slightly at the lectern and looking at his audience (a fairly large crowd composed of mostly cats and a few sensitive dogs) and cleared his throat.

“And that’s the lecture for tonight, Good night and thank you for coming”, he said.

“He’s been at the cat nip again”, said Flossom.

November 14th and 15th
We’ve put THE HOUSE on the market and there has been a pile of people who actually want to buy it!
Brent’s tools were lying around insolently doing nothing to help as we showed people around.
“Here’s the kitchen, here’s the bathroom and this here is the Lambswool Applicator” I said, in my new role as hostess with the mostest. There was quite a bit of interest in the Lambswool Applicator.
I explained how Brent had lovingly polished every floor board, patted every nail and macraméd great balls of wire into the walls.
I was remarkably *insouciant about the fact he’s driven me in insane in his quest for perfection, which was fortunate because at the rate Brent was wheeling and dealing, it was obvious that I was about to become part of the chattels.

*Insouciant is not a type of soup.

November 12th

Men; they never cease to amaze me.
We went to the first of a round of Christmas parties last night and at one stage I noticed Brent and bunch of guys clustered around oohing and ahhing over a sheaf of papers.
I wandered over to take a look.
They were looking at some plans entitled…’How to Build your own Backyard Jet Combustion Engine’.
There were even pictures of the various stages of construction including one of the finished product which looked like a big box.
The guys were entranced. “So…what does it do exactly?” I asked. They all looked at me with pitying expressions. “It’s an engine” said Bruce.
“Yes…but what is it for?”
“It’s a JET engine” said Neil, as if that explained everything.
Brent was pretending he had never met me before, and was strangely silent.
“But”, I continued, “What is the point?”
The guys looked at each other, “Well”, said Bruce patiently, “It’s a big jet engine that you can build in your backyard”.
I was tempted to get to the bottom of it there and then but Brent looked like he was about to be sick so I thought I’d better get him home. Obviously the guys are hiding something, those plans must be for an actual time machine, I mean, what would be the point of just building an engine in a box?

November 11th
The lambs were making a tremendous racket on the deck, it was only 6am. It wasn’t the incessant trio of foghorns, this time they appeared to have taken up tap dancing.

“Oh Good Grief”, said Flossom, covering her ears and rolling her eyes dramatically, “I told them rehearsals at six, I meant PM”.

“Rehearsals?” I said, “what for?”

Flossom stretched and yawned, “Our new stage show ”.

“Our? Who is OUR?”

“It’s a Possovitz and Beanstein production” she said.

Last I heard Possovitz and Beanstein were a legal team. “We’ve branched out” she said, casually licking a paw.

“So, this production, what’s it called?”

There was a muffled Siamese voice from under the covers - “The Good Sheep Lollipop” it said.

November 10th
Nibbler had a little attack of stupidity, during which I found myself on the ground trying to pretend that I was deliberately down there looking for a 5 leafed clover – as you do.

He was brilliant during the couple of hours we trotted around the side roads, never batted an eye when a bus load of noisy kids went past, appearing to be unaware of a hay baler working behind a hedge, and marching smartly sideways past a child on a trampoline, however, barely 5 minutes from home, after I had completely relaxed and was busily day dreaming, a duck flapped out of a bush beside us. Nibbler, who had also been dreaming away, obviously mistook the duck for a flying lion – as you do when you are a horse of little brain; catapulted backwards adding a flying spin for effect.

All would have been fine as I managed to stay with him only he’d also sucked his girth in and the saddle began to slip, with me, staying with it till gravity took over and I had no choice but to flop to the ground like a large fish.

After first ascertaining that no one had actually seen my fall off my high horse – (most important) and then checking limbs for breaks (not even a bruise) I realised that Nibbler was standing beside me staring at me in astonishment.

“Did you find it?” he said.

November 8th
There’s no such thing as The Silence of the Lambs at our house.

The lambs are being weaned from their morning feed and their protest can be heard from within a 50 km radius.

Things had started to settle and I had just begun work at the computer when suddenly the noise of cat flap being flung open with a bang followed by a foghorn-like blast which echoed around the room sending the cats and myself scattering for cover.

Lambo’s head looked up at me from its wedged position in the cat flap opening. “BAAAA?” he said.

Zeuss stared down imperiously at him from the safety of the top of the bookshelf, “And that”, he said, looking at the other cats, “Is what we FBI* Agents call a Suicide Bummer”.

*Feline Bureau of Investigations

November 7th
Nibbler has a New Best Friend.

He’s a large grey gelding named Footprint; they hit it off instantly when they met on the way to the ‘Le Plonk at the Beach’ ride.

“So”, said Nibbler, who was making a real effort to be charming, “Tell me, what do you like doing in your spare time?”

“Eating” said Footprint, who is a horse of few words.

“Really?” said Nibbler, genuinely astonished, “that’s amazing, I too enjoy a tantalizing morsel or two”.

“Clover”, sighed Footprint, “Yum num num”

“Ahh, I too am a Lover of Clover” said His Nibs, and he actually rhymed the word Lover with the word Clover.

November 4th
My Mother rang.

“I’ve lost the phone”, she said. I resisted the temptation to point out to her that she was on it.

“Where do you think it might be?” I said helpfully.

“Well, I think Free may have taken it by mistake”.

“Huh?”
“Well, she probably thought it was her cell phone”.

My Mother’s land phone is the size of a small airplane, there’s no way it would fit in a handbag.

About 10 minutes later My Mother phoned back.

“You’ll never guess where the phone was,” she said perkily.

I couldn’t.

“Go on, give it a try”, she insisted, I guessed a couple of places both wrong, “No, you’ll have to tell me”.

I heard My Mother take a deep breath and then there was silence. “Mum?” I said, trying not to panic. “Do you know, “ she replied, giggling, “I’ve forgotten now”.

November 3rd
Nibbler and I are going to the Cust Equestrian Group’s ‘Le Plonk at the Beach’ ride on Saturday.

Nibbler has been looking forward to it so much he has spent the week practicing for his various events.

The Phantom and Persil have been helping him prepare.

They think his best chance lies in ‘The Most Charming Horse of the Day’, and have been coaching him accordingly.

“My, you’re looking at least 20 minutes younger than you usually do,” he said to me as I went out to bring him in to work.

November 2nd
Our phone is a pain in the bum.

Not literally as it doesn’t, you will be relieved to hear; actually get to go anywhere near my bum.

It works (the phone – not my bum) on some sort of network that only people like Brent, my husband, understand, which means that if the weather is crappy – like today, it is very hard to hear the person on the other end.

I thought I had solved the problem this morning, as I picked up the box doodah that is normally attached to the wall and held that along with the handset as I talked to My Mother. She came down the line loud and clear.

“I had to give that Tidally Pom back to the hospital”, she said, sounding cross.

“Yes, they have to read it”.

“I don’t know how they’ll do that, it’s not a book you know”.

“They have machines that tell them all about what your heart got up to Mum”.

“Well it will be a very boring story”.

I said goodbye and hung up and as I was popping the phone box doodah back on the wall, I noticed a prominent sign on the back of it which said ‘WARNING do not use within 20cm of the human body’…

Nothing has happened …yet, but if I grow an extra eyeball I’ll let you know.

November 1st
Nibbler and I went to the beach with Bounce (and Caroline)and Dixie (and Marsley).

He (Nibbler) arrived at the float ready to go with some new beach wear – purchased, he said, off The Phantom, who has been to the beach more than once.

Despite first impressions, he was incredibly well behaved and we all had a fabulously blissful ride.

Nibbler fancies himself as a mentor to young Bounce who is usually all ears however this time Bounce appeared to be somewhat in shock at Nibbler’s appearance. He didn’t want to walk anywhere near him.

“He’s embarrassing me in front of Dixie” he said to Caroline, “I can’t believe he would wear that”.

Dixie remained unimpressed by either gelding.