March 2009

I’m back.
I had a bit of an accident. Yes a horse was involved, but I’d like to point out – for reasons of pride – mostly, that I did NOT actually FALL off. I was already on the ground – standing up – lunging said horse, who was NOT one of mine.

Some Alpacas were also involved. In fact they were the ones who suggested to the young, highly suggestible horse I was lunging, that he try doing the Highland fling using me as the sword on the ground.

I’d never been unconscious without the help of drugs before, but I can tell you this; I can’t see it taking off as the next ‘must –do out-of-this-world thrill seeking’ adventure in time and space. The marketing alone would be a nightmare.

Anyhoo, as I mentioned I’m back on planet earth now, and, as my dear Aunt Jen  cheerfully pointed out to me as I moaned about the damage done to my two remaining brain cells, “My dear girl, with that sort of impact, they’ve probably split into 4 making you twice as smart”.

Of course My Mother was down here in a heart-beat anxiously checking for signs of life in between organising the cupboards.

Then my dear friend Roz came down and pronounced me as abnormal as ever.
So now, 6 weeks, a few broken ribs and a battered ego later, here I am, alive and well and an avid proponent of Cranial Sacral Therapy.

D I Zeuss informs me he is investigating the course of the accident and someone will be held accountable. He was glaring at Flossom – who had had nothing to do with it, as he said this.
“I have to find the black box” he said, noting the admiring gazes of the two Abyssinians.
“Zeuss”, I said, “I wasn’t flying.
He gave a little cough and, looking at Grommart and Sticky to make sure they were listening, he held up his paw to silence me and began, “I take it, “ he said, “At one point, before connecting with the ground you were flying through the air”.
“I can’t remember” I said.
“Ahhhh  well , now then, it can be said and let the record show,” he said, motioning Flossom, who was busy washing her backside,  “that you did indeed at one point attempt to take off before crashing to the ground “.
The Abyssinians clapped gleefully.
“By the way”, said D I Zeuss, “What time is dinner? I fancy a snack”.

As Usual D. I. Zeuss Booster is taking the investigation very seriously.
He sat strategically on top of a gate post at the edge of the alpaca paddock.

“OI YOU LOT” he boomed imperiously throwing his unbelievably loud Siamese voice out across the paddock.
The alpacas, who had been quietly grazing, stopped in their tracks, then bolted in all directions before bunching together in the middle of the paddock.
“What the hey was that?” they whispered in awed tones. “I think it was God”, one of them said.

The voice floated across the paddock again, “Where were you lot 6 weeks ago on a Monday afternoon around 5ish?” it said.
The Alpacas looked at each other before the boldest one replied, “er, in the paddock your Almighty Highness on High Sir”.

Zeuss positively beamed with pride, he puffed himself up to his full height and looked around for PC Mooster who was busy chasing butterflies in the long grass. “Hey, Sticky, did you hear that? Now THAT is respect that is, these Alpacas know just who they are dealing with”.
Beside himself with the thrill of absolute power, Zeuss boomed, “LISTEN UP ALPACAS, I want you to, er, I, um, what I want is…” the Alpacas listened intently to the voice as Zeuss struggled to remember what it was he actually wanted. “I want something”, he blared finally, “and I’ll be back to tell you what it is”.

With that D I Zeuss, House God and now also seemingly, God of Alpacas, hopped down from his pulpit and joined PC Mooster in pursuit of butterflies.
The Alpacas, exhausted from their religious experience, settled down to chew their cud and cogitate on the events of the morning. “It’s not often that God visits”, one of them said.

Zeuss is now so full of his own importance; his days mainly consist of making sure that everyone knows just how important he is.
“OPEN THE DOOR” he blared at me through the cat flap, “YOU DON”T SEE GODS USING CAT FLAPS” he insisted as I motioned to him to step through.

“GODS NEED FUEL”, he roared at me this morning as he sat next to me as I worked away at the computer. “AND PLENTY OF IT”, he said, opening his eyes wide to give me the full benefit of his clear blue eyes.

Then he stepped delicately across my keyboard and anointed my face with a Holy slurp before settling down on the floor in a stream of sunshine, usually claimed by Flossom.

He was snoring sonorously when Flossom clambered in through the cat flap, took one look at him, lying sprawled in a most ungodly fashion in her patch of sun and decided to sort him out once and for all. She sauntered up to him and walloped him across the ears with a fat furry paw.
“Let Sleeping Gods Lie”, roared Zeuss before returning the clout.
‘God’ and Flossom were unceremoniously dumped outside, where they glared at each other for a minute or two before embarking on a vigorous paw washing exercise.

I had the opportunity to take The Phantom to the beach with my NBF Caroline and her beautiful young horse Bounce.

You would think, that as it was The Phantom's first ever time at the beach, he would be in a state of awe over the wide sandy expanse and the roaring ocean, however The Phantom’s interest was taken up with Bounce, or, more specifically, the fact that he is a ‘Paint’ horse with large splotches of chestnut and white.

“Crikey”, said The Phantom, when they were first introduced, “did you choose that suit?”
Bounce looked at him blankly.
“Or did your Mother make you wear it?” said The Phantom, trying to let Bounce know that he didn’t blame him.
“Huh?” said Bounce.
“Is it patchwork?” asked The Phantom, feeling Bounces coat with his nose.

Finally Bounce realized what The Phantom was on about and reacted accordingly and the other horses all snubbed The Phantom despite his attempts to make friends.
“I was only saying…” said The Phantom sulkily to me later.
I may have to change his name to Faux Pas.

IN which I attend another AGM
I’ve been invited to a few AGM’s lately. I’d always thought AGM meant Absolutely Ghastly Moratoriums to be avoided them like the plague, but actually these ones have not been too bad.

Of course, when things like funding and finance are discussed, my eyes immediately glaze over and I start wondering what would happen if I ducked out, changed into a tutu and tap danced the length of the table. However, so far, I’ve managed to keep those urges under control and maintain; with the help of my schmart glasses, what I feel is a clever façade of intelligence, interest and awareness.

If I ran an AGM, it would be more like a big party. Actually it would be a big party.
That’s probably why I’m not the Prime Minister.

D.I. Zeuss was making enquiries from the top of the dog’s house.
Partly and Bludger sat neatly together, with their tails wrapped around each other, attentively listening to the furry detective who had established that the dogs were with me during the incident.

“So”, said D. I. Zeuss, “what, exactly did you see that Monday at 5 pm?”
Bludger concentrated on her paw and then bounced up excitedly. “I know, I know”, she yelped, “a Rabbit!”
D. I. Zeuss perked up, “a rabbit?” he said, taking out his notebook and jotting down the word ‘rabbit’ in large letters, “And what exactly was this, rabbit, doing, when you noticed him?”

“Running away”, said Partly gloomily.
‘Running away’ wrote Zeuss. “And would you recognize this, er rabbit if you saw him again?” he said.
“Well, we won’t now, will we”, said Partly.
Zeuss looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Bludger ate him”, said Partly glaring at her.
“You ate the suspect?”
“Well, technically speaking”, she said, staring up at the sky guiltily, “er, I may have eaten him yes”.
 
“Well THAT makes it Technically difficult to interview him doesn’t it?”
‘Suspect eaten’, wrote Zeuss, stopping to vigorously a spot behind his ear with a wet paw. “Okey dokey”, he said, “just going away to run some tests – some forensic tests”, he said importantly emphasizing the word forensic which he had picked up from a program on TV. The dogs looked impressed.

D. I. Zeuss charged through the cat flap and bounced up onto my knee. He threw his paws around my neck and buried a cold nose into my ear. “Just wondering,” he said, “What time is dinner? I’m feeling a bit peckish”.

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