I still can't decide. I've had a (small) offer for him, but ....oh dear.
And then I had the following telephone conversation with my daughter last night (she of the club raid photo):
Daughter: Have you decided about the horse yet?
Me: Ooooh....I still can't make up my mind.
Daughter: Well don't, then. Hang on to him. Just don't fall off. We don't want you knocking out your next book with a stick tied to your head.
Isn't she sweet? I now can't get that image out of my head. Me, propped up at the computer in my wheelchair, said stick attached to my forehead like a miner's lamp, laboriously tapping out my next oeuvre, letter by letter, wishing I'd got rid of the bloody horse when I knew it was the right thing to do...
Talking of Titch, his new year's resolution seems to be to decide that tractors are terrifying. As I said to him, he's lived on a farm for the past three years. He knows about tractors. But Titch's motto has always been You Can Never Be Sure, and now that applies to tractors as well as everything else. We spent fifteen minutes dancing in the road while poor Lionel (who drives the tractor) waited patiently, with a queue of cars behind him. Another good reason for finding that New Home.
I wonder where you buy those sticks; the kind you tie to your head to write books? I must find out. Just in case...