We returned from a lovely ramble - okay, dance - round the fields in the sunshine this morning. Titch had stopped shoving me round his box and was nuzzling my face.
Me: What do you want?
Titch: Well, since you're offering, a bit of grass? Just ten minutes? After all, it was my birthday yesterday (it was) and you forgot ( I did).
So I slip on his head collar, and hold the rope while he grazes on the patch of grass by his stable. With the sun on his back, he looks very cheerful
Titch: (between mouthfuls) So have you decided what to do with me yet?
Me: Not really. I suppose we could stop tearing about and concentrate on our flat work.
Titch: You mean, all that going round in cIrcles, and sideways and backwards, like some silly mare?
Me: That's about the sum oif it.
Me: Too right it's boring. They do it in the Olympics, though.
Titch (brightening. He'll do anything for a bit of fame) : Are we good enough?
Me: We're both hopeless, and you know it.
Titch: Shall we just carry on as we are, then? I like it here.
Me: I like it here, too.
And this is so true. After the kind if week I've had (absolutely appalling. Don't ask), being around the horses and the horsey people makes everything so much better.
Titch (who can be quite wise sometimes, and who knows me well): I thought so. Got any carrots in the car?