Tuesday, 13 March 2012
Playing My Little Pony
Not the toy, of course, but the whole brushing and polishing and dressing up thing. It's why girls outnumber boys in the "I want a pony" stakes. We just love doing things to our horses.
So while with my daughter-in-law, it's shoe shops, and my daughter, clothes, with me, it's tack shops. Horsey Heaven. The smell of leather, the shiny new bits(I don't need a new bit. I've got one), the glossy bridles, the lovely colourful rugs, which stay lovely and colourful for just as long as it takes their new wearers to get out into a field and roll in the mud (ie about ten minutes); they are like magnets.
This week, I went to get a new back protector; dull, but sensible. They hadn't one that fitted, so I bought a beautiful new head collar; black and red, to go with Titch's colouring. I didn't need it - I have several dirty old ones, that do the job perfectly - but I wanted it. I really wanted it. With a shiny black rope to match.
I was quite excited when I put it on Titch to try it out, but it didn't fit (it had looked small, but I'd been assured that it was the right size).
"Serves you right," said Titch, as I struggled to get it off again. "Think of all the carrots you could have bought with that money!"
He's right, of course. For once. But what he doesn't know is that I shall have to go back to Horsey Heaven to change it. What a shame. And who knows what I may find there?
There may even be a pair of wings in just the right size...