Up and down with a nasty stomach bug. Not being terribly butch about it.
Here is a little photo essay to lift the spirits. My lovely, furry, muddy red mare is delighted by the arrival of spring. You’d never know from these pictures that her grandsire won the Derby. But although I love her in the summer, when she gets a sheen on her coat and looks as posh as she in fact is, I almost love her more at this time of year, when she is at her most scruffy and delightful and real.
Now going to lie down again. Really feeling most peculiar.
Those pictures were taken yesterday, as she was celebrating her return to the Big Field. I have not brushed her since. Some grooming fairies came in the night and did something miraculous. Also, I love how she has resumed her completely demure demeanour, as if that crazy hooley had never happened: