horsing around

Baby crabb and I put our country coats on and went to join grandad to support uncle jim today.


Uncle jim is my little (unfortunately I can only refer to him as little with regards to his age but certainly not his height-the height genes seem to have been stored in the back of the baby cupboard for his arrival into the world) brother and a true horseman.  I’m not talking thelwell shetland ponies plodding around a village green, no no, I’m talking about the big time.  I don’t sell myself as a horsewoman, I dabbled in ponies and village shows as a child but picking up poo when I’d learnt how to paint my nails didn’t gel very well; however, one must support ones family especially when baby crabb seems to have inherited the obsessive horse gene.

looking out of the window for uncle jim
looking out of the window for uncle jim

Running around the countryside following horse tails gives you certain brownie points when one day you could be head of the friends and family support team at the Olympics, especially if it’s in some exotic location where wellies and waterproof coats could be replaced by (off duty of course) bikinis and beach balls!  Fingers crossed!

wpid-img_20150308_201300.jpgToday the support team was rather depleted;  gran had decided to switch her barbour for a bikini and boarded a flight to spain to join cousin william.  But, in true mother style, she had packed a picnic for the boys, although todays picnic was more mr marks and mr spencer homemade rather than mummy expert caterer homemade!


There’s one other member of team uncle jim who I can’t not mention: winnie the dog.  Now winnie became part of our family in a slightly unconventional way.   Winnie, her mother and siblings were parked up (very technical horse box terminology) two boxes away at a weekend eventing competition.   Uncle jim spotted her on the friday night, tucked up in her basket in the box two boxes away; grandad spotted her on the saturday, tucked up in her basket in the box two boxes away, gran spotted her on the sunday, tucked up in her basket in front of the aga in the kitchen – and lets just say the rest is history!


She is cute and she is so part of the family and support team that she even has her own personalised coat to wear.  Grandad calls her his ‘society dog’ because although most people associate her with greengrass from heatbeat, apparently these dogs are all the rage, yar!
Brilliant blog posts on HonestMum.com


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