horsey

... horsey, don't you stop//just let your wheels go clippety clop. Oh, wait... 

No riding this morning for +2/3; instead it's now mid-afternoon as it's Pony Club. There were tears, and not just from +2/3. The instructor has one volume only (ear bleeding) and in conjunction with her no-nonsense attitude, unintelligible accent (at least to me) and 100-words per minute delivery I think it was a bit of a rude awakening for the assembled wee girls all wanting to join. Think Private Benjamin except with ponies.

I took Mr. John's advice and took some shots of the horses while freezing my knackers off wandering around Trent Park. They're a precious lot: wander up to say hello and they're all oh, you're my best friend, come and stroke my nose and give me a polo but as soon as you get a camera out they're off. Swines. 

As the pony-scapades weren't on until the afternoon we nipped into central London for some food and a speedy mooch. Alternative for today starting here.

Music for today: nowt, unless you count Horsey, Horsey.