I am a city girl transported to the country, but always, I have thought, retaining some of the city inside. Today I was told that I am becoming a farmer. The reason was hay and just how much one little cob and one small pony seemed to have consumed over this last, cold winter. My hay was delivered – and stacked! – last summer. Now it is running out, the grass is not growing enough and anyway I will be on laminitis watch with Rosie over the next few weeks. So today meant a trip to the local mart, to check out the hay on offer, make sure I got a good price and stuff as much as I could into the trailer.
Mission accomplished. Price is still horrendous, €4.50 a bale. He had started by asking for €5. He managed to persuade another customer to help me stack the bales, while he merely tossed them down from his lorry. They both managed to persuade me that I could safely drive home like this. I successfully dodged a bull that got loose among the jeeps and trailers that were thronging the car park. And home I went, to unload and stack at home, with a patient husband helping. Who needs the gym when they have ponies at home?
And all that great loading work I did with Ben? He saw me hitching up the trailer and disappeared to the far side of the track, herding Rosie in front of him at the gallop.