Hey fellow writers, check this out 5 Common Writing Hazards.  Handy stuff.

And now to go completely off topic… thought I’d take the time to share my experience of Boxing Day morning.

I own a miniature horse who, unfortunately, has to live elsewhere. I try to get there as often as possible, it’s just a touch tricky with a small non-walking child. Anyhoo, I do insist on keeping up with basic foot care (for everything else, he does live on a property where the property-owners also live, so he survives okay). So, yesterday that was my task – hoof-filing.

Topaz, the other mini I look after for part of my paddock rent, was the easiest to find, so I did his feet & a good grooming first.  He’s older & pretty well behaved, so all was well. To get to Chino (my mini) I had a choice…  I could go back to the closed gate I had come through, followed by another  closed gate.   Or, I could cross the paddock I was in and loop up through the open gate between the paddocks.  All I had to do was cross a wet patch where water from two or three springs flow down the paddock.  I wear boots when I work with the horses, so all good. Open gate won.

& the result?

Spring 1 Deb 0

I headed across the paddock, assessed the wet patch to find the driest-looking part and put my foot down… & down.  Luckily my jeans bunched over the top of my boots, keeping my foot dry, cos I was in it up to a little below my knee. My left foot didn’t go quite as deep, but its boot, too, was well stuck.

First step:  throw all my gear onto some dryish ground.

Step two: Pull left boot free, as it was the closest to somewhat firm ground.  This required gripping the top of the boot with my fingers, since there was no way it was coming with my foot of its own accord.

Step three: With left hand offering some balance on the soft, soaking ground, & right hand under water & pulling boot, I managed to, eventually, pull my foot  (boot still attached!) free & clamber onto dryer ground.

Phew!

I even managed to keep my temper in check.  I was pretty peeved through the whole process (esp as the property-owner watched the whole process. But there wasn’t anything he could do to help, anyway –  I think it was just embarrassment temper).  My jean leg was soaked through with mud, but so be it. Nothing a washing machine can’t take care of.  But, I did still have four hooves to file, & a disagreeable horse on the other end of them, albeit small.  Ah, such is life.  A couple of scraped knuckles later, (I forgot my gloves the rasp is SHARP)  & a bruise on my thigh from Chino getting away on me once, I returned to motherhood – the land of dirty nappies & food everywhere.  Joy.

Well, if nothing else, I hope this gives someone a chuckle.

OK, you lot, go learn writing stuff…