I had planned to boast to you of the wonderful weekend I had jumping Turnip and Red at Brecey. However as I frequently find it's best not to make predictions of success.

Last Monday Red and Turnip visited Gavray and jumped very well, I arrived home glowing not just because of their perfomances but because Mr Gavray had invited me to use his holiday gite and stabling in exchange for working some hours once I have relocated back to England.
By Wednesday morning I  had truly lost that glow as I could barely get out of bed, let alone walk. It seems that Peggy had managed to make me slip a disc in my back. After jumping my back is frequently a bit sore, as a result of an injury some 10 years ago, that resulted in a crushed vertebrae. When Peggy jumped around whilst I tried to lead her away from her mum it must have been the final straw and popped something out of place. I endured Wednesday or rather the dogsbody did, I have a faint recollection of parking myself on the bed Wednesday night and telling him, rather, wailing at him that I wanted to die. Sadly, I really meant it, I suppose it goes to show I'm not very good with pain. Being on a lucky roll the doctors are shut on Thursday, and I must admit that by Friday morning it wasn't feeling half so bad, but it still seemed worthy of a trip to see Dr Jelly.
If you  live round here you may have been lucky enough to encounter Dr Jelly and while I have no doubt that he is a very well-educated man, well-informed doctor and has a work ethic to make me baulk there are certain aspects of being a GP that he appears to struggle with. You certainly wouldn't describe him as hands-on, he goes to great lengths to avoid personal contact. If he has to listen to your chest he very self-consciously feeds the stethoscope down your polo neck all the while making embarrassed little coughs and nods. So it was fortunate that my condition didn't require any clothing to be removed as it would have been dreadfully awkward given the positions I had to assume. After a few limbering exercises of standing on tiptoe and then on heel,I had to attempt to touch my toes while he took measurements of my abilities. This was followed by my having to repeat the exercise  while he stood behind me taking further measurements, this didn't strike me as particularly unusual at the time, although in later discussion I realised that I had been placed in rather a compromising position.
This was followed up by movements on the couch, I seemed to pass all the tests required of me when I lay on my back but I was then requested to roll over onto my front, from experience I knew this wouldn't be so easily done. Halfway through the rolling over procedure I got stuck with my bum in the air and my face buried in the pillow, I was overtaken by  the hysterical laughter of embarrassment while tears of pain roll down my cheeks. It was more than Dr Jelly could handle; he hopped about from foot to foot ducking and flapping, nodding and squirming all the while accompanying his strange little dance with coughs and chirrups of reassurance that I should take my time. To be honest a hand would  have been more helpful but that wasn't forthcoming. I'm being unfairly mean here  because Dr Jelly did reward my efforts with a prescription of umpteen pills for pain and inflammation that seem to have been very successful.
It's now over a week since I initially became crippled and I'm back to riding, despite being a bit uncomfortable it is a major improvement on last Friday. I did have 48 hours of sliding drastically backwards but I think it was perhaps self induced by overzealous yoga stretches. So I am now being particularly stupid or valiant and planning to take Turnip back to England this coming week to do his first novice of the season at Broadway. Though I imagine if this weather continues Broadway won't be running either;


While my back was too crook to ride we took Blackjack to his new home at Cancale, about 1 1/2 hours from here.He has gone to a fledgeling riding school, Centre équestre des Douets Fleuris,run by a young man as beautiful as Blackjack himself;

 they will make a handsome couple.
I think to begin with this summer he will be used for riding on the beach

and he hopes this Autumn to start using him for lessons. He needs a lot of work to start as I sold him unbroken as I seem to have enough on my plate at the moment one-way and another.We wish in the best of luck in his new home and I feel quite humbled by all the hard work the young chap has put into starting his own establishment, even down to building the first stables himself. It was a great excuse for us to enjoy a day at the beach, luckily the weather wasn't too bad, we managed to dodge the showers, have a yummy seafood lunch and take the dogs for a lovely walk afterwards,

past some very pretty houses.


I bravely risked the saddle on Wednesday, Roger was nominated to babysit me. He was on best behaviour as I had given him lots of clouts the previous few days for being rough with me on the lead. My back had been so bad I couldn't tolerate any rough-and-tumble at all, mostly confining myself  to the house to do small DIY tasks. Having survived Rog I thought I'd be brave and take Turnip over to the forest at St.Sever, strange that sounds Turnip is always more settled when I ride him away from home, I suppose there are genuinely interesting things for him to look at, he doesn't have to make the demons up as he goes along.
When I pulled up to park ( the dogsbody came with me to help me get on), we were met by a fabulous little black and tan dog that reminded me of Pete. He was about the same size and had very similar mannerisms, the long goofy legs that flapped out the side as he ran. On closer inspection it was much finer than Pete with dainty little legs and exquisite little head. I noticed that he was entire so while I was tacking Turnip up, the dogsbody asked his french owner if he was available as a stud dog. The old boy who was obviously proud of his hunting, he was all still in all his hunting garb despite it being well past the season, informed us the dog was not his and that he had found him the month previous, lost in the woods. Despite adverts and contacting the police no owners had presented themselves so he had claimed the little fella as his own. He was only too delighted to hire him out so I'm very excited at the prospect of making some mini Pete's next time Mini comes into season. It's just rather a shame we didn't begin the conversation looking for a lost dog but he seemed to have bonded pretty well with his new master.

The ride the woods promised to be fantastic, the smells were fabulous thanks for to the rain and the rays of sun made it pretty as a picture until..........
 We were halfway round, wandering up this beautiful avenue of trees,

luckily on the waymarked bridlepath, when  a massive dog  came barrelling down the track in attack mode. It was a massive mastif cross dog without collar or lead being walked by a man in forestry uniform. It came hammering down the track at Turnip, who very fortunately is brave and bold about this kind of thing.
I started to panic but didn't want to turn back incase the dog gave chase.  After a few calls to the dog illiciting no response the owner looked worried and chased after it.By now the dog was right  up to us and threatening to jump at us, but fortunately the guy arrived too, causing it  to turn back and go to him.
The guy then beckoned me past, but as I approached the dog threatened to jump again, baying all the while. Turnip wasn't convinced and nor was I. The big mastiff dog was hunting or petrified or maybe both, either way it's flashing yellow eyes were  vicious and ready for attack.
I enquired if the dog was safe to pass and was reassured that "yes, indeed, the dog was safe".  Still no collar or lead in sight to restrain it. As we began to pass the dog it launched itself at us, loosing itself from the bloke. Again the bloke managed to get it back and hold it by the scruff of the neck but as we stepped forward it made another lunge forcing the bloke to jump on top of it,still all the while smiling and encouraging me past. So timidly we stepped towards them but it leapt up throwing the bloke off so that all he could do was grab a back foot and be dragged towards us.
 Turnip and I had seen enough, I yelled over over my shoulder  that we'd find another route,so I took the road round and back past the  little cottage from whence man and dog had obviously come, since when I passed it was baying at the gate at Turnip and myself while he patted it on the head telling it to be a good dog.
I was totally furious as it wasn't the size or type of dog to have out of control with no form of restraint to hand. I'm damn sure if Turnip had had me off the bloody thing would have had me and whilst the bloke might have been very sorry it wouldn't have done much to repair my face or neck or anyone else's that the bloody thing had decided to turn on.
 Full  thanks and credit to Turnip that on occasions like this he is incredibly bold, brave and ( surprise surprise ) sensible.