Geezers.

This morning it felt as though the whole world was on holiday, except me. Which is about right, actually . It’s really hot and sunny, it’s the summer holidays but family problems mean it’s never going to happen.

So before the sun got in its stride, I set off on a jaunt.

I went for a walk over the quarries, to the old rubbish dump. Or, if you were in a better mood; I walked across some beautiful lakes enjoying the wildlife until I got to a hill, where I took in a beautiful view.

I had with me my camera and a bag of tired old carrots, to feed the horses.

I had ideas of taking a shot of a happy, grateful horse quietly taking a carrot from my hand, posing for me in a photogenic sort of way. Gentle, satisfied munching. I was wearing a (that) hat and even had thoughts of a picture of a horse wearing it. As with most things in my life, it ended in a riot.

I should explain, I’ve never ridden a horse, didn’t grow up around them, not entirely sure what does what or which end goes where. Last time I met a horse up close was about 30 years ago, up on the Black Hills of the Brecon Beacons – it bit me and tried to eat my soggy Kagool. As I said – riot.

And, these aren’t refined, genteel pony club ponies, with names like ‘Timmy’ and ‘Pooky’. They aren’t thoroughbred racers. They have been left there to tame a wild overgrown area and change its ecology. They are now a little feral. They are ‘geezers’.

These are streetwise, drug-dealin’, ragga-muffin, gangsta-rappin’, hoodie wearing, lean, mean, m@#&er*uck!?n wild horses. Did I say they were mean? Well they were. It ended in another riot.

So, I have a lot of pictures, a little blurry, a little distorted, taken walking backwards quite fast while juggling a walking stick, a camera and a bag of carrots.

These two – the one whose being bitten is about to start kicking back big time, which started some of the others off.

 

Then they came after me in a rush. Still, all the carrots got eaten, no one got hurt and I’ve made some new friends. I won’t bother with the other shots except for this one, who looks a bit like a young punk. Which is probably why I went to feed them in the first place.

 

 
Neil Harris

(a don’t stop till you drop production)

Home:       helpmesortoutstpeters.blogspot.com