I’ve got a bad dose of ‘New Year Blues’ and I’ve gone on a
campaign to try and fix it. I must admit it hasn’t worked yet.
Today after I came back from Tesco’s, I found that I had
(foolishly) ended up with far too many carrots. That can happen.
So I decided to struggle through the mud and puddles to where
the Punk Horses live. Rather, it’s the sons and daughters of the horses I got
to know so well last year.
They came running over, which is strange because when I used
to feed their parents I always avoided going near the foals because I knew it
would upset the adults.
Check out Clint Eastwood on the Mound.
For all kinds of reasons I don’t care anymore. I got used to
horses last year – they trained me up. Now I stand in the middle of the carrot fight
and I don’t care, a bit like being at a SkaSouls gig.
Anyway I’m not bothered about what could go wrong these days.
Oh and I wonder what this was?
Love the punk horses they deserve your carrots
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