Hovis’ Friday diary: ‘Unlike Elsa, the cold does bother us…’
Dear diary,
Firstly, Hoppy New Year! I hope you all had a lovely Kissmuss and that you made lots of New Year revolutions. I did think about spinning around and saying I’d be nicer to the Ginger one, but mid-turn I saw his orange glow and admitted I was kidding myself, so stopped. I have thus decided to abandon the revolution idea in favour of vague outline ideas with no contractual obligations (that sounds really posh, right? I nicked it off something I heard mum say to one of the other mums at the yard… I have zero idea what it means, but it sounded good…).
I have to say though, this year is already in the “gift receipt required so we can return it” camp of presents – along with the jumper Aunty Maureen got you. If it’s not chucking it down with rain and flooding the fields, then it’s freezing temperatures, snow and enough ice to ensure that we are stuck inside. Crazy Self-Employed Lady (CSEL) was briefly renamed Sensible Self-Employed Lady after she vetoed doing a reenactment of Bolero every morning on the car park, let alone the fact the fields could be used for cold water training by the SBS (Secret Bunny Service). She then got the crazy moniker back after she did however decide (along with mother, I hasten to add – she didn’t act alone) that one more clip before spring would be a good idea… in the middle of a snap colder than mother’s heart… I would love to ask if they are up to date with all their lady clipping since they seem to think hairless is the in look for the winter season, but frankly the thought of mother’s legs is enough to have me in therapy for the remainder of the year…
I was heartened to see so many of my fans comment I looked a little too svelte and lightweight in the photo that CSEL posted on Facebook, but mother was swift to suggest it was merely flattering lighting. I did wish to point out that when she posts photos of herself, if the adage is the camera adds 10lbs, then the whole of the UK Pepperoni must be taking a shot of her at the same time… I do wonder if those of you who feel I look too lean might wish to stage an intervention? Or at the very least send me food parcels?
Talking of interventions, we might need another one. For mini-mother turned up the other evening with an interloper. Yet another ginger one. What is it with the family obsession with ginger nuts? I admit in the wrong light those with questionable eyesight may feel I have a faint orange glow, but that’s just my halo gleaming. The pint-sized pain in the posterior is more orange than a TOWIE tan and then this small thing turned up in the same shade. Admittedly it was rather cute, although she did stick her tongue up my nose without even buying me a drink – she is in hallowed company as just about everyone does the same thing (Viagra being a notable example), so maybe people just cant contain their lust for my smexyness. Anyways, apparently the small ginger thing is a gift to granny and mini-mother and is called Rioja after grandad who is in heaven told mother to get her and name her that in a dream (it was his favourite red wine). Personally, I think the mothership is spending way too much time smacked off her boobies on some seriously high quality meds post- her kissing spines operation, but if she wants to add “talks to dead people” to her special skills section in her CV, then good for her. It’s not like there’s much else on it…
I will of course spend time training the new addition in the ways of the horse and ensure that she looks after my mini-mother to a standard that is acceptable to me. She is after all my foal and I have done a brilliant job of raising her to be a fine young thing to this point.
Anyways, I am off to chill (literally) in the barn while we all point out to her upstairs that unlike Elsa, the cold does bother us…
Laters,
Hovis
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