Dear Diary, Loopy Loo was all over me like a rash after I won her a couple of red rosettes on Saturday but I soon put her back in her box….we can’t be havin all that nicey nice stuff, she might think I’m going to be “a good boy” all the time. And for sure that’s not hapnin…..no feckin way Jose….
She made a bad mistake first thing in the morning, so she was very lucky with how it all worked out. You don’t take a haynet away from a man because you’re rushin to get him in the trailer….there was always gonna be payback for that….
“I’ll give it to you in the box” sez she as she walked off with it, and then came back to do the finishing touches. “Will ya now…” thought I as we strolled across the yard, herself all delighted because “we’re in great time Joe, it’s only 7.20 and we’ll get there with plenty of time to spare before our test.”
Oh no we wouldn’t….
“Come on Joe!” sez she as I ground to halt at the bottom of the ramp. “Let’s go, come on, what’s the problem?” she pleads. The problem of course is that I’m not going in that trailer because she annoyed me so much over the haynet. Why should I? “Joe please, our test is at 9.20 and it takes way over an hour to get there, we’ve got to leave” sez she. But nothing fazes me, not the push backwards and the pull forwards, not the lunge-lead technique nor the get-him-off-balance-and-he-might-move-forwards job. I knew she didn’t have any help, I wasn’t going to oblige and she was screwed.
After about 30 minutes she ties me up to the trailer and disappears and she’s got something bright blue, crackly and highly suspicious in her hands when she comes back – “get up that feckin ramp!” sez she, wavin it at me, and I got such a fright I did. “Ikea! I love you!” she shouts, laughing loudly as she folds up the crinkly, crackly thing and throws it in the back of the jeep. We were off….
But of course we’re late, and only for the nicety of Countess Kyle and a lovely lady called Deirdre do we make it into the arena for the first test. I recognise the place, been here a few times now and I’m more familiar with the famous “spooky corner” these days, although once we get in the ring I still give a little shimmy as we go past, just for old times sake. I’m enjoying looking at myself in the mirrors – everywhere I go they tell me I’m fabulous, and for sure I am – but then I can hear her mutterin like mad. “P, P, P!” she’s sayin. “You want a pee?” I’m askin. “No the letter P, where’s the letter P???”
For godsake, as usual she’d taken off her specs before we went in the ring cos she can’t cope when it rains and she has no windshield wipers. She’s blind as a feckin bat, I’m not jokin ya. “Here’s feckin P!” says I, starting the right-turn I know should be coming next and, if I say so, doing a feckin good job of it too. Honest to god it’s hopeless, she can’t remember a thing, but we get to the end and I’ve done my best even though I don’t know why.
The Polo Mints come out, the haynet is hung up and now I’ve some downtime before we do it all again. A lot of downtime actually, because almost everyone else has gone home before we do our second test so I’m not feeling quite so inspired. Not enough people around to tell me how fabulous I am….I’m an artist, I’m a star, I need the adulation….
We get on with anyway and I feel I’ve been more than kind, especially considering what happened earlier in the day. But I haven’t forgotten. When she comes back with rosettes in her hand I have one last surprise. Because she had made yet another fatal error when she gave me one last armful of hay inside the big blue bag while I’m waiting to load. It’s not nearly so scary when there’s food in it. Yes it makes crackly noises but it’s nothing to be afraid of, so when she leads me to the bottom of the ramp I refuse to load again, and this time she has no extra ammunition. And there’s no-one around.
“Please Joe, it’s time to go home, for godsake we can’t go through all of this again!” she’s pleading once more. So I drag it out for 15 minutes or so before a young lady arrives to help, makes a little clicking noise, and I stroll in cool as a breeze and giggling my head off. Job done.
Thing is, nobody’s gonna take me for granted. He who laughs last eh??…..