Wednesday, December 13, 2006


It's been a rough old couple of weeks. As far as my life has gone so far over the last 45 years it's pretty much the nadir. Oddly enough, the one thing that I thought would bother me more than anything has been the easiest to deal with. We're talking and I'm sure we're get through it OK. Thanks for all the messages of support, much appreciated, and I can probably speak for both of us there.

No, like some kind of shitty osmosis, high pressure woe seems to attract even more to it and I'm now leaving a trail of destruction in my wake. First there was the accident. On Saturday while I was on my way down here, in fact not 15 miles from "home", a bloke in one of these tried a rather ambitious overtaking manoeuvre on a greasy road and approaching a bend. He passed the Mercedes 100 yards behind me, then the Mondeo right behind me but his bottle went as he approached my rear. To be honest, he was going so fast that I hadn't really seen him until he filled my wing mirror (although I'd seen him a few miles back at a junction) while he prevaricated over whether to finish off passing me. There was enough road but he decided against it, went to pull in behind, braked, clipped my rear bumper and spun/cartwheeled into the ditch at around 80 or 90 mph. I was doing around 45. We all stopped and watched in amazement as he climbed out and staggered across the road with just a minor headwound. I've actually emailed Westfield to congratulate them on the integrity of their vehicles. His name was Paul, he was very magnanimous about it and now he's 30 grand down. There's superficial damage to my car, just a minor fleshwound, so I won't be compounding his misery by claiming. I do wish people would keep to their racing ambitions on the race track though; he was very lucky.

The worst thing to pass over the last few days has been just been closed out today. On Sunday morning I went to take some feed up to Chalkey, my nephew's little white Shetland pony. He didn't want to come down from the top orchard but we thought he was being bothered by the knee high mud-bath at the gate between the two fields. Understandable when you're a little on the short side. I decided to try and lead him back but was shocked when he turned his head round to reveal blood streaming down his right cheek, apparently from his eye. I yelled back for my mum to phone my sister and the vet because it was obviously going to need attention. Well, the vet came and was bothered. It didn't seem to be an injury, his face was clean otherwise, no muddy hoofmarks from larking about with the others. The eye was filled with blood and pus and it was leaking out from somewhere. Not pretty. He'd lost it and he thought it would need to be removed. This is not an easy operation as it involves a full anaesthetic and well, it costs a fortune, about £2.5k, and sadly Chalkey wasn't insured. The poor thing was already facing an operation to remove his penis because it had tumours on it but that was scheduled for next year.

It didn't matter. The vet went away saying he'd do some research to see if the eyeball could be saved as it was mystifying why this had happened. He'd come back Tuesday and left us some anti-biotics and painkillers. What was causing the pressure build-up? There was no sign of any other illness or injury, after all. Yesterday I went out early to see him and was bothered by his other eye. It seemed redder than usual but when he came towards the light it didn't appear too bad. When the vet saw him later he looked upset. The blood vessels in the good eye were now also swelling and it didn't look good for him. It wasn't an easy decision to make for Jen, my sister, but it was the only realistic one and yesterday was spent giving him lost of hugs and plenty of carrots. He'd been quarantined away from the other two horses because one of them had taken to licking his eye and if it was a viral thing we didn't want it to spread.

This morning Chalkey's short little life was ended and even my dad, who's usually as hard as nails around this kind of thing, was visibly moved. The Chalk (my own name for him) was only about 6 years old and was a rescue pony. The last three years had been good for him though and he was adored by everyone. He'll be missed.

5 Vegetable peelings:

Blogger Tennessee Jed said...

Yep, I would say you have had a bad week old chap. Just think of how much you are going to enjoy the good weeks to come.

R.I.P. Chalkey graze in God's orchard forever!

3:29 am  
Blogger Murph said...

wot jed said

9:30 am  
Anonymous Sharon J said...

I'm glad I made friends with the little 'un before it was too late. For a long time he gave me the evil eye and then suddenly, last summer, he decided he liked me after all and kept following me around. I'm glad I've got a photo of that :-)

7:18 pm  
Anonymous Steve Dix said...

Westfields are built out of a tubular steel chassis, so they're very rigid. I built a similar car called a Sylva Striker. However I didn't arse around with risky manouvres, because such a small car is often invisible in rear-view mirrors.

2:39 pm  
Blogger Cherrypie said...

You have been having a bad few weeks. I almost cried when I read that

Take good care of yourself x

9:29 pm  

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home