Listening to: Hancock's Half Hour
Weather: Freezing, light dusting of snow
Reading: Making Money (Terry Pratchett)
Teddy the Shetland pony came to us with a bit of a 'hard-man' reputation. He had duffed up his owner when she caught him by surprise while he was eating his tea (the equine equivalent of spilling his pint or looking at his bird, I suppose).
The haircut helped of course - a lovely thick coat, the kind you like to see in front of a log fire on a. . . errr. . . 'romantic' weekend.
And his mane is the finest Mohican I've seen since '77 (or Daniel Day Lewis, take your pick). While my son and stepson were here he became known to all as Mr T. I happen to know he's never been on a plane. "Pity the fool", "jibber-jabber" etc.
However, the image was shattered when I was rummaging through the desk for my cheque book, accusing Mrs TPF of hiding it (before I found it in my coat pocket - naturally). I happened to stumble across The Tedster's horse passport (he needs it to get served in pubs). There in big letters on the front was my little pony's name. . .
. . . hello Theodore!