There's no place like home

I'm indebted to thoroughbredinternet.com, an excellent website which I read daily, for the information that a week or two ago a meeting at Mount Barker (WA) was lost because of a plague of locusts. This, seemingly, happens from time to time in the Lucky Country, and I recall a few years ago a fixture at Clare (SA) succumbing for a similar reason. However, I can't recall this happening in the UK, and it certainly won't happen here in the immediate future, with the country, or south-eastern and central areas anywhere, muffled by the worst (freezing) fog that we've had for years. It makes me relish even more than usual the prospect of battening down the hatches for Christmas. There's an old Norwegian / Viking / Lutheran / Minnesotan (I can't remember which, but it will be one of these as I recall it from a Garrison Keilor monologue) saying that there's no place like home when you're not feeling well. That's true, but irrelevant (I'm pleased to say) in this case just now. But there's also no place like home at Christmas, and there's no place like home when the weather is bad. So the prospect of a nice quiet Christmas at home is a happy thought. The fridge and pantry are both full of food, and the boiler appears to be working well so we'll have plenty of hot water and a warm house. For company we'll have fourteen horses, two dogs, one indoor cat, several outdoor cats, plus one who is neither indoors nor outdoors (Giant). And we have an empty muck-hill, plenty of feed (mostly cool mix), 80 or so bales of shavings, 100-odd bales of hay so we can withstand the siege. Great - and if there's plenty of racing on the tv (which can't unfortunately be guaranteed), then that will be the icing on the cake.

But first we have two outings. I'm not relishing having to go anywhere as conditions for driving will be very bad and the roads will be very full, but Kempton Friday and Wolverhampton Saturday are trips to relish, with Timmy and Millyjean running at the former and Mozie Cat at the latter. Pantomime Prince should also have been readying himself for the trip to Kempton, but the eliminator decreed otherwise. January 3rd is his next possible race, and that would be our next possible outing, so we can pull up the drawbridge for Christmas week. We should have three good shows from these runners, but that, of course, certainly doesn't guarantee any wins. The way Mozie feels at the moment (terrific) suggests to me that she'll either win or refuse to go into the stalls - but of course there are any number of things which can go wrong, so I'm certainly not taking anything for granted. If all three horses run creditably and safely, and all connections are come away proud, satisfied and optimistic for the next venture, then we'll be happy.

The current weather conditions, incidentally, are the perfect climate for reading the novel I'm currently enjoying, 'Birdsong', by Sebastian Faulks. I don't know that 'enjoying' is the correct term, because there's something rather grim about immersing oneself in the full awfulness (a colossal understatement) of the world of 1917, but it is an extremely moving book and I really look forward to each opportunity to pick it up and read another section. This ghastly weather we have at the moment really makes one further appreciate the hell the soldiers endured: it's bad enough that we have to go outside and work (in relative safety) for a few hours before retreating back indoors for a hot bath, a good dinner and plenty of sleep in a warm, dry, clean house, so to be exposed to the elements with virtually no shelter other than a wall of mud, and with grossly inadequate food, for the entire winter is shocking - and that's not even considering the far worse situation of being shot at, shelled and gassed throughout. It really makes one appreciate what terribly fortunate and truly blessed lives we lead, irrespective of whatever worries or setbacks we inevitably encounter along the way. Which is a thought I'm very happy to hold as we approach Christmas.