Of Salt, Driving, Finding North, Rings and Things

I’m supposed to be writing an essay that in six years time will have contributed to helping me gain another degree, but I’m just pausing for thought to reflect on the slightly more unusual events of recent days.

Daddy quizzed us over our Thursday evening roast dinner about what was written on the salt. He offered rewards of up to £100 for getting the exact wording right in answer to his questions. But no one got that sodium hexacyanoferrate II was the anti-caking agent, so no one got a reward of £100! In fact, no one got a reward!

I discovered, on returning from mucking out the horses this morning, that the engagement ring Tim gave me some 15 years ago under a full moon in the Ogwen Valley has deposited the diamond somewhere. I don’t know where and it was such a strange thing to look at the ring looking like a skeleton, devoid of its gem. I took it off and now feel slightly naked without it. It’s a very strange feeling!

The boys were treated to a fencing lesson this evening. I had not arranged it, but one of my violin pupil’s father is a fencing instructor. I only discovered this at the end of last term and had mentioned to him that the boys had expressed an interest in learning to fence. So today he turned up with his kit, while I taught his son, and gave the boys a brief lesson in the kitchen. As we spent the day yesterday learning to carriage drive(this our Wednesday project), I think we’re experiencing more hands on history lessons that I had intended.

We had an amazing day yesterday, with an amazing lady who so generously shared her time and talents with us teaching us how to drive. Her little pony was beautifully behaved and left me feeling a bit hopeless that we can ever have Jackson so well disciplined. No. 1 Son is completely smitten by it, was really confident driving and enthralled by the whole experince and when we returned home he spent all his time reading the literature he’d been given to help him learn well. He’s memorised exactly how to put a horse to harness and has got himself so versed in the different driving techniques that he’s surpassed my small knowledge. Today his enthusiasm motivated action and he decided to long rein Jackson. But Jackson wasn’t so compliant, as Jackson sometimes isn’t. I found No.1 Son, who is fast approaching teens, trying to be very self controlled but fighting back tears of frustration. He handed Jackson over to the girls to ride and disappeared. I didn’t know where he’d gone and just as I was starting to worry about him, I found him coming down the track back to the house. He told me he’d been to spend some time with a well behaved pony, Taid’s Seren.

Little Miss Puddleduck rode her 8’1″ Shetland without him being led, today, for the first time. I think she misunderstood the situation and now thinks she can ride him any time. Her confidence always amazes me, but her youngster has a lot to learn before she can ride him properly. She doesn’t appreciate how green he is.

I measured all the ponies today. Haf, who’s still growing, stands at 13’1″; Jackson is 11’3″ and Sonny, well I’ve already said and what he lacks in stature, he makes up for in character along with his mistress.

So, hands on history lessons and maths aside, we had an interesting lesson yesterday when at the meal table No. 2 Son asked a sensible question:
“How do you work out where north is when it’s too cloudy to see the stars and you don’t have a compass?”
No. 1 Son told him that you look at where the moss is growing on the trees and in Britain it predominantly grows on the north side of the trees. This fact needs verifying. I don’t know if it true, but it sounds good. Daddy, however, told him to find a Muslim and ask him to pray. Then work out which way is north from the direction he prays in. I have to say this idea came to him after he told No 2. Son to find an old church and look at the direction the main window was facing, which should be east.

We do have some hilarious discussion at our meal tables. My breakfast was blessed with song – some really random old pentecostal hymn, which I now can’t remember. But the song concluded with me over hearing the singer, Tim, chuckling to himself saying, as he walked past, “Jesus Shaves”!

Now to tackle my essay – the suffering of Job – that’s not metaphorical, but perhaps explains why I’ve managed to procrastinate doing it by writing a blog post!

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About deerfeet

I am a home-educating mother of four children. We live on a small holding in Wales and my husband is active in local politics and the lead pastor of our church, Festival Church.
This entry was posted in Family Life, Home Education, Horses, Rural Wales and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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