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29 May 2010

Hope adds to the blog...

After 2 months of being a “normal” person, sans living with a busy vet ~ aka my best friend ~ and the show horse, my life had gone to a lazy routine of feeding the animals and mowing the farm, with exception to my 40 hour job! When Kim came home after her grandfather’s funeral, the silence came to a screeching halt! A frenzy of telephone calls, text messages and quick visits, quick meals. Kim is home! Soon, the accelerated start of my UK adventure!

Flying on a buddy pass, which always leaves me with a doubt of my actual travel time, Kim, Sherman, Sydney and I bolted out of the house at 10:30 on Wednesday morning to catch an early flight to New York City. Originally, I had planned to leave at 10:45 p.m. which allowed me time to unload a truckload of feed and finish mowing grass, but not now! The volcano has made European travel very sketchy, so when news of the giant beginning to rumble again made the skies an unfriendly host. We rushed to Atlanta to leave Sherman and Sydney with Kim’s parents and then to the airport only to find that we had arrived one minute AFTER the cut-off for checked bags. Thankfully, there was a flight leaving in 2 hours to London Gatwick instead of the originally planned London Heathrow destination.

After settling into our Business Elite seats (SWEET!), we were off. Before the first meal service was complete, Kim was cocooned into her recliner and I was enjoying my first trip in the front of the plane! Champagne? Why do we need Champagne just to sit down? Are we celebrating our seat upgrade? Becoming a formal team of elite travelers? All over a little extra leg space and a serving of warm mixed nuts??? Ok, I’m in!

As I follow our flight on the TV screen, I sadly leave the farm life with excitement of seeing Kim’s new life. Tate – would he be glad to see me? Would Kim’s roomates be OK with me crashing there? I wonder if I will see Mike and Emma? My mind was busy.

Landing in London. Off to the bus. While waiting, Kim’s buys me a cup of Americano. Nasty stuff. I always forget how bad the coffee can be in England…

We arrive in Cirencester and walk to Mike and Emma’s couple of blocks away. A very modern abode right in the middle of town. In England, most cities have very tight housing and a healthy respect for a central park. Families gather for daily walks to the green space, pet(s) in tow. In England, dogs are part of the family. They are always in the pubs, in the parks, everywhere! I absolutely love it… and as a side note, it is quite refreshing to see the heavy use of bicycles and so many people walking around.

Emma is running around like a mad woman, but manages to cook a wonderful dinner for all 6 of us. It was great seeing her and Mike for the first time in a while! After dinner, Kim and I leave for a quick trip to see Tate.

The Clinic and vet work. The clinic is impressive! More like a small vet school set-up. 11 vets work in the clinic which has a barn for stud work, another barn for clinic horses and an office/lab/surgery theater. With lots of turn-out… nice place! Very English with stone walls, fencing and even an arena!

Photos of the clinic and local scenery

Neston Park Farm. Absolutely wonderful… This is an old estate which is a “stud”. In England, the breeding farms are simply called Stud. So, Neston Park also has a wonderful set up as a rural butcher, gift shop, deli and petting zoo on one side of the farm, and in the older parts of the farm has several barns with horses, cows and goats. It is also used as a movie set!

Needless to say, I have missed being Kim’s tech. Being back on the road was a good feeling. I must say, though, that I have not missed her crazy schedule and like most of you, would like to see a frequently updated blog and receive a few e-mails from the English abyss. BUT, Kim is slammed. Imagine having to service a ton of the horses in the South Cotswolds, which her clinic does, with very few others vets in action. Every barn, every rider for multiple disciplines… it was crazy. The nights that Kim was on-call, she was taking a 1:00 AM trip, then a 3:00 AM trip, then an early morning visit to go along with the “normal” day of scheduled appointments. Kim was understanding of my vacation time though and dropped me off of her schedule to be a tourist. So, from her house, I walked into town and I spent one morning in Tetbury for a day of shopping. Tetbury’s claim is their platform of being the biggest antique city in the world ~ and it was impressive. Kim dropped me off a second day in Cirencester for a day of adventure with Emma!

The Barn (or Yard). So, On Cirencester day, Kim buzzed me around town for a quick orientation, and then she dropped me off in the central part of town. I went searching for contact saline solution! It is hard to find in the world of a national healthcare system… Then, after another horrible coffee, I met Emma and Mike at their house and we took Lilly to daycare and Amelia to school. Very Harry Potter seeing all of the kids in their school uniforms with blazers. Then, off to the barn! Emma and I went to see Maghony Chief “Mo” at his retirement pasture. He was looking absolutely great. Such a kind little guy. Emma shared that Mo is now best friends with the two people who live in the house adjoining his paddock – hey, everyone needs a buddy! He stands by his gate gazing into their house. Being a retired Rolex horse, I am sure he enjoys having his “people” around!

Afterwards, we went back to the main barn for me to meet Archie, Danny and Eli! These are some really nice young horses that Mike and Emma have started since their re-location to the UK. Definitely top quality!!

The barn is typical for a barn in England (or the US for that matter). Absolutely beautiful vista and a really nice XC set-up. On Tate’s stall, I see a “DANGER” sign. I laugh! But, Emma tells me it was there before Tate, they just left it there. Karma.

Back in town, Emma and I share a Ginger beer and she cooks another divine dinner! It was great! And great seeing the Winter’s happy…

Badminton. For those of you who have been to Rolex, Badminton is nearly the same event, but with a definite English flair in the attendance, trade fair and environment. The place was covered with people… and dogs! Badminton is a TINY town about 10 minutes from Kim’s flat (about 2 hours NW of London). On the days of the 4*, thousands of people descend into the sleepy village and spend their day on the Badminton Estate. The unusual things, to me, are that you can place a bet on the winner, and/or you can fly your airplane or helicopter to the event and park on their runway! Ah, to be rich…

Since Kim was working (and it was pouring rain) we opted to watch the live coverage of XC on TV and went to the event on Monday (a bank holiday) to shop in the trade fair and watch show-jumping following several mare checks and a Bangers and Mash (English Sausage and Mashed Potato) dinner at the local pub.

One final stop on the vet tour bus was the countryside of Wales. What a BEAUTIFUL place. After stopping in a Show Jumping barn - complete with a 300,000 gbp horse lorry (with 4 wheel steering – among other things) and horse swimming pool – we took a break along the Wye River valley, stopping for an evening at the magical Tintern Abby ruins.

London. After the busy start of the week, we make one final trip to the clinic for the carrot and apple offering to the Tate. Afterwards, I take him out for a hand-graze while Kim finishes up a weekend of paperwork. One of her housemates and clinic nurses, Ella, stops by and quips that she can’t believe how good he is. Five minutes after she walks away (and for the first time ever), Tate takes a good bounding leap away from me and strikes out behind. I see a flash of his English footwear. Asshole. Back to the stall he goes… nice…

Kim and I then take off for a mini vacation to Holland to finish my mission to deliver Sherman. On the way, we stopped in London for Hyde Park, the Royal Mews, the Tate Gallery, dinner, and a play at the Globe, the Shakespeare Theater! “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Quite a fun day!

Holland. For those of you who have never traveled with Kim, you will never be able to appreciate the pace. I find it rather funny, in a way, that every minute of it is so “fly by the seat of your pants”. As Kim says, run hard and you can rest in the train (or on the ferry, or on the plane) - you get the idea. So, at 5:00 am, we are running down the sidewalk of London to Liverpool Station. The London Tube. Then the National Express to Harwich. As soon as the train doors open, we run to the ferry. We rested in our bunk for the 8 hour cruise, and then we run to the train. Mind you, Kim thinks she is terribly far ahead of me and she is doing a nice collected canter down the ¼ mile gang-way. About that time, she turns her head to the right to see me pulling a Zenyatta - passing her with a smile. Luggage in tow. I just smile and swish my imaginary crop. She almost fell down laughing :0)

In the train, all you can see is a blanket of tulips, then small towns with the most bicycles in the world! Bikes are everywhere!! Double and even triple stacked in bike parking areas. It was amazing. After spending a day sightseeing at the Van Gogh Museum, the canal tours, the flower gardens, it is back to the hotel for a short night.

Sunday morning, we pick up Mr. Sherman P. Keeton from the Amsterdam airport. As we get off the bus, we see Sherman being walked around the cargo area parking lot. As we walk up to him, he blinks like he can’t believe his eyes! As soon as we get close, he knows it is us. He drops to his back and begins to cry. Although he had a miserable haircut, it was great to see him too! Evidently, KLM airlines didn’t know Sherman was on the plane, so after landing in Amsterdam (and a previous lay-over in Detroit), Sherman and Kim are FINALLY together in Europw!

Notice I said Europe. When we hustled back to catch the ferry, it was a no go. Sherman’s paperwork was out of sync with the clock, so Sherman and I had another night in the beach town of Hoek van Holland. Kim had to get back to work so she went ahead of us. However, our newfound bed and breakfast was delightful. After Kim left, I wandered the 2 streets of the city and found a place to grab something for dinner. And it had to be something that Sherman would also eat. Chinese! Ok, so in this little Holland town, it was me and a Chinese menu written in Dutch. No guesses there! After my best interpretation of a chicken, the Dutch lady at the Chinese restaurant served me a delicious chicken and broccoli dinner with a huge smile. She also offered me a small change purse and a nice set of chop-sticks, in a bag, to take home with me. Very friendly!!

The next morning, a traditional B&B meal of eggs and coffee and from my plate, Sherman was served toast and cheese! After a walk to the beach, my foot’s growing blister was glad to return to the ferry for our 8 hour return trip to England… then London, then Tetbury.

Home. Spent another quick night in Tetbury, spending most of my time packing, then Kim and I went to a good ole American institution for breakfast – McDonalds. The coffee, as usual, was terrible… on the marquee, they are advertising a “great line up” of American hamburgers! The New Orleans burger. The Texan Burger, The New York Burger. They all looked like something out of a horror movie. Nothing like any burger I have ever had!

A few minutes later, my BFF and Sherman were headed into the English countryside for another day of vet work and I was standing at the bus stop, watching 4 ducklings learning to graze. From the bus stop, it was back to Heathrow. Then a 10.5 hour flight home. The volcano was erupting, so the airline chose a path north. From the plane, the ¼” tall mountain spewing a steady stream of smoke looked harmless. The ground below showed another tale. Lava and ash have covered the ground and the lakes/rivers were obviously polluted. At the ocean, the mouth of a river dumped a mound of silt almost looking like aerial photos of our great Mississippi River. Below, you knew of the destruction. But to me, I’m going home and the volcano will not affect me again for a while…

After 2 hours in U.S. customs and baggage claim, I travel via Marta to Sandy Springs to collect Sydney. Back home we go for another adventure! Well, more like the reality of feeding animals and mowing the grass. But at least I will finally have some good coffee!

15 May 2010

For you, Holly (and other facebookers)

I think I have successfully linked my blog to my facebook page, so for you Holly, you can now just post comments on FB and not have to deal with the google log-in page to post :) Comment away! It'll motivate me to keep blogging!
Yes, I am threatening you all to comment... If not... you may end up with a steamy surprise!! *grins*

"The Queen's English"

First and foremost, Americans may speak “English”, but people in the UK speak “The Queen's English”. Following are some of the colloquilisms of the Queen's English that I have recently “learnt”.

**Take note, some of these may only be local colloquialisms and are meant lightheartedly and in good fun!**

A Diary is not equivalent to a journal, it's a schedule or calendar.

There is no such thing as a trash can, it is a rubbish bin.

Cars don't have windshields, they have windscreens. They also don't have trunks, they have boots. AND, they don't have floor boards, they have foot wells :).

One does not leave a car in a parking lot, but in a car park. If said car park has multiple levels, it is not a parking garage, it is a multistory car park.

Englishmen do not put their “ducks in a row,” in fact they look at you like you might have 3 heads if you mention anything about your ducks or them being in line!

Horses do not necessarily receive injections, they are administered “jabs”.

Mares do not foal out, they “foal down”.

In order to truly appreciate a snowy slope, one should utilize a “bumwhizzer.” That's right, a toboggan.

A street performer is known as a “busker”.

Nasal discharges are referred to as “bogeys”. Not to be confused with the American “booger”, though the connotation is identical.

Horses are not “painted”, they are “coloured”. In fact, most horsemen do not really even know what a “paint” horse is unless it is described as coloured or piebald/skewbald/etc. “Cobs” are very common horses who are often big headed (oddly enough since the smaller halter/bridle size in the US is a cob, between pony and horse/full) and frequently coloured and with feathers, quite similar to the expensive imported “Gypsy Vanners” marketed in the States.

The pharmacy at the clinic is a “dispensary”. If you mention a pharmacy, you are directed down the road to the nearest town to an apothecary/pharmacy to see a chemist/pharmacist.

There is no Diet Dr Pepper, but there is a Dr Pepper Zero!

Stainless steel travel mugs are oftern referred to as “American mugs."

Bananas must be the national fruit, or something, because people here seem to eat them like candy!

Wireless internet is not provided by a wireless modem, but by a “dongle” which is a USB device identical to a wireless modem in the US. And Wi-Fi is hard to find and expensive when located. Grr!

One does not ride in an “outdoor arena”, they ride in an “outdoor school”. Horses reside in “boxes” within a “stable” or a “yard” not in stalls in a barn. A boarding stable is a “livery yard” and individuals doing DIY care (very common over here as full livery is very expensive!) of their horses are individual “liveries”. Incidentally, horse wear “rugs”, not blankets, and lots of them. They also wear “headcollars” and not halters. One would use an “adjustable spanner,” not a wrench, to put in studs.

And some more basics, pants are “trousers” and underwear are “pants”. Not a good idea to confuse the two!

A “bap” is a hamburger bun. Shrimp are “prawns”. Zucchini are “courgettes” and squash are “yellow corguettes”.

An argument is a “row”.

“Ta” means thanks.

The “ and the @ are switched on the UK computer keyboards. Very frustrating!

A cell phone is a “mobile” and text messages are often referred to as “SMS messages”. It is not legal to talk on the phone and drive unless it is done hands-free. And, like in Georgia now, texting and driving is certainly illegal!

An ultrasound machine is a “scanner”. (pronounced "scanna")

2000 pounds is not a ton, it's a “tonne”.

A coaster is a “drink mat”.

One doesn't mail an item, but “posts” it to its recipient.

Someone is "stroppy" when they have a difficuly personality and are frustrated.

Horses are not referred to as "hot" if they are excitable, they are "sharp". Incidentally, if one mentions that a horse looks sharp, i.e. well presented, it will be mistaken for it being difficult.

Another expression for a brat is a "twat."

If one receives a strong reprimand, it might be called a "bollucking."


Of course, there are plenty more, and certainly different pronunciations of similar words, but I'll leave you with those and I'm sure I'll come up with more over time. Stay tuned!

10 May 2010

A visitor!!

At last, I have had a taste of home with a quick round trip to the States for a funeral, but on the up side returned with a companion for a week! Hope has come to visit and will post her adventures in this blog as well as I imagine she can cast a new light on my life with Tate in the great UK.

Among her accompanying me on some weekend visits, she has explored the local towns, Tetbury and Cirencester; journeyed to Wales (to give a foal plasma, of course, but then enjoyed the Tintern Abbey and Wye River valley later); had a day in London to visit Hyde Park, the Royal Mews, The Tate Modern, and to see “A Midsummer Night's Dream” at the Globe; and the highlight of the trip, a journey across the country, the English channel, and Holland to Amsterdam for a couple days there for fun, and to collect a naked Sherman (someone got a summer haircut before leaving the states!)! So, I will leave that post to her as she's chronicled her adventures with my new (hot pink?!?!) camera that replaced the (lovely blue) one that drowned in the ford (a forever reminder of fords in the UK). Cheers!


Ford + Ford + Ford = At least 1 FORD too many!! (and thus 1 less in this world!)

So, my initial adventures with the old adage of “Found on Roadside Dead” or the classic “Fixed Or Repaired Daily” in the FORD mondeo simply rendered me helpless in an English town with a malfunctioning clutch. I thought that was trying enough, but apparently I would have been mistaken. That was a classic American stranded tale with immediate rescue by the chap who owns the garage who sold the mondeo with dying clutch to the practice. In hindsight, that wasn't so bad, though it seemed so at the time.

Anyway, back to the point. So, on one of the first lovely spring mornings, I had finished checking mares in the clinic, was*gasps* running early to an appointment (yes, my ability to run 30% late and on veterinary time is still well intact 4000 miles from home!), and cheerfully following British Daniel (my Sat Nav, or GPS for my fellow Americans) to my first call at, you guessed it, Ford Farm. As I traveled through the countryside, I questioned British Daniel's route as it seemed a bit roundabout in that I excited the main road for a country lane (yes, one of those lovely single track roads that is apparently not frequented often by cars as it had a lovely strip of grass growing up the middle!), and then seemed to re-emerge back onto the main road. But, alas, I figured that British Daniel must know more than I, so I blindly followed his route off the B4040 and onto the country lane. Cruising along, the road was narrow and the hedge quite close to the wing mirrors, but it was not unlike so many of the English roads that I traverse on a daily basis. I then came round a bend to find a sign that said “FORD” and another thereafter that read “Test your Brakes”. A ford, I thought, wow, we don't have those in America. For those of you wondering, yes, a ford is a place where a stream crosses the road. There is a roadbed laid within the stream, but there is not a bridge.

So, I slowly drove forward, ensuring that my brakes were in working order, saw a depth meter sign in the water which read less than 1 foot. At that point, I did think twice about turning around, but saw cars on the other side of the ford, the road emerging from the water on the other side, the shallowness noted by the depth meter, and had British Daniel's conviction that I should proceed. So I did, for about 15 feet at which point the car began to gurgle and stalled out. Hmm, I thought, I should maybe reverse out of this stream and go back to the B4040 and carry on through the town. So, I turned the key to restart the engine and was met with an attempt to start, but nothing further. No luck. So, seeing some chaps on the opposite side of the ford with work trucks, I decided that I might get out of the car, trudge over to them, and ask for their assistance in pushing the car out of the water.

I was in for quite a shock in the next moment because as I opened the door, water poured into the car. Oops. I slammed the door, and then decided to escape out the window in order to avoid taking on any more water. So, I shimmied out of the passenger side window to be greeted by waist deep (yes, that's right, the water was up to the bottom of the window) ice cold flowing water. Needless to say, the blokes were not keen to help me push the car out, but with some persuasion, were willing to use their truck and a tie down to attempt to pull the car out of the water. In my estimation, once the car was out, it would start right up and I could carry on with my day. Simple, right?!

Wrong again! Just getting the car hooked up to the truck was an adventure as everything on the front is plastic! The bumper, then the “grill”, and even the undercarriage at the front is plastic. Where was I to put the hook of the tie down??? So, soaking wet already at this point, I went for a bit of a “swim” under the car to find the axle to which I then attached the strap. The truck groaned against the weight of the car in the water, the handbrake, and the fact that it was in first gear (all remedied by another trip into the water, a slither through the window, and another shameful wading ashore) but in turn, the car began to move and was at last on dry ground. I thanked the chap who had pulled me out, and carried on with my plan to restart the car and move on. Soaking wet, maybe, but at least I was out of the ford. Well, once I opened the drivers' door, water poured out of the car. With each door that I opened, water poured out of every orifice imaginable! Even the ashtray and cup holders were pooling ford water. Grr! At that point, I tried to start the car and was met with the same whine of the engine.

So, what to do next? Instinct once again says “call Dad,” but I thought better of it as it was 4:30 AM in the States, and really, what would he do for me? So, I called the practice, mentioned that I had driven through a puddle (ha, ha) and that the engine had sputtered out (pun intended!). They suggested that I call the roadside emergency number on the back of my fuel card. So, I did, and once again, I didn't know where I was to give them the exact location. So, I walked to the house next door, asked the post code, scheduled a rescue and set out to bail out the car.

An hour later, the rescue vehicle had not yet arrived, the car was bailed out, but everything was soaking wet. My kit in the boot (or trunk as we might say in the States) and my scanner (ultrasound machine) managed to stay dry thank goodness, but my bag of personal things including my camera, jacket, Toggi boots, lunch, etc was dripping wet. I pulled it all out, and set everything out in the sun to dry while I waited... and waited... and waited...

Though the day looked sunny and springlike, as is customary in the UK, the temperature stayed chilly. Without cloud cover, especially after a night of rain, the air is very chilly despite abundant sunshine! Darn evaporative cooling effect! It was 5 C and I was soaked through. With each passing quarter hour, I stripped another layer and laid it out to dry on the pedestrian bridge alongside the ford. And, like a daylilly, my clothes and I followed the sun as it advanced in the sky. 3 hours later, a HUGE tow truck appeared, barely able to traverse the steep hill and bend required to get down to the ford, and the car was loaded onto the flatbed (imagine the water that poured out from under the car as it was hoisted at a 45 degree angle onto the truck) for its trip back to Tetbury and the Car care centre utilized by the clinic for its fleet maintenance.

Thankfully, I live about 1/3 mile from the garage, so I had a lovely jog home, squishing along, to change clothes and to be rescued by one of the office staffers in the interns' car that I was to use for the rest of my day's appointments which had been shifted to the afternoon and well into the evening hours.

Finally, I was dry, driving, and off to appointments. What a day!

But, wait, it's not over yet! I managed to see a laminitic pony in a small yard on the southern edge of the practice when I got a call about a colic that would be on my way back to my next call. No problem, things were looking up! So, I did have to call the clinic to find out how to put the interns car into “R”, but no matter, I played the “dumb American hasn't driven many manuals” and all was well... until...

I went to pull into a HUGE roundabout and realized that the car seemed to lack power steering. Hmm, that's strange I thought as the radio was still on, my gauges all read normally. At that point, I realized it had stalled out, so I went to recrank the car and the darn thing wouldn't turn over. Horns blaring, angry Brits giving me the “peace sign” (more on this later), and morons in Land Rovers hopping the curb next to me to get around me and into the round about, I called the practice again for advice. I was met with the classic, “I know this might sound girly, but have you run out of petrol?!?”. Ok guys, I may not be brilliant when it comes to UK driving, but really, the gauges are the same and incidentally I had plenty of diesel. Thank goodness I hadn't filled it with petrol (as it runs on diesel fuel!)!

Once again, I had the pleasure of calling the roadside assistance service. They guaranteed me a visit within less than an hour since I was not in an ideal location. Yea right! Meanwhile, the pony is still colicking and I was 15 minutes away. So, in fine style, the practice called the client and asked if she would mind coming to pick me up in order to ensure her pony was seen within a reasonable time period. Of course, having a colicking horse, she was quite willing to come and retrieve a stranded American vet with enough kit to diagnose and treat the colic. Imagine her surprise as I tried to explain my locale stuck in the entrance to the HUGE roundabout.

Thankfully, though, a nice chap in an RAC van (similar to the HERO units in Atlanta or AAA) appeared, and though he was not my rescue, he kindly hooked up the car and towed me around the roundabout and into a lay-by where I would be able to leave the car, with keys on the tyre, for the rescue chap to find and assess the car whilst I worked on the pony.

In the end, the pony was an accidentally bred as a yearling and was a coming 2 year old who was post foaling and just quite sore. The client then drove me back to the car where the rescue chap had assessed the car as irreparable on the roadside, and loaded it for its return trip to Tetbury. And, you'll never guess... it was the same bloke who had rescued me from the ford that morning, even though I was an hour from there, out of his territory, and nearly 2 hours from his home base. Wow... small world becoming smaller every day!

After another lovely wrecker ride and jog home, dry, but after dark this time, my day of car killing was complete!

(Sorry for the lack of photos, the camera drowned! More to come, though!)

Long time...

So, it has been at least a month since I last updated the blog. March 10th, I believe the last that I chronicled my journeys. I am constantly reminded by a good friend that more than a month, and now nearly 2, between updates is completely unacceptable! I'd be inclined to agree, so I will attempt to be better. The entries that follow will thus be a compilation of “days in the life” :). Happy trails!