Rosie; About Time I Introduced Her ....!

Here she is.This is my " Rosie ". The most gorgeous Cob mare in all Eire ~ and to hell with anyone who tries to argue against that fact! She's absolutely fucking beautiful, and that's all there is to it. Even if she was in foal, wearing her winter coat, had been having a roll in the mud and her mane needed a fucking good brushing ..... But, that's how ye seeing her here. I, of course, see so much more of her.

I see her with her coat brushed and shining. Her mane brushed till my arms are dropping off. Clean and spruced and, most of all; Moving! (Click photo to see rest of her. Fuck knows why it does this?!)




People; Ye'd better believe me when I say that seeing Rose move is enough to damn near stop ye heart! I've had her since November now and I still can't get over just seeing her move. It tightens my chest and catches in my throat every time. So Much beautiful horse, gliding along. All flowing, white mane, feathered feet and black and white ..... Movement! It's just breath taking!





Here's the other side of her, just so ye know. It's not right to hide either side of a horse like this. My Rosie has nothing to hide. She's gorgeous all round. I'd show ye a shot of her bum; But That would just over whelm ye and have ye sliding out of ye chairs in a swoon. Ye think I'd shit ye about a thing like this ....?

When I had the vet' out, to micro chip and draw up Rose's 'Passport', She was so taken, she simply had to exclaim, " Oh! What a Beautiful Bum! ". Telling ye; This mare Is a fucking show stopper!

Anyway, I can already see this becoming a Loooooong one. So I'd better kick off with the story right now. Obviously, I intend to break it down and come back to it over time. Just look on each post about her as being a new Chapter. Here's the first one:

I was born and raised in Portsmouth. That's a shitty little city right down at the arse end of england. Dockyard town. Seemed like 1/4 of the population worked in the Dockyard. Probably another 1/4, or more, of us were settled Gypsys. And almost a 1/4 of the place was still 'Bomb Sites'. There were spaces, amongst the houses, where no one had yet thought to build flats. Or drive a fucking great road through. Horses and carts, even then, were nothing to to think twice about.

And so it was, at age thirteen, I'd started developing this notion of getting the fuck out. I figured the best way of doing this was the only way I knew how. And, being a recently made Fatherless kid? I knew Fuck. Obviously. But I still had my natural instincts. That which was simply born with me. In my blood. And something in those instincts beckoned me to get out on the road. Turn the clock back and return to my roots.

Hell of a fucking idea, eh? Get myself a horse and vardo. Head off over the bridge out of Pompey and, somehow, just get on with it. Hey ho.

And now, a word about " Vardo ". It's the Romani Gypsy word for what You might term a " Gypsy Caravan ". Ye know the old horse drawn ones? They're actually known as a vardo. Gypsys, in england, still retain remnents of what was once a full language. Only, these days, we struggle to express ourselves to each other through a handfull of mutually remembered and understood words.

The pronunciation is a bitch too. In writing, that is. But, it just fucks me off to think ye might all end up reading what I'm saying, in ye heads, with the wrong sound. So, I'll try to explain things to ye:

" Vardo " may, equelly well be spelled as " Varda ". It's the end bit that's most important here. Just like the " Dicklo " I have, tied round my neck as I write this ~ and should sincerely hope to have, as I get popped into the burning box.

My mate, " Moucher ", I have seen spelling " Dicklo " as " Dickler ". It's all down to any given persons effort to express word sounds not normally encountered. Probably a bit like the 'Perfect Grammer' French, I imagine, they teach in schools. Bit different, I dare say, to what ye might hear on the streets of a provincial, French town?

So, anyway; Vardo is pronounced, as best I can explain it, with the VAR like in Reg Varney. Or VARnish. The last bit is 'Throw away'. It's Not " Doe ", or " Da " or " Der ". It's more like " D ", followed by a sound ye've lost all interest in. As I about have in trying to teach you bastards a 'foreign' language that likely means fuck all to ye any way. Just read it how ever ye want. Like my " Ye ".

Now, where the fuck was I ....? That's right: So, I'm stood there, leaning on an inner city stable door. We still had bits of open ground then. Local (settled) Gypsys tethered their horses there. Some had houses with garages out back, opening onto small roads. They made those (back) into stables. But this was an original stable yard. Just off the main road. Dealer boots, a dicklo and the right parantage were the passwords into that place.

And I'm stood there, having expressed my ideas to some guy I found there. (Oh; And he wore the right sort of hat too. Cross between a Trilby and a Fedora. In case any film production sort wankers ever read this. Get it right, FFS!) And ~ Finally getting round to my point here! ~ This guy's saying to me:

" Want a vardo, son? Nice little Open Lot, or Bow Top would do ye. And ye'd want something like This to pull it ..... " And, with that, he nodded. I looked. And there before me, in a heavenly, fresh hay scented stall, stood The Most fucking gorgeous, black and white bum. (Piebald, to give it its correct, not Gypsy but simply proper english, term) " Nice, quiet Cob mare. About 13.5 Hands. Not too big. But strong built. Good legs. She'd pull a vardo for ye. "

I decided, there and then; I was gonna get me some of That!