Defecation, A.D.D. and Goldfish

Arrival at the farm of tipperary was achieved on a friday. After a wander through Thrules, where a book and a meal were acquired I was unceremoniously picked up by the boss lady with a honk of the horn and a 'come hither post haste' wave followed by what could have been a hollywood chase scene through the irish countryside, zipping around tractors and slow drivers in the mistubishi lancer, only we were only being chased by lateness and persuing lost time.

The farm itself is simply that, not flashy in any sense at first glance, quite typical, it seems, of the surrounds. It is a farm based on 17 or so horses that are bred, sold and used to teach riding skill and for horse rides through the shire-esque (of hobbit fame) green rolling hills, little paved lanes canopied with leaves and green fields dotted with ancient walls and mounds covering ruins long forgot.
'This sounds wonderful!' one might say, 'Absolutely divine, how lucky you are to be in such a place!' one might amble on.
Yes it is pretty and horses are very nice, if you like irish weather which consists of constant cloud and the perpetual rain, if not in typical 'rain' form, then in humidity, on the ground in the latest puddle design or 'my clothes are still wet from three days ago' shape. And of course its wonderful if you like horses.
I liken them to cats, rather fickle, a bit unpredictable and irritable. While I like (most) cats, imagine a cat that is 300kg, has muscle to match and does not want to move from its bed, even though it has defecated everywhere (... everywhere), and it decides its grumpy today.

While I do not have much experience with horses it seems the effort involved with keeping them (over 10 at least) far outweighs the fun. I would rather a husky team, dogs are so much simpler.

Anyway, I am learning much about horses and how to handle them, which is going slower then i would like, as I am looking on while helping out with a Pony Camp.
After the day of cleaning, running round with humans half my age that seem to never stop talking on completly inane and pointless subjects, have the attention spans of a goldfish sadly afflicted with severe A.D.D. and keep stating facts like they are discoveries (Its Raining! Thats a big horse! I Fell! etc) I retreat to my caravan unit thing and cook too much bad food and queue up old music on this tiny laptop with its crappy speakers. For I am the only worker here doin the wwoofin gig since the two others left so once again I must keep myself sane by myself. I dunno if i can last 4 weeks.

That said, I am having a pretty good time.

In other news I must decide whether to return to my much loved country after a detour in Asia and be home before christmas, or try to get a job in Scotland, most likely forfeiting my ticket home and come back in january, in the next few days.

Hmm!!