O is for Ostler

Ostler - n - a stableman, esp. one at an inn.

This morning, my duties as an Ostler took preference over getting anything remotely difficult or academic instigated.

Yup, mucking out Bar-Os was a useful evasion of doing the dreaded Legal Research, but alas, I must now plod on and try to get top-side of the tomes.

It is a little milder here today and the birds and squirrels are making the most of it and are keeping me amused. We have a moorhen who visits and is convinced that if he stands on top of the shed roof, he will somehow be able to shimmy down and reach the bird feeder tube, that is hanging on the side. Each time he tries to land on the bird feeder, he misses and finishes up in an undignified heap on the floor.

One of the squirrels thinks that he is a 'chad' and peeps over the fence at me whilst I'm typing, with just his cheeky face and paws showing. There are two robins having a territorial war near to Bar-Os' stable, rich pickings for birdies around there, lots of bits of cereal and a barrow full of horse muck, a veritable feast, well worth fighting over. The bird population has increased this last year or two, probably due to an overgrown Victorian walled garden that backs onto our garden, perfect sanctuary for wildlife. We have great crested newts too, courtesy of a natural pond that is just a stone's throw from our house. I dread to think what will happen to the little wildlife haven because the estate has recently been sold to a wealthy American who seems to ignore each and every planning rule going. I asked the local authority to put Tree Preservation Orders in place, but they refused and acres of ancient woodland have been felled. There are some very old varieties of fruit trees in the walled garden, including a mulberry tree, a medlar tree and some lovely old fashioned apple trees. I have a feeling that their days are numbered and that it will all be bulldozed once the arrogant oligarch gets around to 'renovating' this area.

Oh well, must get on with my work...