Whats it mean when you hear ringing in your ears eminem,noise cancelling shooting ear protection headphones,ringing in the ears epilepsy surgery - PDF Review

14.01.2016
Just an update, this evening, after HE had come along to do late stables before going to bed.
Then we set off towards home, and I noticed that HE had stopped paying attention to me and was staring up at the trees in the hedge as we went past. One Christmas, when I lived back in France , we (all the horses in the stables) decided that we'd like to do something special to celebrate the holiday, just like the humans do. The last thing I have to tell you is how hurt I was today at some very unkind criticism from HER. Anyway, the weather improved by mid morning, which was nice because I had the best of both worlds.
The night sky echoed to the sound of the galloping hooves as the tall spectral trees flashed by down the never ending avenue. The rest of the day was a funny mixture of blue skies and sunshine and dark black skies and very heavy snowfalls. Currently the Mayor of London, he previously served as the Member of Parliament for Henley-on-Thames and as editor of The Spectator magazine. Johnson was educated at the European School of Brussels, Ashdown House School, Eton College and Balliol College, Oxford, where he read Literae Humaniores. On his father's side Johnson is a great-grandson of Ali Kemal Bey, a liberal Turkish journalist and the interior minister in the government of Damat Ferid Pasha, Grand Vizier of the Ottoman Empire, who was murdered during the Turkish War of Independence.[5] During World War I, Boris's grandfather and great aunt were recognised as British subjects and took their grandmother's maiden name of Johnson.
Try as I might, I could not look at an overhead projection of a growth profit matrix, and stay conscious. He wrote an autobiographical account of his experience of the 2001 election campaign Friends, Voters, Countrymen: Jottings on the Stump.
Johnson is a popular historian and his first documentary series, The Dream of Rome, comparing the Roman Empire and the modern-day European Union, was broadcast in 2006. After being elected mayor, he announced that he would be resuming his weekly column for The Daily Telegraph. After having been defeated in Clwyd South in the 1997 general election, Johnson was elected MP for Henley, succeeding Michael Heseltine, in the 2001 General Election. He was appointed Shadow Minister for Higher Education on 9 December 2005 by new Conservative Leader David Cameron, and resigned as editor of The Spectator soon afterwards.
A report in The Times[22] stated that Cameron regarded the possible affair as a private matter, and that Johnson would not lose his job over it.
The Conservative Party hired Australian election strategist Lynton Crosby to run Johnson's campaign. Johnson pledged to introduce new Routemaster-derived buses to replace the city's fleet of articulated buses if elected Mayor. I believe Londoners should have a greater say on how their city is run, more information on how decisions are made and details on how City Hall money is spent.
Ken Livingstone presides over a budget of more than ?10billion and demands ?311 per year from the average taxpaying household in London.
Under my Mayoralty I am certain that London will be judged as a civilised place; a city that cares for and acknowledges its older citizens. The Mayor’s biggest area of responsibility is transport, and I intend to put the commuter first by introducing policies that will first and foremost make journeys faster and more reliable. I asked him to have another look at his Christmas song but I didna ken that he'd have to do it all over again.
However, it's not all good news as HE still has to get HIS three computers to talk to each other wirelessly. You know ‘The Big Ship Sails on the Alley, Alley, O' (I know, but HE thinks it's funny) but then HE changed his mind and started on a new one about an old woman who swallowed all kinds of creatures, starting with a fly. Apparently HE had been on the telephone, on and off, with an engineer from the firm who made the gadgets for HIS wireless network, in an effort to finally get it working. Apparently he went back on the phone, after bringing me home, but everything the engineer advised him, didn't work. I thought that was a good idea because I love kids but quite4 a few of them thought that this would be beneath them as we were all thoroughbreds aiming to become racehorses.
Snow White would have been alright if we had had lots of small Wickies to play the dwarves but as we were all over 16 hands that wasn't possible.
Because we were late going out this morning we saw Faith (who was Harry's human) going out towing the horse box. I've just learned that Chester won't be staying, after all so who is going to play the fourth role in his pantomime, I just don't know. We had not seen a lot of him as he seems to be spending a lot of time behind the field shelter in his hoffice as he calls it. We were just on the last lap home from Ninefields tonight, just rounding the corner at the Y junction in Ramsley Lane when HE decided that we would trot home the rest of the way. But, in between the time HE arrived and the time HE came back from giving the old boys their buckets, some sort of change came over me. And not only the rain, the wind was howling through the trees on the hill opposite making the world sound the most terrible place to go out in.
I was able to stay out comfortably and there were some really good, deep muddy puddles to roll in. I don't think THEY saw much of it because it had stopped snowing by the time THEY got out of bed (I know when because I hear them and see the lights go on in the house). What with all the trees appearing everywhere – in gardens and even in windows, lights flashing and jumping out on me when I go down to the recreation ground. Wiki (with a capital 'W') and WikiWikiWeb are sometimes used to refer specifically to the the first-ever wiki. He had been working hard on his pantomime and when he showed it to Wicky, he got told that it wasn't very good. Just before it was time to come home, the kids Ben and Rachel came along to the field fully intending to make a snowman. In reference to his cosmopolitan ancestry, Johnson has described himself as a "one-man melting pot" — with a combination of Muslims, Jews and Christians comprising his great-grandparentage.[6] His father's maternal grandmother, Marie Louise de Pfeffel, was a descendant of Prince Paul of Wurttemberg through his relationship with a German actress. They have two sons—Milo Arthur (born 1995) and Theodore Apollo (born 1999)—and two daughters—Lara Lettice (born 1993) and Cassia Peaches (born 1997).[13] Boris Johnson and his family currently live in Holloway, North London.
In 1999 he became editor of The Spectator, where he stayed until December 2005 upon being appointed Shadow Minister for Higher Education.
He is also author of three collections of journalism, Johnson's Column, Lend Me Your Ears and Have I Got Views For You.
On 2 April 2006 it was alleged in the News of the World that Johnson had had another extramarital affair, this time with Times Higher Education Supplement journalist Anna Fazackerley. Yet Londoners have little confidence in the Mayor spending their money with care and prudence.
It was here that David Cameron and all his supporters gathered to congratulate him on becoming Mayor of London.
You see, like the rest of Alli's diary, we rely on HIM to type it up for us, which HE does usually after he has walked Alli home in the evening. It appears to be a weird song but it was made a whole lot worse by the fact that HE can't remember all the words. Well, alright, he did clench his jaws very tight and wrinkle up his nose which he tried to hold very high in the air. Eventually, the engineer said HE should contact the broadband supplier and said he would ring back again in an hour. HE stopped and stared up at the tree although how he could see I don't know as it gets dark very quickly these nights.
I stood up and argued that we should be doing this kind of thing, particularly at Christmas but even at other times as well as not everyone gets a chance to ride a racehorse. It was quite dusk and HE had his flashing light on HIS arm and I had my yellow warning leggings on.
THEY bumped into Faith in the supermarket today and she told them that Chester had been checked out by the vet and they had discovered that he has got a problem with one of his eyes. HE does this sometimes when HE is feeling particularly full of breath and we have got it down to a nice little routine.
I don't mind rain, I don't mind snow, I don't even mind frost – but, the wind, I hate it.
When HE came back from feeding the lads, however, HE said it was not as bad as it sounds down here and HE was right.
HE said HE had heard a hunting horn when HE was standing waiting for Wicky to finish his bucket. The snow was still a quite thick covering on THEIR cars when THEY got up but, by the time HE was ready to walk me up to Ninefields, it had all virtually melted. As their eyes focussed they were able to make out the tall elegant shape of Allimiss arriving to meet them. The first is that HE was just coming to the end of typing today's diary entry into HIS laptop when the page went blank and after many tries at finding where it had all gone, HE had to give up and concede that all that work was lost.
I've always wanted snow on Christmas Day.' It did no good telling him that it wasn't me that had delivered the snow so in the end I just had to tell him that it was because I cared for him so much.
However, after being surrounded by us and persuaded to part with a mint or two they had to give up and wait to be rescued by HIM and HER.
Through Prince Paul, Johnson is a descendant of King George II, and through George's great-great-great grandfather King James I a descendant of all of the previous British royal houses.
His comic first novel Seventy-Two Virgins was published in 2004,[16] and his next book will be The New British Revolution, though he has put publication on hold until after the London Mayoral election.[17] He was nominated in 2004 for a British Academy Television Award, and has attracted several unofficial fan clubs and sites.
In 2004 he was appointed to the front bench as Shadow Minister for the Arts in a small reshuffle resulting from the resignation of the Shadow Home Affairs Spokesman, Nick Hawkins.
As soon as HE leaves Alli with HER, HE takes her rug indoors and hangs up on the stairs (I think they like the smell indoors!) and then HE gets the buckets SHE has prepared for the next day's feed from the tack room and brings them indoors as well (maybe it's one smell to counteract another?). In fact, HE can only remember a few of then, and those do not appear to be in the correct sequence. Of course I saw it straight away as I was walking down the road and I thought to myself ‘Oh, that time of year again'. When HE first put it all together following HIS ‘little engineers' instructions and it didn't work, HE tried a few variations and then decided that it would be best to wait until the day that the broadband was switched on. HE decided to go through each thing in turn (pages and pages of it) and finally changed something that no one had mentioned and, hey presto, it worked. Every morning, as part of my daily groom, she would get down behind my ankles and pick the scabs off.
Eventually we moved off and I started to suspect that HE was just trying to get his own back on me when we stopped again. This got quite a lot of support until someone mentioned the fact that none of us had wonderful voices. However, the objectors were more senior than me and there were quite a lot of them so that idea failed as well.


There were actually parts for horses in that although we'd have to let the rats from the stables play a part as well. On our way home, we found out that Chester , a 17 hand jumper from Ireland via Torquay has come to stay. There I was, minding my own business, just having a little green mouthful over the recreation ground, passing the time as it was Sunday and HE always washes my stable out on a Sunday before we go over Ninefields. He was taken out yesterday and shied a couple of times at something he thought he saw which really was nothing at all. OK, it was raining as we walked up the Throwleigh Road to Ninefields but there's nothing unusual in that.
In fact, Wick shot outside and left his food to see what was going on but they heard nothing more so they forgot about it until the horses went by. And then, coming home tonight, there was this crowd of humans all dressed up with yellow luminous jackets and going along Ramsley Lane, knocking on doors and rattling tins full of money. HE sets of to feed my old men at Ninefields in the dark and by the time he gets back it has started to get light. When SHE came up to Ninefields to give the old boys theirs, Treg was scared at first that it was just another ruse to give him a wormer and he was just about to run away when he saw the red stocking. The walk home, this time with Ben on my back was uneventful as I walked in the channels made by cars running along the road.
In 1995 a recording of a telephone conversation was made public revealing a plot by a friend to physically assault a News of the World journalist. The, the puir wee laddie, goes and sits down with HIS laptop computer on HIS lap (where else?) and types up the day's diary entry that we have told him. You may remember other times, that I have told you about, when he has marched off very determinedly, up to the top of field nine (and you cant get any further away from the Throwleigh Road than that), just at the sight of a wormer syringe. While HE was picking my feet, before THEY take my head collar off so that I can go along to my stable, I deliberately didn't turn my head or give any indication. In fact, I said HE put it together, but the truth is that only the physical parts were put together. HE told me that HE had the satisfaction of phoning the engineer and telling him how to do it, in case anyone else had the same trouble. It was really painful but it was not that so much that worried me as we horses are quite good at bearing pain.
Then there was quite a long pause before anyone was brave enough to come up with any other ideas, for fear of being beaten down like the last one was.
Not only did I not go down to the recreation ground for a bite of grass before going out to Ninefields, this morning I was left in my stable while I could smell that THEY were having their breakfast and ignoring me.
We couldn't see what as we could only see it's headlights but it was obvious that it was coming very fast.
So, as I say, I was just grazing peacefully when these enor… well these quite large puppies came over and proceeded to get enthusiastic in he way that puppies do.
And when you want a horse for work then this is a real problem so, I'm afraid, he is going back to where he came from in Torquay. HE just lifts my lead rein up high in the air and we both start out together at the same time. I couldn't look out, I couldn't even eat, I just had to stand with my back to the front door and doze.
Instead of the usual damp and soggy smell that he usually is, he was all fluffy and lovely.
In fact the only really unpleasant thing is that when HE is getting very wet, HE tends to sing to try and cheer himself up.
When SHE came with HIM this evening and was giving me some treats in the boot of the car while HE took the old boys supper down to the field shelter, a police car stopped and asked if we were all home now.
I just stopped and stared at them and it was a good job that I did because the very next thing a four by four came round the corner with a big red sleigh in tow.
About ten minutes after that, we set out up the hill and it is definitely light and somehow the weather improves.
So, for most of the day, Treg just stood behind the field shelter half sulking and half reworking his panto. This morning, I had mine back at the stable before we set off up the road to Ninefields, so Treg had no idea what was coming.
HE couldn't get the two machines to even talk to him to get their instructions installed on them as well.
Anyway, thank goodness we can now all get back to talking about sensible things like carrots and polo mints. After a while, someone did speak up and said maybe it wasn't such a good idea to do anything special, anyway and we should leave it to the humans while we just went about our business as normal. Jack and the Beanstalk was suggested but someone objected to the prominent part for the cow.
Mark was nice, as usual and by the time he had finished I was feeling just like any other day as HE put my coat on and we got ready to go out. Faith said he has a lose shoe so he can't ride out until Wednesday but we should see him in the field next to ours on Sunday. In fact, HE makes a game of it and HE runs as fast as HE can and I pretend that I just cant catch HIM up. Of course, that left me very tired and irritated this morning and even though SHE took me down to the recreation ground for some grass before going out, I was still up on my toes all the way up to Ninefields. He must have been standing out in the wind all night, enjoying it while I was cowering in my stable. I looked down into Clarence's field, strangely empty now that the cows have gone away and I stood and looked up at Ramsley Common and that was also empty.
By standing on a bit of high ground, HE was able to see over the bank and there was Treg lying flat out on the ground. And, on that sleigh was the old, white bearded human still wearing his bright red dressing gown. That left me talking to Wicky which can be quite infuriating when the weather is bad because he is always so happy with it. When HE came out to see me this morning while HE was waiting for the kettle to boil for HIS early morning coffee, it was dry and not particularly cold.
Now, I think Alli has mentioned that he has been having some problems installing something called a wireless network to enable all THEIR machines to get the Internet through something called a noseband or whatever.
I was talking to Wicky the other day and he said that the only time he uses his voice is in the morning when HE comes along with the buckets and then again, the same in the evening. You have no idea what a relief it is to get into my nice quiet field in the mornings for a good old chat with my friends. Finally, just to please THEM, I just glanced at the Christmas tree with all its lights shining, as I made my way to my supper bucket.
Now, I've already told you that HE finally got the broadband bit working with the telephonic help of another engineer from the broadband supplier.
This brought about a prolonged hush and then people started muttering about what a shame this would be. And on and on and on it went, one idea after another being turned down for whatever reason. The trip up to the field was alright for me but HE kept complaining about having to walk with a full tummy.
In the end HE had to move right into the middle of the road so the vehicle (it was a very large dumper truck and trailer thing) had to stop or run HIM over. As we got a little down the road, we heard him call out, probably to Faith but he may have heard me walking down the hill. I stood and snorted at them to warn them off but I think that kind of animal has very poor hearing or something because they took no notice whatsoever.
I did try to get some sort of hint out of him but he just clamped his jaw shut, just as he does when he has to have his wormers. HE always ends up at the bottom of the run, out side my stable, telling HER that HE has beaten me again. I spooked just going up Ramsley and then, when we stopped outside Amber's place, her German Shepherd (who I know very well is a very kind, gentle dog who I rub noses with sometimes) grabbed my attention as if it was a wolf.
No point talking to Treg as he just went along in his own sweet way not knowing what Wick had been doing. HE stood and made various noises at me, calling me a silly old marey, then HE tried to put pressure on my lead rein but I just held my head up high and that defeated that. I don't honestly know if he was very late getting up this morning or if he was heading for an early night but if he didn't soon get home and stop driving about all over the place like that, he'll catch his death of cold. There he stands in the rain and gales with no coat on now and he keeps saying what a wonderful wee bit of weather we are enjoying. By the time HE had made my breakfast and was ready to take the old boys their's, it was in the middle of a blizzard. Of course, I get irritated with them some times when they cant play with me like a younger horse or pony could.
And then, before he knew what was going on, SHE took my head collar off and put it on Treg. Really, it's quite nice as it gives me something to look at when I hang my head out of the stable door. This meant that as long as HE connected his computer to the machine that linked to the broadband line with a cable, he could use it. I took the third and fourth with what I thought was good grace but I could see that HE could see by the look on my face that I was NOT best pleased. HE remembered from last year that there were holly trees along here and HE was trying to find some with good berries on.
If, what, maybe 30 or more of the finest horses in France couldn't come up with an idea to celebrate the Christmas festivities then it was a very poor show indeed. Anyway, I don't suppose she will find another one in time to play in Treg's masterpiece so he will either have to write him out or find someone else to play the part. Then, when we walked along a bit further, I heard footsteps and had to be turned round, only to find it was Max trotting along as he always does.
I think he has been working very hard on this pantomime that he wants to put on after Xmas. Finally HE resorted to giving me a big hug which HE knows I hate when I am trying to be naughty.
I must say this for him, when we stopped for our carrot break, HE turned me round so my face was out of the wind and rain. They told me not to be surprised if they didn't get indigestion later in the day although I'm glad to be able to tell you that they survived. I was going to say clouds but today it was just one continuous cloud and we were right inside it.


The rest of us with our heads down into the wind can only bite our tongues and try and avoid him.
HE told me later that when HE and Ben were driving up the Throwleigh Road , they could hardly see through the windscreen, the snow was so heavy. Then SHE passed one syringe over to HIM for Wicky (who eats anything and probably thought it was just another sort of treat) while SHE put my head collar on Treg and before he knew it, he had a mouthful of wormer paste. He had thought that the birds had got them all but then HE explained that it was where the automatic hedge trimming machines had been that there were no berries but if you looked higher up the tree above the cutting line there were lots of berries. If we had been human, there would have been much shoulder hunching and arm waving and a tumult of body language to add to the talking.
It was bad enough when I could see them but when they ran right under me, out of sight, my instinct is to run until I have a safe distance. But, tonight when we got back SHE burst out laughing saying she had never seen anything as bad as my trot. I just let him go past and ignored him so that I wouldn't look silly and then we had to wait as a big skip lorry came roaring along the Throwleigh Road . After quizzing him about it, he finally decided that boxing day would be a good time for it.
He was lying in his usual favourite spot these days, underneath the big tree in the centre of the filed. The car and sleigh took up the whole of the lane and I had to go up my friend Reubens' driveway to get out of the way. I only have to lay my muzzle on Treg's neck for him to know a) that he has to move, b) when he has to move and c) where he is going.
When I asked HIM why HE wanted the berries, was HE going in for a change of diet or something, HE looked blank at first. The trouble was I couldn't run because SHE was holding me on a rein (actually, I'm ashamed to say, on a retractable dog lead). Then, as we stood watching, Brian came down the hill carrying Ruebens and Beth and Elsa came along and they all said ‘hello Alli' and merry Xmas and everyone waved at the old white bearded guy and he waved back and everyone seemed to be in a good mood.
Now I don't mind rain for itself but I do hate the miserable effect it can cause sometimes.
And then, ten minuets after getting home, the sun was out and HE was walking me up the hill with Rachel on my back. Given the chance he could have run away but on the head collar, oh well, fair game, get it over with.
HE could now put all the instructions into the machine, according to the ‘easy start guide' provided. When we got to the field, Treg was having his shoes done so HE took me round the long way, down the bridle path and into the field by one of the other gates. Now, racehorse are taught three things, how to walk (round the ring), how to canter (up to the starting post) and, of course, how to gallop. I just switch my mind off and look at the trees and hedges and try and think of something pleasant.
I was going to say ‘looking interested' but, with Treg, that would have been an exaggeration. So, I thought, what the hell, it's only once a year and I forgave them delaying me from getting to my supper. HE sat down to type up this day's diary (Thursday – are ye still with me, folk?), only to find that HIS laptop had seized up.
And then, HE starts to make that strange noise that HE thinks sounds like a horse neighing. And after the head collar was taken off, he just stayed there and acted quite normally (which for Treg is standing vacantly waiting for his next thought).
I tried explaining to HIM that horses liked to have their regular apple biscuits at all times, even Xmas but HE then got grumpy and dragged me home, singing all the way - to punish me, I guess!
Mind you, as soon as they had passed, I did a swift u-turn and moved smartly home to my stable. For some reason, when it is hard enough anyway walking up hill then the wind is always blowing in your face.
After frantic females (I think they are called) to the makers and trying all sorts of tricks that they advised him of, the only way in the end, to get it working, was to completely erase his hard dicks (don't blame me, that's what Alli told me) and start all over again. It's bad enough how terrible it is but HE will keep on repeating it until at last, out of desperation, poor old Wick is forced into giving a proper neigh back. THEY have only to insert their fingers in my coat while THEY are doing it and THEY find my little scars and bumps. When HE gave a little tentative pull on the lead rein, my head went straight up in the air, jerking him back a foot or two (in both senses of the word). We are not likely to use the gate right up at the top as that only leads into Farmer Michael's field where he keeps his sheep mostly and his cows sometimes. Just at that moment, their human came and retrieved them so no harm maws done but it left me wound up for quite a long time this morning. HE gave Treg his ‘good morning' carrot and, having made sure that there was nothing wrong with the old man (well, nothing more than usual), HE walked down the hill, back to Wicky.
And when HE moved on from the ‘easy start' bit and tried to tackle it from the manual provided, it was rather like working from a recipe book with half the pages torn out or written in a foreign language.
And tonight, instead of eating carrots out of the boot of HER car, I had to stand and let HER pick the scabs on my face. Most of us had been told stories about the circus when we were very young and it was always a sort of glamorous never, never land.
So, we went down the bridle path and that was interesting because I was able to smell all the horses who had been up here recently whereas normally I only get to see them. In the past, when he has had his morning treat, Treg has got up and come ambling down for breakfast. But the trouble is you do have to go pushing your face into the brambles and worse sometimes, the barbed wire.
So, we made it to the field, in the rain only to find that those other two hadn't even bothered to come up to the gate to meet me.
As soon as HE gets his reply, HE switches to human again and starts to say what a nice day it is and all that and then asks them what kind of a night (or day) they have had. And if there was nothing to see, there was everything to scent, and that was even better because HE couldn't tell if a smell was real or imaginary. In fact, he waited until HE had taken Treg's bucket back to the car, to be brought up later.
What it do was to bring about one of the longest and stubbornest cobby sulks in the history of Ninefields. Then Treg came down and HE had to walk all the way back to the field shelter with Treg's bucket and put Wick on the head collar and take him up to the Throwleigh Road field, to be shut in to give Treg time to eat his bucket alone without Wicky bullying him off it. So, after a couple of days of frustration, when HE had been e-mailing the manufacturer in the US for help and getting one reply the next day, he finally got a UK phone number from them and got in touch today.
In the good old days, you could rely on at least one sheep a week getting entangled in a load of brambles. The problem is that HE was doing what HE had been advised on the phone but it still didn't work, right up to the time HE had to come and fetch me from Ninefields. The combination of all that woolly coat together with the brambles thorns was sure to make the initial catch. However, opening the gate was another matter because the brambles and weeds had grown all around and through it and held it firm in position until he yanked it open. I know I should want my supper but, in fact, I have been eating all day, one way or another, so it is not urgent to get back to my bucket.
If HE only knew that the ‘moooos' that the cows give in reply were not answers but are them laughing at HIM, maybe HE would shut up.
Then, all that is needed is the sheep's natural stupidity, to ensure that it turns round and round and gets really snagged up.
Anyway, we stopped tonight and HE then explained that the store had gone out of stock of our usual apple biscuits so he had bought another make, to tide us over.
I walked up to the road field but instead of going up to Treg (who had been calling out), I decided to go down under Treg's tree (the weeping one) and have a jolly good roll. So all I want to do is amble along, have a sniff here, a sniff there and look at all the bits of the world that I've not got to today. If he has to go out in it, he puts his head down so low that his chin nearly touches the ground and pushes forward as if he has to push the rain back.
Nowadays, you can't rely on the brambles, what with the hedge cutting machines and the chemical sprays and so on. I don't know what got into me but when I got up I felt full of joy and wanted a lark so I cantered up the hill to where Treg was being shod, bucking and kicking as I went.
On the other hand, HE has had to leave HIS nice warm house to come out and get me and all HE wants to do is to get back home again. However, the dawdling and lollygagging was such a good joke that I decided not to speed up now. I have heard some of them say that the wire is to keep the sheep in but I'm sure that they know even better than me that you can't keep a sheep in if it wants to get out.
He tries to give me my treats as we walk along and I try to stop and munch them while having a good look round.
The stream that passes through Ninefields runs along the Throwleigh Road in the fields where the cows are and one particular cow was having fun by walking along inside the stream. A high Devon bank, topped by a hedge with barbed wire round is just something to walk along the top of. On the bank, on our side of the stream there was this little black calf doing interesting things in the hedge. Treg had to go off behind the field shelter and do his best to reconstruct his song and he wouldn't talk to Alli or anyone.
It's just that I was there to tell him the bad news and so I can pass on his reaction to you together with the new version of his song. HE tried to bluff me to walking by going off HIMSELF and letting the lead rein get longer and longer. Finally HE did get me started so then HE did his old joke of walking faster and faster until I have to trot to keep up with him. Finally we both stopped laughing, he called me a silly old mare and I can't tell you what I called HIM and then, after a minty treat or two, we both set off at a normal pace and finally reached home, where SHE was waiting with Tom the cat in her arms.



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Hearing loss after surgery 6e


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