Other Dad came early and after breakfast put us out to graze in our fly rugs. Given yesterday's performance, he didn't bother to put on our fly masks.
Both Dads had appointments this morning and we were left to our own devices until Dad came at 1 'o clock . We stood by the gate to show we preferred not to be out, so by 2.30, Dad conceded and brought us in.
The best part was a long cool hose down to wash away the flies and lower our temperatures. We then stood quietly outside our stables whilst Dad prepared our beds and teas.
Dad put my tens machine on for half an hour. At one stage I twitched so violently to get rid of a fly that I sent the equipment flying onto the concrete of the yard. I guess that's what they call "testing to destruction." Well in this case the kit passed with flying colours and worked when dusted off, put back together and restored on my back.
I guess we will be ridden when the temperature is less extreme and, until then, will be "resting." In some ways, the lives of cobs resemble those of actors with performance after bouts of resting. Unfortunately, unlike actors, cobs don't have an agent or even a union.