Nothing much happened for at least three years as we were busy extending our family. A dog called Rocky Rockstar arrived first, much to the cat, Boris’ disgust. Then came Nathan and Dylan.
As if life wasn’t exhausting enough we (correction I) decided to dip our toes into fostering rescue horses. After the initial excitement, we realised there was a lot more to it than just sticking them in a field full of grass. Regular visits to top up water troughs, dealing with escapee ponies, flies, ragwort, poo, horse care and handling, the list went on and on. Our complete lack of experience, Phil being away for work, looking after two under twos and keeping on top of our kitchen renovation meant I had very little time to do anything with the horses. I felt way out of my depth so we had no choice but to send them back to the rescue. I was gutted, however, we did have some wonderful moments with them and their short stay left a lasting impression on me. I knew I wanted to foster ponies but I was now more realistic about my goals and expectations. More importantly, for this to work I needed to set up a support structure that would help me live my dream.
