From publishing to poo-picking chapter two - we've arrived

So here I am in the darkest, deepest depths of Devon, warmbloods turned out in their paddock, Roxster (bless her, she's so sweet) exploring, me panicking mostly. I've driven the lorry here, but shortly after Dave turns up in - all three cats in a cage in the back of his car! They're terrified, but little do they know that they will soon be able to dismember voles and all sorts of other creatures in the luxury of our living room! It's all looking good so far and for a moment - just a moment though - I think, what a brilliant idea. Living in Devon rocks big time! I love it here and look I can go and feed my ponies over the fence of our back garden and Roxster (God she's so perfect) can run to her heart's content. Oh and there is a view to die for! It's all great, isn't it?

A long day

OK so the next day was never going to be a good day. Driving an empty lorry back to Surrey (sorry girls you're staying) and driving my Mini back to Devon all in the same day is no one's idea of fun. Little did I know I would get stuck in Glastonbury traffic. Twelve hours of driving and I am back with Dave (He's Mr Mugz to me) and I NEED wine. So I start work tomorrow and we are officially here! Teething problems? Noooooooo surely not, but first let me tell you briefly about my new boys.

My new equines

Rather than bore you, I will just say that the boss's horses are lovely. Paddy and Tigger. Tigger is a PSG/Inter I dressage pony - he's Welsh and palomino, so not your typical dressage type, but very talented. Paddy is an Irish type, trained to medium level and a lovely hack. The horses are great. My first day at work is great, too, and although I am not proof reading pages or doing staff appraisals, I have remembered how to muck out. Thank God!

So, the teething problems

Never, ever venture out past 5pm to go and find petrol in Devon. I mean it, never do it! Mr Mugz had taken the Mini to work, so I was left with the Fiat Ulysee - lovely vehicle when it has fuel. Once again I NEEDED wine, so ventured out at 6pm thinking, well I'll pop to the nearest petrol station first then go and get some alcohol. Not. I got to the local filling station which closes at 5.30pm. Not a problem because there's another one a few miles down the road - towards Dolton Beacon (excuse spelling) might I add. I am a true local now. OK so that one is shut as well, so maybe (seeing as the petrol gauge is rapidly getting redder by the moment) I should venture home. I made it as far as a very blind bend and then the Fiat gives up. So I have a car which is parked on a blind bend, a dog with no lead (bless it's not Roxy's fault) and no mobile signal. I start walking with my dog attached to a bit of baler twine, and within seconds a blacked out BMW stops. There's a skinhead in the driver's seat. 'Are you OK? Need a lift somewhere?' My mum would kill me, but what's the alternative? Walk the six miles home and then back again or trust a rather dodgy-looking stranger? I must admit I had a moment of panic when the skinhead said, 'I bet you wouldn't have got into a blacked out Beamer in Surrey would you!' I answered with something along the lines of 'No one would have stopped in Surrey anyway!' After doubting him, this wonderful life-saving man took me back home to pick up the can of fuel (yes I had a can of fuel at home, what can I say?) and then took me back to the Fiat, which thankfully had not been hit, but God know's how. That's one adventure, there's more to come, and you still want to know how Carl Hester's Liebling is involved, right?

Next time, dealing with injuries. It's not quite the same in Devon!