Well, this is most definitely the more levin-esque part of my life. For the past month I have got up at 6:45 six days of the week, mucked out twelve stalls a day...I've even fed baby lambs for chrissake. Actually, that last bit makes me sound like Marie Antionette.
How's this: every morning I attend to Razor's neck wound, where another horse kindly left his tooth. The catheter attached to the wound needs to be syringed with warm water, and then I have to PICK OFF THE SCABS AND PUS to keep the wound open. You know when you do something for so long you forget how disgusting it is? (This is my theory for how people can change nappies ten times a day anyway. ) Its like that now. Actually, its like watching a car crash: revolting, but fascinating. I can imagine myself missing it when I go back to University.
I'm trying to remember the name of the novel where people get aroused by car accidents, but the name of it escapes me.
Speaking of novels, I really should read some. The only thing I've read in the last month is 'Think Harmony with Horses', by Ray Hunt. Somehow, don't think thats gonna get me a 2:1.
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