Vagueness and the Aftermath - A sporadic diary

[MrsBoldie]

Hello Mr Red Dog

I've spent the last 2 days at work reading this thread and I'm completely enthrawled. My colleagues (whilst usually obilvious to my bizarre behaviour) now actuall seem concerned as I've been randomly laughing and crying at regular intervals.  Keep the memories coming - getting impatient already.....

I have a couple of questions for you:

What actually defines a Gypsy other than the blood line?  Is it mainly living with no fixed abode and following the unwritten rules that are passed down?
And are your children still living as Gypsies?  If not, how do you feel about that - or if they chose not to, how would you feel?

Wendy

Only the bloodline Mrs B. You can't decide to be a Gypsy, and perhaps more important, you can't decide not to be one.

I have four girls, two are married and two still at home.

One of the married ones lives in a caravan full time and at the moment is stopping in a site not far from me. The other one has a house but she keeps a caravan in the garden and sleeps in it often. Both travel as much as circumstance will allow during the summer.

All my girls are fiercely proud of what they are.

Would I be sad if they chose not to live as Gypsies? Yes, I suppose I would a little, it's wonderful for me to see my grandchildren being brought up the way I was.

At the end of the day though, as long as they're happy, I'm happy.

There are some pictures of My daughter Kelly (The one with the house) in this thread.

http://blondepoker.com/forum/index.php?topic=23474.0


PS- Thank you for the upper case "G"

Thanks Red

Fascinating stuff.  The pictures will help me picture some of your family when I read your posts in future.  Seems to me there is a lot to be said for your lifestyle - you come across as a very happy man.

[RED-DOG]

It made absolutely no sense for me to buy Henry’s mare. Until recently, I had been stopping just down the road at Wombwell, no more than a catapult shot away from her paddock, but just a week or so ago, I had upped sticks and moved to Coalville.

I was lost in Leicestershire. I used to drive out and forget the way back to the trailers. I had no contacts, and I had been unable to find grazing for the horses I already had. They didn’t sell gravy in the chip shops, and they had absolutely no idea what a balm-cake was. The last thing I needed was to complicate my life further by buying the ugliest mare in the known universe.

After I had paid for her, Henry gave me back a £20 note. The ubiquitous “Luck money”, a traditional gesture of goodwill amongst Gypsies given by the seller to the buyer. Henry wasn’t a Gypsy, so he was under no obligation, but he had been around us long enough to know how things worked, and he knew that he would get his luck money when the boot was on the other foot.

I took Henry’s £20, and then I gave it back to him with a request that he use it to pay the field rent for another week or so until I had chance to pick the mare up.

The day after I bought her, I had a stroke of luck. While I was out looking for grazing, I bumped into an old horse-dealer. His name was James Ashton, but everyone knew him as “Raggy back Jack’s Jimmy” on account of his wealthy, but somewhat unkempt father.

Jimmy was a lovely, but quirky man; He had a liking for digestive biscuits that bordered on obsession, and a tendency to exaggerate.

“Bred any good uns this time Jim?” I enquired politely.

“Black and white filly”. He replied, spraying me liberally with crumbs,   
“The best one in Englant. “In Englant I say!” He repeated, giving me a second coat, “Wanna see it?”

“Of course I want to see it,” I answered truthfully. “Foller me then” he said, climbing into his Transit van. I blinked a few times and brushed the front of my jersey. Then I got into my pickup and follered.

We drove for perhaps a couple of miles down unfamiliar lanes, then turned off the road and onto a long well kept drive that led to a huge stone farmhouse, which stood in beautifully landscaped grounds between two very expensive looking barn conversions.

Jim got out of his van and waved towards the house. Then he set off over a stile and across a vast expanse of lush meadow, closely followed by me, and a couple of expectant looking chickens.

After we had walked for a good long way with no sign of his livestock, Jim took an empty biscuit packet out of his pocket and rustled it. Then he began shouting, “C’mon c’mon c’mon” As he shouted, he sprayed the surrounding countryside with crumbs, and the chicken’s patience was rewarded.

I heard them before I saw them, the rumble and thud of unshod hooves growing louder by the second. Then suddenly there they were, coming fast over a low rise. A dozen or so coloured horses galloping toward us in a tight bunch, manes and tails flying. I’ve seen it a hundred times, and it still makes my pulse race.

Just when it seemed as if they were bound to run us down, they stopped. Bracing their front legs and almost sitting on their haunches. Gouging up huge slices of turf and looking for all the world like American quarter horses at a rodeo. I glanced at Jim and he was grinning from ear to ear, just like I was.

The horses scowled and ported at each other, and jostled Jimmy unti he started handing out the biscuits. A proper horseman, he knew the pecking order of the herd and doled out the goodies accordingly. There were three foals in the bunch, one was a red colt, one was an average black and white filly, and one was a red and white filly. This last was the one we had come to see.

She really was a stunner, and I said so. “Wow Jim!” I exclaimed, “She’s a nobby un”. He glowed with pride. Of course, we could both see that she had her faults, but she was one of the nicest I had seen that year. “She’s a credit to you Jim,” I said, and I meant it.

“Told you” He cried, and this time almost an entire half digestive shot past my ear and landed at the feet of a grateful bay mare.

“When I tell you it’s the best in Englant, I means it’s the best in Englant!” He shouted.

As we walked back together through what was about 40 acres of grassland, I asked him if he knew where I might find some grazing.

“Put em in with mine”, said Raggy back Jack’s Jimmy. “There’s 300 acres here easy”

[MANTIS01]

Red, you seem to have some good knowledge of horses, particularly proportions. Have you ever been into horse racing, and if so were your selections based on the best proportions for speed?

[RED-DOG]

Red, you seem to have some good knowledge of horses, particularly proportions. Have you ever been into horse racing, and if so were your selections based on the best proportions for speed?

I have a mental image of what a good horse should look like, but I have a precise, detailed mental image of what the mythical "Perfect" Gypsy horse would look like.

It's a bit like a cardiologist. He has to have a good working knowledge of the entire human anatomy, but his specialist knowledge is in one particular area.

A lot of stuff would apply to any horse, a race horse can have a nice action, so can a cart horse. I would notice, but I don't think it would translate into picking winners.

[RED-DOG]

Just before I left home for day 2 of the £300 at dtd,I was sitting with a cup of tea in the portacabin that Mrs Red an I are using as a kitchen/washroom while we are between caravans, when a small raiding party of assorted kids and grandkids descended. They were all intent on making me enjoy my birthday wheather I liked it or not.

The box contains a pair of Gortex boots that I really wanted but wouldn't buy for myself because they were £80 so they all chipped in and got them for me.....awwww!!!

My birthday cake is made of profiterole and I had to fight like a tiger to get a piece.

[RED-DOG]

They know I love home made cards, I got several. These are a couple of examples.

[boldie]

That's good stuff, Mr Red.

By the way...which Hair dye do you use?..I have no need for it myself but I'm not convinced you use some or your moustache.

[Karabiner]

That's good stuff, Mr Red.

By the way...which Hair dye do you use?..I have no need for it myself but I'm not convinced you use some or your moustache.

Peroxide blonde usually, I wish i knew how to put up a link 

[boldie]

They know I love home made cards, I got several. These are a couple of examples.

BTW..I only just spotted it but does anyone else think Red looks like a cross between Wiggum and Flanders?


might just be me, of course.

[Karabiner]

You and Zelley have a gorgeous brood of grandchildren there, some real cuties and cheekys.

[Colchester Kev]

The young lad right in the middle of the top pic .... oh boy ... he looks just like my sam at around that age, angelic looks that mean you get away with being a cheeky rascal LOL

Heres Sam at that age

[RED-DOG]

Wow! He's the spit out of your mouth Kev.

[AndrewT]

Wow! He's the spit out of your mouth Kev.

Except Sam's wearing a suit.

[Colchester Kev]

Wow! He's the spit out of your mouth Kev.

Just to prove I read the thread, I know what that means


Whats the young fellas name ?? and has he got that same trait of being able to get away with all sorts with just a look ?

[RED-DOG]

Wow! He's the spit out of your mouth Kev.

Just to prove I read the thread, I know what that means


Whats the young fellas name ?? and has he got that same trait of being able to get away with all sorts with just a look ?

His name is Tom.  He is into livestock, catapults, pocket knives, cowboys, pirates, and although he won't admit, he quite likes girls.


You can kid him up, but you can't push him at all.