Charlie decided this morning that it'd be nice to take Alice out on Maisie's pony - why he thought this without checking with me if Greta is really up to the job (babysitting a 3 year old) is a mystery, but there you go. Away they went, Jack and bike and Iona the dog in tow, for a morning of lead rein and Alice's constant chatter.
They were away for about an hour and a half, and when they came back Alice was not on the pony. She skipped over to me and told me (in a very excited voice) "Greta show noff hers BOTTum at va STALLyon!" and then did a little impersonation of the pony prancing around.
The Grangers over by the Valley (he walks fast...) have bought a new colt and stuck him in the paddock at the side of the lane. Greta - who until now hasn't shown the slightest hint of being in season - decided to spin and prance and snort and wink shamelessly at said colt. Swear to god, Greta has never pranced before in her life! Poor Alice got a bit of a fright and decided she didn't want to ride any more, and poor Charlie was quite stumped re explaining why cutesy wootsey ickle Greta turned into a firebreathing flirtatious monster (growing four inches in the process). He did actually manage to deliver some Alice-sized sex education (well done, dear) but I think he needs to lie down now.