The yard is abuzz. After the shock of the Referendum and the catastrophe of the Euros 2016, they had someone new to cheer on — tennis player Marcus Willis, who stormed through his first Wimbledon match despite being the lowest-ranked competitor in the men’s singles.
The little television was on a shelf at the end of the barn and was constantly tuned to Wimbledon. “Won’t the batteries run out?” asked the Show Pony. The others rolled their eyes in unison.
“Lovely to have something to be happy about,” said the Cob, who was a generally cheerful soul anyway. “I even rather like strawberries!”
“That cream stuff is rank, though,” said the Hack, raising her upper lip in a classic flehmen response.
“Talking of rank, he plays Federer next, so we should enjoy it while it lasts,” said the Hunter, gloomily.
“Don’t dismiss him too quickly,” argued the Cob, “no one expected Iceland to win the footie.”
“That’s because it’s a supermarket,” said the Show Pony, looking puzzled and triggering another collective eye roll.
“Anyway,” said the Hunter, slyly, “we should show our support for Marcus by taking off a shoe, like they did at Wimbledon yesterday. The farrier’s coming this morning, so we should wait until about 10 minutes after he leaves…”
The Riding Horse is shocked. “Oh I say!”