But, then again . . . . .

By TrikinDave

The Dick Vet Pony.

Shopping day today, we go both for ourselves and for Mrs Merlin who is now seriously disabled and never leaves her bedroom. She doesn’t deserve too much sympathy as her condition is almost entirely down  to her life style; for example: she phoned through with her shopping list just as we were getting up this morning, that would be just before she went back to bed and she was still sound asleep when we delivered her weekly supply of groceries this afternoon. A life-time of inactivity combined with excessive consumption of food, tobacco and alcohol  have wreaked havoc on her body, and even her recent stroke hasn’t convinced her of the need to change her ways; surprisingly, she sees her plight as the result of other people’s failings.
After the shopping was completed, we had a call from our local Riding for the Disabled centre asking us to collect some medication for a couple of aging ponies. While herself was conducting the business side of things, I blipped the sculpture of a pony couchant outside the reception office.  It was sculpted by A. Wallace in about 1830, from a model that resided on William Dick’s mantle shelf; it was mounted above the façade of the veterinary college in Clyde Street in 1833 and, after following the college to Summerhall, it eventually found its way here in 2003. She’s in pretty good shape considering that she’s nearly 200 years old.
My thanks to those who pointed out the error of my libelous ways when commenting about the Longannet Power Station on Wednesday.

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