On the perils of becoming fond of inanimate objects

Last night Meegie the Omega went off to her new home. I was upset. She's a wonderful old girl who has been a faithful friend for ten years. I hope they look after her properly and treat her with the respect she deserves.

Yes, I seriously hope that. And then I feel a tiny bit insane!

I'm thinking I'll just have to stop this anthropomorphism because it hurts. Should I now refer to Peregrine Printer as 'Dell 3110 cn'? (Oh, he was teasing me yesterday, claiming I'd pressed 'Pause Printing' when I hadn't at all!) Should I call Olive Oyl 'Landrover Freelander Kalahari Softback 1796cc Estate'?

I don't think so. It makes my world sound positively dystopian.

It's much the same as with the horses, not of course inanimate. I mean attributing human emotions to them. But it's NOT attributing, it's TRUE.

This morning, I took Poppy up to the sand school. It was A LAKE, apart from a small island in the middle about six feet in diameter. I put her on the lunge rein and stood on the island. She looked at me askance, ears slightly back, and said "If you think I'm going to go round in that water, you've got another think coming, girl!" Then she tried to go round me ON THE ISLAND! She DID move away but was clearly most put out that her pretty feet were getting wet.

Here's Poppy on a sunny day.

Now I must sharpen some pencils. (No, they aren't individually named) I don't even USE pencils, but I find it a practical way of delaying getting on with my writing.


Oh, a lovely P.S. I DID contact Meg Rosoff and she DID reply, almost at once, to my delight. It's such a joy to come across kindred spirits by chance - only I think it was destiny.

But I would, wouldn't I?