Attended what was supposed to be a draft horse pulling contest today but my grandfather – the 96-year-old horseman with whom I attended because, as I said to him, When was the last time we did anything together that didn’t involve a hospital – misread the advert and didn’t see that the big horses didn't show up until 1800, but we did, instead, sit in the baking sun on a metal bleacher watching tough-as-hell ponies pull a fuckton of concrete blocks (2700 pounds, by the time we left). I dislike ponies, intensely. One bit me once, a long time ago. I still have the scar on my stomach. But I can, nonetheless, respect the little assholes’ physical prowess, if only begrudgingly. K and my grandfather will be attending the 1800 draft horse contest though now I kinda want to see a draft horse / pony tug of war.