Racehorses on Vacation! 'Generation Gap', and Book 7?

This is Audi's World enjoying a great vacation at the farm where he was born.

See below for a video of him and Rizzmo.

Here's my latest story. It's a piece I wrote for the December meeting of the Uxbridge Writers' Circle. The words I had to use were: dump truck; water bottle; lightning; supreme; penny; cacophony; repose; holly; pudding.

I hope you enjoy reading it!

Generation Gap

Alexander had known it was inevitable. He’d been sitting on an uncomfortable metal bench outside the coffee shop every morning for several months. He clutched the top of his cane with his gloved hand and glowered from under his wide-brimmed hat, watching the comings and goings of the townspeople.

Alexander took a particular interest in the high school students—their hairstyles and their clothes. Their clothes! It seemed the current fad was to roll out of bed and keep one’s pyjamas on all day. He looked at his legs for reassurance. Yes, he’d remembered to wear his freshly steam-pressed trousers and the laces on his polished brogues were neatly tied.

But on this particular morning, he’d been captivated by a teenage girl—perhaps he should call her a young woman. He was definitely out of touch with political correctness. Anyway, this morning he’d finished his coffee and was watching the girl. Curiously, she had her long, bouncing locks dyed blue. Puzzled and fascinated, his eyes followed her. She was doing something with her phone, gazing at it intently. What was so captivating about those contraptions? He’d have liked to know. But perhaps not, because they seemed to control their owners, making them oblivious to their surroundings.

Yes, it was going to happen, and it did. The girl stumbled off the curb, her eyes still focused on the black square thing in her hands. She moved her thumbs rapidly with a dexterity Alexander envied.

Rising above the cacophony of street noises roared a diesel engine. The dump truck driver obviously saw the girl, but even though Alexander could hear the hissing of air brakes, he knew the driver would not be able to stop before hitting her as she continued to stare at that thing in her hands.

Alexander was shocked by his own response. He didn’t think he had it in him. Like lightning, he bolted towards the girl and, with supreme effort, pushed her out of the path of the huge, dirty, roaring dump truck that was hissing at him like a gigantic snake. Alexander saw the flash of blue running shoes, heard screams, and felt the scratchy road, but that was all.

He opened his eyes, surprised to be alive and even more surprised that he immediately recalled the girl and the truck. That was good. He wasn’t going senile. It was always a great feeling to get confirmation of that.

He wasn’t in much pain, and he could wiggle his toes and his fingers, so he’d be out of the hospital soon.

He took a deep breath and let out a huge shuddery sigh. Something moved in his peripheral vision. The girl was sitting by the window sucking on a water bottle, which made a disgusting gurgling noise as she put it down on the floor. That was another thing he didn’t understand. He may not have been senile, but he sure felt his age. Why did people nowadays have to have a water bottle, as well as their phone, with them at all times? He stayed adequately hydrated without that encumbrance.

Alexander glanced at the girl. He dreaded having to make conversation with someone two generations apart from his world. Whatever did these young people talk about? Perhaps they didn’t know how to talk. Perhaps they just used text messages—he thought that was the right term, but had no idea what it was, really.

“How are you? How do you feel?” She was suddenly by his side, looking down at him with a deep frown and red, puffy eyes. Alexander just wanted to lie in peaceful repose and wallow in self-pity. He thought that was justified, under the circumstances.

“I believe I’m in one piece.”

“I shouldn’t have been texting. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Were you hurt?”

“Not really. You saved my life. That’s what the truck driver said. He braked as hard as he could, but he had a full load, and he said something about momentum. The truck hit you after you’d pushed me out of its path. My name’s Giselle, by the way.”

Alexander was impressed that Giselle could talk as well as text, and she could even string a perfectly adequate sentence together. The future looked brighter than he’d feared. He smiled.

“The truck driver was devastated. He’s on stress leave. He thought he’d killed you. He bought you some new pants—the same as the ones you were wearing. Yours got torn and stained from the road and his truck.”

“That was thoughtful of him.”

“They’re hanging up over there for when you’re ready to leave.”

“They do look the same.” Alexander’s energy was waning. That was no good. He must get home and back to his old routine. That was what kept him going. But his mind kept returning to the accident.

“What was absorbing so much of your attention on the phone? I’ve often wondered what people see in them.”

“Oh, it was important. I’d received an alarm notification. My sister had fallen, and her caregiver hadn’t shown up. I was texting her to let her know I’d be back home in ten. She said she wasn’t hurt.”

“Is your sister unwell?”

“She has cerebral palsy.”

That’s when the penny dropped. Giselle was here for a reason. Both she and the truck driver must have assumed correctly, as it happens, that Alexander was filthy rich or, as Alexander preferred to put it, comfortably off. They were both after money. It had happened to him before, and that was one of the reasons he led a solitary life.

But, as if she could read his mind, she said, “We’re fine financially. Our father left us a small fortune, and I’ve become a successful investor. And, in case you’re wondering, I paid the truck driver for his trouble and inconvenience, so there’s no need for you to think about money.”

“I thought you were a high school student.”

“Oh, probably because of my hair.” She chuckled. “I don’t like it either. I dyed it blue because Marie, my sister, is an avid Maple Leafs fan, and I’d dyed hers. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“There’s no need. Really. I’ll be leaving soon, I’m sure.

“Another few days is what I’ve heard.”

Alexander was relieved when she finally left, taking her noisy water bottle with her. But when he woke up later, he was disturbed. Despite the obvious drawbacks and irritants, her company had helped to pass the time, which dragged on interminably when he was alone, staring at the ceiling. He refused to watch trashy television shows.

The next day Giselle showed up with a small Christmas pudding proudly adorned with a sprig of holly.

“What’s all this for?” His smile gave away the fact that he was chuffed.

“You’re a Brit, and my mother was a Brit. She loved Christmas pudding, and we always had sprigs of holly all about. It’s only seven days to Christmas.”

“That is thoughtful. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to heat it up. You can eat it like cake. Marie and I tried one to be sure. By the way, she wants to meet you because you saved my life.”

“Look, I want you to forget about that. You don’t owe me anything.”

“We owe you everything, and you’re going to be our friend whether you like it or not. And there’s something else. Jason, my tech buddy, is going to set you up with a smartphone.”

“So I can text and get hit by a dump truck?”

They both laughed, which signalled the start of a long and happy friendship.  

Vicky Earle Copyright 2025

Racehorses on Vacation!

Audi's World is a different horse thanks to the TLC he's receiving at his home from Franz and Danielle Crean.

He wasn't doing well at the racetrack and had gone off his feed, so he was brought home earlier than originally planned. You can see that he's happy!

Rizzmo (the second horse shown in this video) is also doing well and having fun playing in the field with Audi.

Our 2025 racing season was one of the most disappointing, but as racehorse owners, we are eternally optimistic and look forward to 2026!

Certainly, visiting Audi and Toby (Rizzmo) fuelled our enthusiasm for the next racing season. I'll keep you posted!

Book 7?

My writing has been stalled for a couple of months for various reasons (except for short stories for Uxbridge Writers' Circle meetings).

I reached 40,000 words of the first draft of book 7 in my Meg Sheppard Mystery Series, and then life got in the way!

But I haven't given up...

Thank you for reading my post, and please share.

Happy New Year!

Vicky