Videos of the Racehorses Back at Work! And 'Thunder', a Story!

Rizzmo

This is Rizzmo. He's a favourite in the barn where he's started his preliminary training (don't tell Audi).

See below for videos of both Audi and Rizzmo being ridden in the beautiful, enormous riding arena where they are preparing for training at Woodbine Racetrack.

Some of you have been asking about Book 7 in the Meg Sheppard Mystery Series. I don't draft an outline of the book before I start, so I don't know what's going to happen next, which I think makes writing more fun. However, it can also make it more challenging! I'm enjoying the characters and the settings, but I don't know how it's going to end! I've written about 64,000 words, which is roughly 3/4 of the book. I have a couple of plot twists in mind, and I'm looking forward to including them.

Blue Heron Books, Uxbridge, https://blueheronbooks.com/ continues to stock all my books, for which I am very grateful. And now Goodwood Mercantile also has them available https://goodwoodmercantile.com/.

And, of course, they are available on Amazon (both as e-books and in paperback), and can be ordered through any bookstore.

Thank you for your support.

Here's the story I wrote for the January meeting of the Uxbridge Writers' Circle. The words I had to use (it is a word challenge piece) were: dehumidifier; fan; Amazon; snow globe; delinquent; magnifier; Anthropocene; city; marsh. (These are shown in italics.)

I enjoy hearing the unique and creative stories of my fellow members. What would you write using these words? You should try it, it's great fun!

Thunder

Bartholomew Jenkins had a high opinion of himself—as a scholar, at least. He had recently graduated with a master’s degree. Self-assessment of his other attributes, however, rated low on whatever scale he used for such things. But he was not a psychologist or psychiatrist and barely understood himself, let alone other people.

People! They were the problem. He was reminded of their ineptitude as he sat in front of a fan which failed to cool him but sent his papers scurrying across the table.

These fascinating flappings encouraged the stray cat, Thunder, to jump up. He strolled nonchalantly onto the keyboard.

Bartholomew wiped some sweat off his face by pulling up his smart golf shirt and rubbing vigorously. The whirring and dripping noises of the dehumidifier irritated him and, after he’d rearranged his various precious rocks and other geological specimens to anchor his papers more effectively, he turned it off. Although the machine magically, to his mind, filled up with water, it didn’t capture his sweat and did a good job of adding to the unbearable heat.

Before he sat down again, he picked up the snow globe given to him as a joke at the student Christmas party by Secret Santa. There was a note: ‘See, the globe isn’t warming up’. Very silly, he thought, but he wished it were true. Even sillier, though, was that he was shaking it. It was such a pleasant scene of coolness with snowflakes fluttering down and not even melting. But it failed to make him feel any better.

Back to work.

He was embarking on his doctoral thesis. The idea of the Anthropocene was accepted, but he’d been delinquent in developing it further. One of the challenges was that the Anthropocene made Bartholomew angry. People! The Anthropocene was all about human influence on climate and the environment. It was obvious to Bartholomew, especially as he wiped more sweat off his face—his golf shirt was visibly damp—that the human population was responsible for climate change and not in a good way. The overwhelming risk to survival is us, he thought, as he reorganized his pieces of paper again.

The big question was, when did the Anthropocene start?  He believed it began with the Industrial Revolution. Perhaps he could prove that, or at least come up with a convincing argument so that the Anthropocene Epoch would be included in the Geological Time Scale. And perhaps he could influence the human race to pay more attention to climate change.

Thunder jumped up again and knocked his mug of pens and pencils over. Bartholomew took this to be a sign. He told the cat he was going out. He’d come back when the sun had set behind the tall city buildings, and it would be cool enough to think.

Bartholomew took the subway and a bus—fortunately, they were both blissfully air-conditioned—to Strawberry Marsh. It was near the shore of Lake Ontario, and a welcome breeze wafted over him as he lay on the parched grass at the edge of the marsh. The whole area was significantly drier and less alive than he remembered from his adolescence. Had this much deterioration happened in such a short time? Was it permanent? Or was it a natural blip? The orange blob would have you believe it was fake news.

He sat up and touched a wild strawberry plant with its creeping tendrils and tiny white flowers. Bartholomew wondered at so much beauty in some of the smallest things and trembled at the thought that this could be lost. His contemplation of humanity's negative influence on biodiversity overshadowed the pleasure of sharing a moment with the strawberry plant. He stood and started to amble, trying to shake off his sombre thoughts.

The sky, which had been a startling blue seconds before, was almost black, reflecting his mood. It was like twilight but without the stars. But thunder rumbled in the distance, so lightning would illuminate the marsh soon, and the anticipated downpour would help to quench the thirst of struggling life in the marsh. He reluctantly returned to the bus stop, hoping to avoid the soaking of the third golf shirt of the day.

By the time he arrived home, although his golf shirt had been soaked by huge drops of rain, he was cool at last. Sudden inclement weather provided more evidence, Bartholomew thought, of climate change. But people didn’t want to believe. It was inconvenient.

Thunder must have left through the cat door. He was an independent soul. But he’d been on the table again, and the pencils, pens and his precious magnifier were on the floor. The magnifier was essential to Bartholomew, and it was broken. He couldn’t read anything without it. So, he turned on the computer and, with the help of a large font and an enormous cursor, ordered a new magnifier to be delivered by Amazon the next day. He quashed his threatening fear that in this, and many other ways, he was contributing to humanity’s negative influence on the planet. Instead, he renewed his determination and vowed to work hard on his thesis tomorrow.

His purpose was to leave this awesome planet Earth with hope in his heart, rather than despair. It must be possible.

Bartholomew poured himself a whisky on the rocks: that’s what you can do with impunity when you’re eighty-five and bravely launching a new life and trying to save the World.

Vicky Earle Copyright 2026

Videos of Racehorses!

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/23a884_da50fc7c5c1f4d62a8aef587ab916d14/1080p/mp4/file.mp4

Rizzmo in Action!

Martin and I are partners in the ownership of Rizzmo and Audi's World.

Rizzmo is three years old, and Audi is four.

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/23a884_67686e2c1799458cb785b7c305f1cf1d/1080p/mp4/file.mp4

Audi's World in Action!

Audi is a spirited horse and can be more challenging to care for, whereas Rizzmo is a charming gentleman (the reason he's a barn favourite!). It'll be interesting to see how they each progress this racing season!

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Vicky