Eggs is Eggs
Did you know that eggs don’t travel well in a backpack? I discovered this the hard way while I was working in England. I was the stable manager for an international jumper yard, and we were several miles from the nearest village. The village boasted a pub, petrol pump (not petrol station, a pump), post office and grocery – all in one tiny little building. (Gives you an idea of the size of the village.)
One of my regular chores was to pick up necessaries between our semi-monthly stock-up runs into the big city with the lorry. If I walked, it took about an hour each way. If I took one of the ponies, it was about half the distance by short-cut path, and that pony got his exercise for the day.
I’d sling on the backpack, climb on the pony, and we’d march down to the grocery. The path led through a sheep pasture, so we needed to deal with the gate. This was a hunting pony, so the gate wasn’t a problem – just up and over.
Except that on the way back this time, I had a dozen eggs along with some butter and cheese in the backpack (and I’d forgotten about the eggs). Landing after the gate was a novel experience … in a word, icky. Don’t try it. You won’t like the result. (I learned to dismount, open the gate and remount with eggs after that)