Introducing Molly...

Tonight, I braved the Arctic weather and went horse-riding.  Thankfully, the road to the stables was gritted, so I made it there and back again safely.

Horse-riding is a luxury that's a bit beyond my income bracket, but I enjoy it so I keep on with it.  I'm not very good , though just recently I have improved somewhat, from being a hopeless horse-rider to being a merely indifferent one.  Sitting on a horse is straightforward enough.  The art of horsemanship is a different matter entirely.  To be working in perfect harmony and balance with the horse...  To me, it's as elusive as the Holy Grail.

I had a horse for nine years.  He was very hard work and a horrific drain on time and money, but I loved him to bits and was gutted when I lost him.  Squire was a chestnut hackney-connemara cross, and if he'd been human, he'd have been a rakish regency dandy.  He was a poseur, and quite besotted with himself.  He had an eye for pretty fillies, but when there weren't any fillies to keep him occupied, he was quite content to settle for a boy-horse.  And yes, he was a gelding...

My current partner-in-crime is Squire's polar opposite.  In human terms, she'd be a milkmaid with a white mob-cap and a yoke with accompanying pails.  She' s a piebald 'vanner' type pony, and a bit of a dingbat.  If she sees something that upsets her, she spooks.  If you persuade her that everything's okay, then you approach the same thing from a different direction or at a different pace, she'll spook as if she hasn't seen it before.  Tonight, she decided that some powdered snow sticking to the kicking-boards was an Abominable Snowman lying in wait to eat her.    She soon got over this little problem, and then we did quite well.  I even pushed the boat out and did some very tiny jumps.  Okay, so the schoolkids were hopping over fences that were twice as big, but hey.  Been there.  Done that.  Bought the tee-shirt.  I'm not quite so supple these days.  I don't bounce when I crash.

When it comes to horses, I'm a bit superficial.  I like flashy horses like Andalusians and Fresians and, failing that, a nice solid-coloured hunter type.  Something that carries itself with flair and panache.  I'm a bit of a horse-snob.  Piebald vanners don't fit in well with my expectations of what a handsome horse should look like.  But I have learned to appreciate Molly for what she is.  Okay, she won't win the showing classes at the Horse of the Year Show, but she's a pleasant little horse, and fun to work with.  It's quite refreshing, though, to be able to hand her back at the end of the night and know I don't have to worry about running out of hay or cleaning up mud-encrusted feet and checking them for mudfever.

On an entirely unrelated note... I've just been watching yesterday's episode of 'Great Railways of Britain'  hosted by Michael Portillo.  He's not my favourite tv personality - I'm afraid I remember the Thatcher era too well.  But it's a good programme and well-worth watching, if only for the Victorian architecture.  Manchester was featured tonight, with a marvellous former warehouse (now converted into a hotel) which hadlovely cast iron ballustrades on the stair and some gorgeous plasterwork. 

Introducing Molly...

Tonight, I braved the Arctic weather and went horse-riding.  Thankfully, the road to the stables was gritted, so I made it there and back again safely.

Horse-riding is a luxury that's a bit beyond my income bracket, but I enjoy it so I keep on with it.  I'm not very good , though just recently I have improved somewhat, from being a hopeless horse-rider to being a merely indifferent one.  Sitting on a horse is straightforward enough.  The art of horsemanship is a different matter entirely.  To be working in perfect harmony and balance with the horse...  To me, it's as elusive as the Holy Grail.

I had a horse for nine years.  He was very hard work and a horrific drain on time and money, but I loved him to bits and was gutted when I lost him.  Squire was a chestnut hackney-connemara cross, and if he'd been human, he'd have been a rakish regency dandy.  He was a poseur, and quite besotted with himself.  He had an eye for pretty fillies, but when there weren't any fillies to keep him occupied, he was quite content to settle for a boy-horse.  And yes, he was a gelding...

My current partner-in-crime is Squire's polar opposite.  In human terms, she'd be a milkmaid with a white mob-cap and a yoke with accompanying pails.  She' s a piebald 'vanner' type pony, and a bit of a dingbat.  If she sees something that upsets her, she spooks.  If you persuade her that everything's okay, then you approach the same thing from a different direction or at a different pace, she'll spook as if she hasn't seen it before.  Tonight, she decided that some powdered snow sticking to the kicking-boards was an Abominable Snowman lying in wait to eat her.    She soon got over this little problem, and then we did quite well.  I even pushed the boat out and did some very tiny jumps.  Okay, so the schoolkids were hopping over fences that were twice as big, but hey.  Been there.  Done that.  Bought the tee-shirt.  I'm not quite so supple these days.  I don't bounce when I crash.

When it comes to horses, I'm a bit superficial.  I like flashy horses like Andalusians and Fresians and, failing that, a nice solid-coloured hunter type.  Something that carries itself with flair and panache.  I'm a bit of a horse-snob.  Piebald vanners don't fit in well with my expectations of what a handsome horse should look like.  But I have learned to appreciate Molly for what she is.  Okay, she won't win the showing classes at the Horse of the Year Show, but she's a pleasant little horse, and fun to work with.  It's quite refreshing, though, to be able to hand her back at the end of the night and know I don't have to worry about running out of hay or cleaning up mud-encrusted feet and checking them for mudfever.

On an entirely unrelated note... I've just been watching yesterday's episode of 'Great Railways of Britain'  hosted by Michael Portillo.  He's not my favourite tv personality - I'm afraid I remember the Thatcher era too well.  But it's a good programme and well-worth watching, if only for the Victorian architecture.  Manchester was featured tonight, with a marvellous former warehouse (now converted into a hotel) which hadlovely cast iron ballustrades on the stair and some gorgeous plasterwork.