Sixteen hands between your legs

It is a tradition (in my world anyway) to give one’s horse a gentle hack around the immediate countryside on the day before a competition.

You know, give your horse the opportunity to:
* Experience some gentle fun as he saunters through the village
* Frighten the living daylights out of motorists who, for some reason, find it incomprehensible that they might encounter a horse as they bomb through country lanes at stupidly ridiculous speeds in stupidly inappropriate vehicles
* Gawp at the flood damage
* Snigger at the things hanging on washing lines of remote cottages (oh yes he does, honest!)
* Spook, spin, starfish, get bug-eyed and startled by such horse-threatening unusual items as:
Grass
Trees
Birds (but I’ll admit that one in particular was an immensely large woodpigeon)
Cows (b*st*rds)
Cyclists (other b*st*rds)

Yet the aforementioned horse will remain completely calm when:
* asked to trot underneath two scary railway bridges
* a huge tractor goes past towing a long trailer carrying a combine harvester’s blades. Or (a few minutes later)
* we are passed by what (even to me) looks like the world’s largest combine harvester (it’s so large that we have to get off the lane!)

Horses, you see…

Very complex.

Anyway, to get back to my theme…

All these things are for the horse.

A hack – for the seriously competitive owner/rider – is a rare opportunity to:
* unwind a little
* ride for idle pleasure rather than for the pleasure of competing or preparing to compete
* receive some excellent mental therapy (horses are brilliant listeners, you should try it some time!)
* admire the wonderful English countryside
* do some wide-ranging thinking
* make some unlikely plans
* hatch a short story plot development that’s been incubating for a little while
* examine the newly-built barn conversions and wonder when, precisely, the brand new residents will realise they’re living in the middle of a working farm which also hosts a three-month-long shoot.

Hey ho.

Today was no exception.

Once we had returned to the yard I untacked, groomed, treated and turned out Big Vin.

Then I groomed and treated Beech.

Then set to the biggest tack-cleaning operation I’ve done in many moons:
Broke down Vin’s bridle
Broke down the jumping saddle
Broke down the dressage saddle
Then wet-cleaned
Then saddle-soaped
Then oiled
Then reassembled everything
And had a hot chocolate.

In amongst all of this hearty fun young Laura arrived.

Fresh-faced and not-very-tanned from her week in Gran Canaria.

We chatted.

She showed me some snaps.

And her tattoo (henna paint-job, it’ll be gone in a couple of weeks).

And some video clips.

Then I amazed her with my sole piece of trivia about the Canary Islands.

Then she went and amazed her mum with my sole piece of trivia about the Canary Islands.

See what an effect I have on people?

It’s a good job I wasn’t bullsh*tt*ng her!

I left the yard at 13.20, arrived back at the house at 13.40 via a quick stop at Morrisons.

As soon as I got in I vegged out.

Flumped on the couch and did…

I don’t know what.

Time passed.

Oh yeah.

I sent a text to one of the girls at the yard saying she could borrow my horsebox next weekend.

And I did some email stuff.

And…

Then it was 17.00 and time for me to go and fetch The Lovely S.

And now it’s nearly 18.30.

I’ve still got to clean and polish my leather riding boots, but apart from that I’m ready for tomorrow.

Now then.

Just got to sort out tea.

Brennig.