sixteen hands between my legs
- At September 22, 2012
- By Rachael
- In Blended families, Children, Seaside life
2
God I miss horses. It’s a bloody evil addiction which sneaks up on you when you’re not looking. I’ve been delivering no1 daughter to riding school for four weeks now and I can tell there’s no point in fighting this.
Off she went this morning and the urge to grab the (perfectly suitable for me, 15 hands cob) horse from her and jump on was overwhelming. Then she was pootling round the indoor school and I (ex-riding instructor) was hissing ‘heels DOWN’ every time she came past and willing her to tighten her reins.
Fortunately logic gave me a poke in the ribs (well, Rory started yelling loudly that THIS PLACE SMELLS AN AWFUL LOT LIKE POO) and I realised this is her time, not mine, and I made a silent exit from the viewing gallery to daydream over the following.
If you didn’t get bitten with the pony bug as a child, the sight of a wheelbarrow and a muck heap is unlikely to do it for you. But for those of you who remember weekends spent doing anything, anything to help and feel important at riding school, and for those of you blessed with a horse filled childhood, you’ll get this.
I’m booking myself on a beach ride next week. Photos to follow. (Yippee)
40s Chic
I never rode as a child, but I get totally where you’re coming from. I discovered horses as an adult and was smitten from my first riding lesson at the age of 39. I am now *ahem* in my 40s and have chronicled my love or horses – one Thoroughbred in particular – on my blog at 40s Chic. Once you’re addicted to horses, you’re always addicted to horses, there’s nothing that can wean you off the warm smell, the cuddles and the love they give back to you. I consider myself truly blessed to have known and loved my horse, and I know my life has been made a better place because of him. Even the smell of horse poo pulls at my soul.
Heather
You never recover from the urge to correct people’s heels.