WARNING: horsey entry!
I'm at home in Bunclody.
I don't want to get over the crap that I went through before I decided to retreat here. But whilst here I had one of my worst ever alcoholic episodes. I don't recall much of it, but I have a grazed forehead, grazed temple and under my sparse hair down to my ear; also grazed hands to remember it by. One of my knuckles developed a massive blister which I sliced with a blade. If I had merely popped it with a needle it would have healed over and filled up again. It's questionable as to whether the blade was clean or not, but I don't often get infections. This time I did.
I went out doing some cross country with Harvey. I had the wound covered and was wearing gloves, but after I got down off the H and handed him to Claire to ride, I took my gloves off. Then I helped Trevor with his young gelding (twice), helped Cathy get big old dear Rusty out of the horsebox, loaded Willow, etc. so no wonder dirt got into my wound. (Never mind playing with cats and dogs all the time).
Trevor's horse pulled my old London-injured muscle again. His gelding is only four and not long broken. When he gets up on it, he needs someone to hold it. The horse is a sweet little boy, very friendly but so babyish. Problem is, as soon as Trevor's bum hits the saddle, the horse takes off in a broncho act. I was supposed to hold his head and walk him after Trevor got up, but the horse leaped away and yanked at my injured muscle, so I instinctively let go. Off he went, bucking like crazy, and eventually Trevor came off. To be honest, looking at the horse, I didn't envy him, but I know I wouldn't have fallen off myself. But I'm known for having a seat of superglue, or something. That's what the big shots say about me anyway.
Trevor's baby horse didn't actually run away after he fell (thank God, it's a fifty acre cross country course) but stood still while he stood up and I held his head again. This time I was more prepared so I held the rein closer to the bit and also had a hand on the horse's nose, to keep his head down and keep him walking. Trevor made it into the saddle and I got the horse to walk alongside me, till he broke into a trot - I asked Trevor "Are you ok now?" and he said he was, and owed me a pint. Little does Trevor know a pint would be my complete undoing.
So today, me, my ma and her best friend Ann went out for more cross country. It's a beautiful course that has been done up since I last rode it, about, maybe, eight years ago. Last time I rode it I was riding my ancient ex-racehorse Star - today was little different, since I have to be careful of Harvey in his old age with his arthritis and bad back. But Harv was having none of this medical business. I think something twigged in him the other evening and he realised that the owner was back. At first he was being a complete asshole to me, bullying me, trampling me, biting me, etc. But today he was really nice to me, and when I got up on him, all set to take off at a mighty gallop and take on the Puissance. I tried to slow him, or at least make sure the ground was good when he did want to have a gallop, bu there was no reasoning with Haychee today.
In fact, Ann's pony Connie is usually the one to take off, and Ann makes no effort to control her, so after Ann had turned away to the side of the field, I let Harvey out at an open gallop. He was going to do it anyway. I just thought it good manners to direct his imminent gallop away from Connie and Willow. Of course they saw and joined in.
After this little expendature of energy we all went seperate ways. I put Harvey into the water jump once, but I saw he strained to jump out again, so I gave that up. I kept him over a small portion of the course in the end, jumps I knew he could do on soft ground. Well, he didn't take them slowly, despite what I was trying!
The funniest thing about our expedition was how my mother told me Willow hated being parted from Harvey, and Connie (Ann's mare) hated being parted from Willow. The cross country course was spread over four fields, and at any given time I could hear a whinney from over a hill or far off in the distance. The only horse who couldn't give a damn was the one I was trying to convince to act his age.
I love that horse SO much!
My mother asked me to bring him up the mountain with her, to see if he wont gallop away at every opportunity. If he didn't, then she'd let her friend Claire ride him up there. Problem is, Harvey has now recognised who I am and will react accordingly. So we wont know. He probably wont gallop off with Claire, since he's a lazy f***er at heart, but now he knows I'm back he think he's 5 again, the stupid wee chestnut.
I don't want to get over the crap that I went through before I decided to retreat here. But whilst here I had one of my worst ever alcoholic episodes. I don't recall much of it, but I have a grazed forehead, grazed temple and under my sparse hair down to my ear; also grazed hands to remember it by. One of my knuckles developed a massive blister which I sliced with a blade. If I had merely popped it with a needle it would have healed over and filled up again. It's questionable as to whether the blade was clean or not, but I don't often get infections. This time I did.
I went out doing some cross country with Harvey. I had the wound covered and was wearing gloves, but after I got down off the H and handed him to Claire to ride, I took my gloves off. Then I helped Trevor with his young gelding (twice), helped Cathy get big old dear Rusty out of the horsebox, loaded Willow, etc. so no wonder dirt got into my wound. (Never mind playing with cats and dogs all the time).
Trevor's horse pulled my old London-injured muscle again. His gelding is only four and not long broken. When he gets up on it, he needs someone to hold it. The horse is a sweet little boy, very friendly but so babyish. Problem is, as soon as Trevor's bum hits the saddle, the horse takes off in a broncho act. I was supposed to hold his head and walk him after Trevor got up, but the horse leaped away and yanked at my injured muscle, so I instinctively let go. Off he went, bucking like crazy, and eventually Trevor came off. To be honest, looking at the horse, I didn't envy him, but I know I wouldn't have fallen off myself. But I'm known for having a seat of superglue, or something. That's what the big shots say about me anyway.
Trevor's baby horse didn't actually run away after he fell (thank God, it's a fifty acre cross country course) but stood still while he stood up and I held his head again. This time I was more prepared so I held the rein closer to the bit and also had a hand on the horse's nose, to keep his head down and keep him walking. Trevor made it into the saddle and I got the horse to walk alongside me, till he broke into a trot - I asked Trevor "Are you ok now?" and he said he was, and owed me a pint. Little does Trevor know a pint would be my complete undoing.
So today, me, my ma and her best friend Ann went out for more cross country. It's a beautiful course that has been done up since I last rode it, about, maybe, eight years ago. Last time I rode it I was riding my ancient ex-racehorse Star - today was little different, since I have to be careful of Harvey in his old age with his arthritis and bad back. But Harv was having none of this medical business. I think something twigged in him the other evening and he realised that the owner was back. At first he was being a complete asshole to me, bullying me, trampling me, biting me, etc. But today he was really nice to me, and when I got up on him, all set to take off at a mighty gallop and take on the Puissance. I tried to slow him, or at least make sure the ground was good when he did want to have a gallop, bu there was no reasoning with Haychee today.
In fact, Ann's pony Connie is usually the one to take off, and Ann makes no effort to control her, so after Ann had turned away to the side of the field, I let Harvey out at an open gallop. He was going to do it anyway. I just thought it good manners to direct his imminent gallop away from Connie and Willow. Of course they saw and joined in.
After this little expendature of energy we all went seperate ways. I put Harvey into the water jump once, but I saw he strained to jump out again, so I gave that up. I kept him over a small portion of the course in the end, jumps I knew he could do on soft ground. Well, he didn't take them slowly, despite what I was trying!
The funniest thing about our expedition was how my mother told me Willow hated being parted from Harvey, and Connie (Ann's mare) hated being parted from Willow. The cross country course was spread over four fields, and at any given time I could hear a whinney from over a hill or far off in the distance. The only horse who couldn't give a damn was the one I was trying to convince to act his age.
I love that horse SO much!
My mother asked me to bring him up the mountain with her, to see if he wont gallop away at every opportunity. If he didn't, then she'd let her friend Claire ride him up there. Problem is, Harvey has now recognised who I am and will react accordingly. So we wont know. He probably wont gallop off with Claire, since he's a lazy f***er at heart, but now he knows I'm back he think he's 5 again, the stupid wee chestnut.