# Tinkertack's Story



## Tinkertack (Mar 10, 2011)

I grew up on a rough and downright nasty council estate so it goes without saying my family did not have the money to spend on my hobby, one which just so happened to be a VERY expensive one. *Horses. 
*
Living in a rough area does have its benefits however and you soon learn the art of being cheeky and thinking nothing of shouting things like _“Oi Mister – can I ride yer ‘orse?”_ at complete strangers. We eventually got lucky and found out about an elderly gent that lived nearby, owned acres of land, several horses and couldn’t care less about them. He gave us the key to the field and practically let us do whatever we wanted – provided it didn’t cost. 

And so, I learned to ride when I was just six years old, using nothing but a head collar that was salvaged from the old guy’s shed and a couple of lead reins I made from rope and fastened together. We bought our own brushes and feed but that was about all we could stretch to. No decent feed, vaccinations, visits from the vet or farrier – nothing. We were careful with them because of this though, making real efforts to care for them as best we could afford but if I’m entirely honest, the poor things weren’t looked after. :-(

It wasn’t until a few years later I was given the luxury of a bridle that the old guy had been given from someone else. About a year later – a saddle. Oh my God a SADDLE!! 

He allowed us to use them on the condition we traipsed to and from his house with it every day. _“You’re not tekkin id ‘ome so don’t even bloody ask!”_

I struggled like hell to work out how to tack up, using a “How to care for horses” book as a guide with my friend. The two of us spent ages working out which bits went where from following step by step illustrations.

The more privileged horse and pony owners commonly referred to kids such as myself as “Tinkers”, in that we were as poor as ****house rats and looked every bit the part. The DIY halter and lead rein I cunningly made was nicknamed “Tinkertack” and in time, became a word used to describe any rough looking or cheap tack. 

Anyway, just a couple of years after we first designed the said "brand", we were walking to pick up the tack and saw the fields empty and the gate wide open. Worried sick that someone had let the horses out, we ran to the elderly gent’s house and found out he’d died. His daughter had sold the land, the horses and the tack within 48hrs of his death. 

For the next couple of years, we were occasionally allowed to ride other people’s horses and for the first time, hacked out on horses that had... wait for it – *SHOES!!* :lol::lol:

The clippety clop of shoes on tarmac and the smell of real tack was alien to us but it only made our love of riding grow even stronger. 
When the owners couldn’t be bothered to ride or weren’t keen on going out in bad weather, they let us take their horses out and we’d gallop across muddy football pitches, jump fallen logs and streams and generally have an absolute ball. 

Most of these snooty horse owners (which they were!) would initially praise my riding ability when I jumped on the back of a horse they described as _“too wick for someone your age”_ but their attitude changed the moment they heard I learned to ride.

As I grew older, I wanted to learn how to properly care for horses and somehow ended up having a “proper” riding lesson – and I hated it. The instructor made it the least enjoyable experience I ever had on a horse and I ditched after the third one. I’m sure her beef was with the way I learned to ride in the first place. She didn’t understand how or why I could ride so well, jump fallen logs and streams bareback etc, and yet not grasp the concept of riding a well-schooled horse from one letter to another.

Gradually, I started spending less and less time with horses because I had to. I couldn’t afford one of my own and no longer knew anyone else that did. I also found that the only horsey people I did know where soul destroying and intimidating. They looked down on me and made no attempt to hide it either and so I quietly slipped out and away from the scene. 

For almost twenty years I have been yearning to ride or even just spend time around horses, mucking out, grooming and doing all the less than pleasurable things that need doing nevertheless. 

I stop to stroke every horse I see in a field, view horses and ponies for sale or loan in our area and watch in envy as riders pass by on a stunning four-legged friend.


My daughter hasn't ever really been around horses to get the bug but she knows how much I adore the beautiful creatures and would love to see me with my own. 

Despite having not sat on a horse for well over twenty years, I have promised myself faithfully that I’ll get back into it within the next year or two, so I can learn how to properly care for horses and then once I’m capable and can afford to splash out and not rely on tinke- tack, I will buy one of my own. 

I can’t tell you how happy I will be when I eventually have to drag myself out of bed 5am to muck out and feed a horse. 

I *need* to do this and I’m _*going*_ to do it. I don’t doubt for a minute I will still encounter the same level of snobbery and prejudice as I did all those years ago, especially considering I live in what is generally considered an affluent area.

The difference this time round however is that I’m older, much more confident than most and have long since stopped caring what others think.:lol:

Watch this space!

_Tinks_ xxx :mrgreen:


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## Tinkertack (Mar 10, 2011)

Well, yesterday I got in touch with an old friend who has several horses on a yard which is probably less than two miles away from where I live. 

Her prize purchase is an ex West Yorkshire Police horse whom I will be meeting this weekend!


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## apachewhitesox (Dec 9, 2010)

woohoo good luck!!


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## tinyliny (Oct 31, 2009)

Thank you for sharing that wonderful story. I hope you keep a written record of that for you kids.

I wil love to hear how it feels for you to once again get on a horse's back.


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