# Childhood memories.



## Hondo

Subscribing.......


----------



## Reiningcatsanddogs

Foxhunter, so glad to see you do this! I have loved your stories for so long!


----------



## Foxhunter

The two girls I had been to Pococks stables with had several months start on me at the new riding school - their parents were rich compared to mine! 

I was surprised when I saw the stables, they were nothing much at all. Three loose boxes and the others tied up in the pony shed, two rows of them, one half under cover, the other open to the elements.

The place was owned by a Miss Fleming and her partner Mr Trumble - both seemed ancient to me. I was on a novice ride accompanied by Miss Fleming. The pony I was allowed was Pixie, a 13.2 part Exmoor. For the first time ever I was shown how to mount correctly.
We went out up over the Downs, I thought I was doing very well but Miss Fleming, at the back of the ride would be shouting out orders of "Heels down on Pixie." or, "Shorten your reins on Pixie." It was endless. Her voice would resonate all around and I just wished I wasn't riding a pony called Pixie. 

Back at the stables it was lunch time so they were all untacked, had their saddle patches brushed off and given a feed. I was allowed to help feed and then told I was to young to stay so to go home. 

I worked it out that the bus fare was four pence each way. If I walked the three miles home and the three miles there, in four weeks I would have enough for an extra ride. I was only allowed to rode every other week and the time seemed to drag so slowly and then the hour riding go so fast. My birthday was soon and if everyone gave me money I could get a course of twelve lessons. 

I was way to young to work but, running errands to the shops usually brought a monetary reward. All this went into my riding pot. Later, when the summer holidays started I knew I could get more helping to clear the beach of any litter and with lunch find some pop bottles and collect the deposit charged onnthem. There was always the added chance of finding coins in the sand. 

So, with birthday and Christmas money I was able to ride most weeks. I would arrive as early as I dared and loiter as long as I could after each ride. The day came when I wasn't sent home and stayed all day until the ponies were ridden bareback out to the fields. The pride I felt when I was allowed to join them and ride Molly to the furthest field. My experiences on Snowball stood me in good stead and I was perfectly comfortable without a saddle.


----------



## Foxhunter

Riding became routine. I spent all the time I could at the stables. We all worked our hearts out. Soon, on a Saturday I was getting to the fields early to catch and bring the horses in for their work, then on a Sunday, which was their day off, a group of us would go out and bring some of the ponies in from the Down fields to the home paddocks so the girls working there didn't have so many to bring in. 

in the winter we would, tide allowing rode on the beach. By this time I had been promoted front the beginners ride to Miss Fleming's 9.20 ride. There were no lead reins on this rode and we could get more canters. 
This particular Saturday eight of us rode down to the beach. The stables were on a ridge well above the town. We would rode down to the Old Village and then down a tarmac path to the beach. 
At the time some of the ponies had been pony racing in the summer so were fairly keen to go. Miss Fleming was always particular over what horse she rode. She didn't like anything that was to lazy or to hot. This particular Saturday she was riding Faro, Mr Trumble's hunter. Being an Anglo Arab and very fit, he was inclined to spook a lot and known to put in the odd buck or three. 
We all groaned when we saw her pull him out, we knew that this was going to be a slow ride. 

We got down onto the beach, the tide was well out, the sand flat and inviting for a good canter but, just as we thought, we had to stay in single file behind her and trot serpentines and then, with her in the centre and is all in a line, do a 'wheelie' as she did a turn on the forehand. We all vied to be on the outside so we could get a bit of a canter. When we reached the end of the beach we were lined up to play 'Simon Says.' I begged to be Simon and was allowed to issue the orders.
"Simon says, touch your right toe with your left hand." 
"Get off." 
So it went on all very boring. We all knew the game and no one was making a mistake. I had a thought about how to liven it up and said, "Simon says, gather up your reins." 
"Simon says, feet in your stirrups."
"Simon says, gallop!" 
So we did. Flat out along the sands only to find that none of us could stop. We went over the stones, up a slipway around a sharp corner up the path onto the road.
Even then the ponies wouldn't stop, we raced along the road, down through the Old Village finally stopping up the hill by the Cottage Hospital. 
It was only then did we realise that Faro was with us, minus Miss Fleming. 
The ponies were breathing hard and we were flushed from both excitement and fear. A discussion was held over going back for Miss Fleming or back to the stables. We decided on the latter as we might get to have a jump in the arena. 

We didn't exactly tell the truth over what had happened but we were told to put the ponies away. We thought Mr Trumble would drive down to pick Miss Fleming up but he just muttered and said the walk would do her good. 

Nothing was ever said about this venture but the next week I had been promoted to riding with Mr Trumble. 
One summer Saturday I was told I wasn't riding until the afternoon ride instead of the 10.30. It was explained to me that there was a special task I was to do. 
Lunchtime Mrs Trumble and another lady appeared and took me outside to apply makeup to my face. Mr Trumble explained that the Rotary Club he was a member of, had a bet on with the RAF over whether they could or couldn't break into the radar station on top of the Downs. 
My task was to be run away with and to fall off outside of the gates and pretend to be unconscious. I was then made to lie on the ground and remain totally floppy as they lifted me up. I passed muster and off on the rode we went. 

I was riding a pretty pony Trixie. She was one that Pony Raced and was always inclined to go from A to B at a fast pace but she always stopped where she should. We went on a normal ride along past the Radar Station trotting and cantering and then we turned back towards home. I was told to go off, I kicked Trixie and off she went. We were alongside the road and she scooted round the corner before the gates like it wasn't there. I quit my stirrups, wondered how I was going to bail out as I hadn't been told. I hit the ground running before 'falling' and rolling. Trixie continued her way home and I lay there. 
Mr Trumble rode up and asked the gateman to call an ambulance. A couple of RAF men came out and they carried me into the gatehouse laying me on a table. I remained floppy the whole time, my eyes closed.

Soon I heard the bell pf an ambulance arriving (way before they had sirens) The ambulance backed in toe open gates and the door burst open with a dozen men making machine gun noises whilst pointing sticks at the RAF men. 

There were cries of "That's not fair! We would never open the gates if there was a real war." 

The local Rotary members thought it was all fair game. They had been trying for a month to break in but always the Alsations, kept leashed for the duration of the bet, had always found them out. 

I haven't a clue as to what the final outcome was but I do know that I was charged for the ride!


----------



## Hondo

Demand a refund! Well, if there's anyone left to refund.


----------



## Foxhunter

No, they have been long passed! 
Miss Fleming was in her 80s when she died some 40 years ago. Mr Trumble a few years later and he too was in his 80s.


----------



## knightrider

Ha ha--I am loving these stories. Your being charged for the ride you did to help them win the bet sounds like what happened to my daughter and me. We survived an airplane crash and I called and said I thought we shouldn't have to pay since the airplane crashed. They said the airplane got us to our destination and we survived, so they refused to let us off from paying.


----------



## Foxhunter

* That autumn I was allowed to enter the Pony Club one day event. I was going to be riding Molly. Molly knew all about teaching children.

I learned the dressage test until I knew it backwards. This was not an easy test as there were counter canters, turns on the forehand and haunches, extended trots and anything else they thought they would throw in. 

Miss Fleming set up a dressage arena marking it with poles at the corners and one pole either of the long sides. The letter markers were pinned to the poles. We practised, several times. It was really just to prove that we all knew the test rather than how to do the movements. 

The grand day arrived, we rode to Perreton Farm where the PC had many of their events. 
My tum came and Miss Fleming issued the order of "Ride right to the markers." 

I entered the arena at a jog trot. Molly wasn't going to do anything more. I wasn't allowed to carry a stick and she knew it. Halted at X, bowed and jogged on. At C I turned left and the judge blew the car horn. This was a signal that I had gone wrong, but _I hadn't _ so I continued on my merry way. The hooter kept hooting and I kept ignoring. 
Molly and I continued with our jog through all the movements from walk to canter. The forehand/haunches turns were just very tight circles. The hotting had stopped about halfway through the test. 
Finally we jogged up the centre line and halted, I saluted and the judge got out of her car. She was smiling as she walked towards me and kindly said, "My dear, you have gone terribly wrong."
I looked at her and burst into tears "I haven't." I sobbed.
She went on to explain that I was meant to stay inside the poles not rode to where the markers were, set back from the poles. 

I had only been doing as Miss Fleming had told me - riding to the markers. 

The good thing was that I did get some marks for entry and a couple of movements on the centre line. Even better was that I wasn't last! 

We had walked the cross country course and I was so looking forward to it. 

Miss Fleming was Jump judging so the two girls who worked at the stables took us over the practise jump which was a short pole carried in the back of the Bedford van and held by two volunteers. 

I set off on the CC, Molly, knowing I had a whip was willing to go. Miss Fleming was at jump five or six, a drop fence with a ditch on the landing side. On approaching it she started to yell instructions, "Shorten your reins, sit up, legs LEGS *LEGS!*" we cleared it and I heard her booming out, "Well done my dear, give her a pat." 

After the CC I tied Molly to the picket line tomwait for the show jumping. I went across to the catering tent next to the secretary and overhead a woman complaining of a lady shouting instructions to her riders at fence six. Dr Howie Wood. The District Comissioner for our branch, just replied. "Madam, go back there and watch, you will see that she helps _every rider."_ That was Miss Fleming, always fair! 

End of the day I wasn't placed but we rode home tired but happy. To this day I think I am the only person who has ever done a dressage rest outside the arena


----------



## Foxhunter

*It had been very wet and that winter I had enough money saved to pay for my first day out hunting. The Meet was not far from the stables. Again I was meant to be riding Molly but she had pulled a shoe so, instead I was on Pixie.

Back then jodhpurs were made from Cavalry Twill a mostly wool mix. They were baggy and although warm in winter they were very itchy. Children wore tweed jackets and short boots. 
So, the big day arrived. I plaited Pixie, they might well have resembled footballs but they were mostly hidden under his thick winter coat. I brushed him as clean as I could, it had been dry overnight so mud was removeable. 

We walked and trotted the two miles to the Meet, held on this occasion at a farm just outside of the town. Mr Trumble looked resplendent in his hunting red and mounted on his hunter, Valdora Jane. The Meet was a hive of activity, people handing around food, small bite sized sausage rolls and sandwiches, mince pies and fruit cake. Adults were handed glasses of mulled wine or port. Hounds were milling around the huntsmen and quick to gather up any dropped goodies or even trying to help themselves from the trays people were carrying. 

I had read and reread the Pony Club book on the laws of hunting. Mr Trumble had drummed into us to turn our ponies to face hounds and not tomallow them to kick. We knew about keeping a distance between you and the horse in front and most importantly, to stay behind the Field Master who on this occasion was him. Children were also expected to stay to the back of the field except when there was a gate to open and then they were to be quick to open it for everyone else. 

Pixie, along with many other horses and ponies was shaking and sweating with excitement. Finally afternwhat seemed an eternity, the Huntsman blew his horn and he, the whips and hounds rode out the drive and down the road. Hounds and Hunt staff went into a field whilst the rest of us followed Mr Trumble down a farm track. 

Pixie was being very strong and kept tarring his head down. My reins were slippery from his sweat and my hands kept sliding down the reins. 
We all stopped when Mr Trumble went to open a gate at the end of the track. Before I knew it Pixie, always a good games pony was weaving his way through the other horses and as Mr Trumble was dragging the gate open he jumped it and took off with me across an open field and into a copse at the end where hounds were casting. 

I was frightened of being in so much trouble and scratched from low braches. I didn't know what to do. Tears blurred my eyes and I really thought that I would be banned from hunting for life. 

Hounds started to speak and I heard someone hollering the far side of the copse. Not knowing where I was, or the way out of the copse, imface Pixie's head into a large oak tree so he couldn't take off with me again. 
I was so ashamed I waited until it was quiet and rode back out the copse. I seemed to be in a different field to the one I had been carted across and I quietly rode to a gate.
This was an old wooden gate tied up with bailer twine. I dismounted to open it. Pixie was trying to get away but I held on for dear life. The mus was halfway to my knees and I could feel my boots filling up. I managed to get the gate open and closed, Pixie was messing around so much that I couldn't get on again so I led him across the next field which led into the farm yard. Another gate, slightly easier to open but leading into the cow yard which was even deeper in liquid cow muck. 
Eventually I got back onto the road and mounted Pixie. I sat on him for hours waiting for someone to come. Eventually Mrs Howie Wood, the Drs wife drove along and stopped. She was so nice that the tears flowed again. She assured me that everything would be OK and it was probably best if I rode back to the stables. 
I did this and as I was nearly at the field leading to the stables, so I npmet Miss Fleming going out with her 11.30 ride. I had been out for all of thirty minutes from the Meet including the twenty minute hack home! 

I was never banned from hunting, in fact, people were very kind about the whole incident, remarking on how well I had jumped the gate. (As of I had had a choice!) I do not know how long it was before I hunted again and when I did it was on a pony that had brakes.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I was spending all my spare time at the stables. I just couldn't get enough of it despite having to work hard. We were taught well. Mr Trumble rides were very military amd we were sent up the jumping lane without stirrups, without stirrups and reins and then taking our jackets off as we went down the line of jumps then putting it back on the next time. 
When we fell off it was cause for laughter and teasing. Bruises admired. We also would have to canter around the arena and remove the horse's saddle. Absolutely no purpose to it other than making us supple, confident and very well balanced. 

Valdosta Jane, one of Mr Trumble's hunters was always turned out for a while in the late spring. She was a difficult horse to keep condition on so, April she disappeared to go to some farm amd was brought back nicely rounded at the end of July. 
That winter Jane kept rounded, she was hunted as usual and only at the beginning of March did it show that she was in foal. Evidently a New Forest yearling had got in with her, no one thought anything had happened but Jane knew otherwise! 
She produced a colt foal in the April. She and the foal were away from the stables. They returned in Julymspmthat they could be shown at the local county show. 

A local livestock transporter was hired to take the horses and ponies entered in the show. Several of us children were put into the luton of the lorry, then the horses loaded. 
Jane and Timber, her colt, were loaded last. Someone led Jane up the ramp expecting Timber to follow but he dived around the side of the lorry. Jane panicked and threw her head up hitting it on the roof. She was unloaded and seemed fine. They loaded Timber first and Jane followed. They were taken down the village to be turned out i a field on their own. 
Next morning three of us went down to bring them in. I was to open and close the gates. 
We went down across the field to the village and as we walked down the lane towards the field they were in we could see Jane lying down and Timber standing by her.
"Jane's dead." I said.
"Don't be stupid, she is just sleeping." 
"No," I said, "She's dead. Timber keeps pawing her and she isn't moving. She's dead." 

Unfortunately I was right, Jane had been dead for several hours. I was sent back to the stables to tell Mr Trumble whilst the two brought Timber. 
When I told him Jane was dead and they were bringing Timber back, he was furious amd said she was just sleeping and when she missed her foal she would just charge through the fence.
He rushed off to see what was happening. We could hear Timber whinnying but no reply. 

A while later Mr Trumble came back and he looked at me and said, "You're right, she's dead." 

I was amazed that he wasn't upset. Jane had been a firm favourite of his so I asked him why.
He put his arm across my shoulders amd said, "My dear, of you cry over one, you will cry over them all and that is going to mean a lot of tears. Jane had a good life and obviously died quickly as there were no struggle marks. It could have been worse for her." 

It was thought that she had a brain haemorrhage after banging her head though there were no signs of it when she was turned out. 

Timber went off thatnafternoon and was turned out with a couple of youngsters. We didn't see him again until he was four years old.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Sometimes if I had been naughty I was banned from the stables. This didn't happen very often and I wasn't confined indoors. 

Somehow a gang of boys had had a run in with a group frommthe next town, it had been arranged for a 'fight' in the Landslip, a well treed area between the two towns. I and another girl had long been accepted into the gang as we didn't cry and could hold our own. 

Being organised the time had been arranged for 10 a.m. I suggested, using logic, that we got there early and surprised them. 

We abandoned our bikes by the side of the road. It was quite a safe thing to do as no one would dream of taking them, and walked to the Wishing Stone. We clambered up to a ledge and someone suggested we went to the next ledge up. We were all scratched and stung but it was a great spot for an ambush. Most were armed with home made bows and arrows, me - I had a catapult Dad had made from an ash branch, a bikes inner tube and a piece of old shoe leather. I boast when I say I was a good shot. 

We lay in wait for what seemed like and eternity until we heard them coming. When they saw no one was there they decided to set an ambush and climbed to the first ledge. We were all so quiet until the command of "Fire!" was shouted. 

Sticks, sorry, arrows wobbled there was down in a hail, there were yells and shouts of "That's not fair!" But we took no notice. 

When I was presented with the catapult I was told never to sling stones with it so I didn't, I slung marbles! I had a few direct hits but had run out of ammo so picked up some mud. I happened to find a peach stone someone had thrown off the top cliff. I aimed at a boy running away and it hit him fair and square on the back of hos head. 

He went down as if he had been pole axed and lay there. Nothing happened for a moment or two and then the blood started to flow and how. 

I was absolutely certain I had killed him and was all calmboured through undergrowth and ran back to our bikes. 

All that summer, if I saw a policeman I went the other way. I was so sure the lad was dead. 

I never again went gang fighting by making sure I was always at the stables. 

I totally forgot about the incident logic telling me the boy had to have been OK or there would have been consequences.

Several years later I went out for the evening with a girl from the stables. We met up with a group pf lads she knew and I was introduced. When Pam said where I was from one of the lads said, "I don't like people from there. Years ago someone hit me with a stone in the back of the head and I had to have loads pf stitches. They played dirty and were laying in wait for us."

I honestly felt a relief that he was OK. Of course I had to tell him that they were going to lay in wait for us and it wasn't a stone but a peach colonel"
He didn't believe me until I told him that he had been wearing a green sweater and where it was he had been hit. 

I am glad to say I was forgiven although poor Lou was ragged for being beaten by a girl.


----------



## horseluvr2524

Love your stories Foxhunter. I think it's amazing you remember your childhood so clearly. I sure don't have too many specific stories from mine!

Please keep the memories coming


----------



## Foxhunter

* I cannot remember people's names but remember animals. I can clearly remember many things happening from very early like my third birthday and getting Big Ted from maternal grandparents. Standing on a chair trying to undo the string around the box as everything was saved back then. My Grandfather was a grumpy grampy and very strict. He had a knife that was not allowed to be used by anyone and he held my hand holding hos knife and helped me cut the string. 
Big Ted, (He wasn't very big at all) finally demised a few years ago from over loving. 

Another thing about very early and Big Ted was when my mother went to the Maternity Home to have my sister. My God Parents came to look after me. Aunts Dorry and Uncle Tom. Dad moved across to his mother's as we only had a two bedroomed house. Aunts Dorry was very house proud and you had to take your shoes off when you came in. 
Big Ted had already worn out the front of his paws. Aunty Dorry cut up an old pair of leather gloves and sewed them onto hos paws. They were still there when he demised!

The kitchen in that house was tiny. I would stand on a box and help dry the dishes. I could turn and place them on a dresser. Mum would wash up and get another towel to help me dry but Aunty couldn't have two tea towels on the go at the same time. She grabbed the towel from me telling me I was to slow. I dropped the saucer I was drying and it broke. 

When Mummy came home from the nursing home (women use to have at least a week bed rest after a birth) she promised me that I could be the first to hold the baby of I had been good. I was told to sit in an armchair and not to move to Mum because I might hurt the baby. 
Mummy came in holding Sally and I sat there. She asked if I had been good and Aunty said, "Well, she broke a saucer." 
That was it for me, I burst into tears, kicked her on the shins and ran to Mum saying that it had been an accident. 
Aunty held out their arms to hold Sally but Mummy said, "I promised Linda."
I was sat back in in the chair with my legs straight in front of me with my sister on my lap. I got pins and needles in my legs. 

From that point on I knew if Mummy promised something you got it whether it was a spanking or a bar of chocolate!


----------



## Foxhunter

*Every non schoolday was spent at the stables bar Sunday mornings, those afternoons a group of us would bring some of the ponies in from the Downs to the home fields. 

My Mother was always telling us how her father, when she was a child, had a cob mare, Peggy, that pulled a cart taking him to his work around the area they were living at the time. Mummy would tell us how she and her brother and sister would rode Peggy in the orchard amd she would like to come up to the stables with us. For me this was an awful thought. My sister and cousin had started riding to have my mother as well seemed way to much. 

Eventually Mummy came with us one Sunday afternoon. We were bringing in several horses and ponies from the furthest field from the stables. 
Back then women rarely ever wore trousers, certainly my mother didn't so she took a pair of father's to put on when she got to the field. 
Whilst we caught the animals Mum hid behind a bush to change. All of a sudden there was a lot of wolf whistles, cheering and yelling. . Mum was well hidden from the people in the car park opposite the field gate but a group pf school children were way up at the top of the hill and could see what she was doing. 

It was decided that Mum would be best on Cleo, a bay cob mare around 15.2. Everyone vaulted on tomhe horses they were riding whilst I held Cleo for Mum. 
Mum was around 5'4" whilst Dad was over 6' somto say the trousers were a bit big is an under exaggeration and she had not brought a belt. 
Refusing to allow me to give her a leg up saying I would throw her over the other side, she said she would get on from the stile. Mum stood on the stile step whilst I held Cleo. I explained to her to jump to the withers and not the back amd to kick with legs together to boost herself up.

This was summer time, there were a lot of people around amd most stopped to watch the horses and the school,party was now gathered around. Mum jumped to the withers and knees together kicked to boost herself up. When high enough she went to put her leg across Cleo's back only to find the the crutch of the trousers was only just above her knees and therefor wit was impossible for her to sit across the mare. She slid down laughing. 
The audience also laughed. 
I was embarrassed, I had called her Mum whereas my sister and cousin were acting as if they had never seen her before. 

She tried again, same thing happened. More laughter. Someone was taking a cine film of it all. I was dying inside. The more people laughed the more Mum played to them. More people gathered and, as happens when there is a crowd, more cars pulled into the car park. Nowadays I would have gone around with a hat but back then I just wanted to crawl in a hole. 

In the end Mum stood on the top of the stile, she needed one hand to hold the trousers up. Two men helped her balance by holding a leg and supporting her back. I led Cleo to her so that she could just step on but the mare was getting fed up and moved leaving Mum on the ground shrieking with laughter. 
Mum clambered to the top of the stile again and we stood a ridden pony alongside Cleo so she couldn't swing out, Mum stepped and landed on the mare's back. 
A great cheer went up and Cleo spooked a bit, fortunately Mummy stayed on top. We left the field and I decided to have Mum never want to come again so we trotted all the way. 

I was astounded at how well she rode, Mum never bounced or moved once and was perfectly balanced. Considering it had been many years since she had been on a horse she did well. However, it took her a week before she stopped aching!


----------



## Foxhunter

*Around this time Margaret, Mr Trumble daughter returned home. She had been away for a few years working towards getting her Instructors examination. 
The stables had always had remedial horses and ponies in but on Margaret's return more were sent. 

Money for me was tight, I worked where I could, but most jobs interfered with riding time plus the fact that I was suffering with stronger and longer migraines often keeping me in bed for two or three weeks. I loved our GP, Dr Graham-Stewart. He would come see me and when I wasn't recovering tell me to "Get outside for plenty of fresh air." so, off to the stables I would go for a few days until Mother sent me back to school. 
I had all sorts of tests done to see what the trigger was but nothing came up. Dr gave Mum a sealed envelope and told her to open it when I was finished with school. Mum did this and inside was 'Migraines triggered by an allergy - to school!' He had noticed that I rarely suffered a migraine in the holidays and if I did they were over with very quickly. He was so right because, touch wood, I have never suffered another since leaving school. 
I am sure, in retrospect, that it was because I was bored. There were some good teachers I worked for but e rest I did as little as possible and pushed the boundaries as far as I could. Bet no one has seen a French teacher standing on her desk shrieking because a pet ferret had sniffed at her legs. I was the heroine and caught the ferret saying I would release him outside. I took him outside and returned for the packing up of things with said ferret safely where he should be, in my pocket. 
No one in class let on.

I have digressed. 

With Margaret came the naughty ponies. A bay 13.2 arrived with the stables being his last chance to stop bucking. The older children were told to ride him and they took it in turns. I was longing to have a go but was told I was to inexperienced and young. 
I watched this pony buck them all off with very little effort, on the lunge, off the lunge with Margaret there and without. In the end they all gave up and I was allowed to have a try. 
I was bucked off but instead of getting after the pony I just clambered back on and tried again. In the end he gave up and was walking and trotting around without bucking. I even had a canter. 
Margaret turned up as I had just finished and asked what I was doing riding him. I told her that everyone else had given up so let me have a try. 
I was covered in the black ash of the clinker surface on the arena but so happy. Next day he bucked with me and then just gave up when I climbed back on top. He stayed for the summer, was worked in the riding school amd then sold by his owner.

_Today people would be screaming pain, saddle fit needs the vet, chiropractor massage therapy et al, but although vets were around none of this would have been considered, the issue was, and still is majority of the time, he had learned how to do it and get a rider off thus getting out of work. _


----------



## Foxhunter

*Riding in and out to the field was done bareback and with rope halters, home mad plaited out of the sisal bailer twine. 

There was a rough, pot holed track across an open field owned by Miss Fleming's brother. This field was usually cut for hay and then hos pedigree herd of Ayrshire dairy cows would graze it. When the cows were gazing we could canter on the grass, never towards home amd always on rides. This didn't stop us cantering bareback often when the grass was not yet cut. 

On one occasion I was riding Molly and leading Trixie out to the fields. We were cantering along when I had the grand idea to be a circus order and stand up on their quarters. This I did surprisingly easily. The problem was that I had Molly's halter rope tied to the noseband so once up I had nothing to hold her with. I managed to stay there to the end and the gate was closed. Hereby lay my undoing. I was to slow to drop down onto Molly's back, she went right and Trixie left. I fell between them and landed on my wrist. 
That hurt and when I looked down the bones were well out of place.

The others were all,laughing until they saw my arm. It was decided that most of them would take the ponies on out to the fields and I and another girl would walk back to the stables to call for an ambulance. 
I remember biting my lower lip as we walked back. Mr Trumble had gone how and there was no one at the stables. I turned to the girl and said, "Bags I dial 999 for the ambulance, I haven't done it before!" 

We walked back to the road and waited a few minutes before the ambulance arrived. The friend went on home promising to tell my parents what had happened.

At the ER I was X-rayed and taken to theatre to have my arm set. When I came round my Mother and her friend were waiting to take me home. No sympathy from Mum at all, she just told me it served me right for being a fool. 
As I was made to go to school on the Monday it seemed only right I went to the stables again at the weekend. I rode as normal and although some tasks were limited worked doing what I could. 

Riding out was far more risky than riding in because we did silly things. Trotting races that turned into a gallop, often not stopping at the fields. We would also rode the ponies up the Downs in their fields which was fine until they got fed up knowing their day's work was over, and found a variety of way to drop us. 
Usually we walked on home from the fields, sometimes rather than along the road we would walk along the foot of the Downs and on more an one occasion tried riding the young beef cattle that were turned out there. I would never have made a bull rider. Fortunately most of the time we could even catch them.


----------



## egrogan

I think I've said it before, but I can't help but be envious of your childhood experiences. In my head, I had daring adventures like this-but in reality, I simply took occasional lessons and read every book about horses I could get my hands on. Thanks for sharing your stories with us!!


----------



## Foxhunter

Thank you.


----------



## Foxhunter

*I remember winters back then being a lot colder than those of recent years. We didn't get a lot of snow but it would often be very cold and breaking ice on the water tanks would take a large flint stone to smash. 

It was Christmas 1962. Boxing Day, when it started to snow that evening. The winds were high and looking out the window the snow was flying horizontally across the next door bungalow roof. Cousin wa switch us and she was so excited asking "Will it still be here in the morning?" 

It was. On opening the front door there was just a wall of snow completely covering it. The drifts were high to the point that a couple along the road had snow halfway up their second floor window. 
We could get out the backdoor, Daddy had cleared a path from that door up the steps to the road. He dug out the neighbours and went to help other elderly family friends and relatives clear paths and bringing in wood and coal so they could light their fires. I wanted to go to the stables but wasn't allowed until Daddy could come with us to see how safe it was. 
The whole pf the IK was shut down, several feet of snow had fallen, trees had been brought down and then it all just got colder and colder and we were in what became known as The Big Freeze. 

The following day Daddy and I trudged our way along the road to the first field. The ponies were standing around icicles hanging off their beards, they had been fed hay. It was the same in the other fields as we walked past. The drift down one stretch of road on the slide of the valley, was up over the overgrown thorn hedge making the drift nearly twenty feet high. Under it was a tunnel eerily lit. Footprints showed people had walked through it. 
We got to the stables where Jan and June the two girls who worked there, were clearing more snow. There were only two horses stables, Faro and Sunray. The biggest problem was water. The pipes were frozen solid so they were melting snow in buckets in the tackroom. Water to the Down fields had to be carted in milk churns. These had to stay in the tackroom or they soon froze solid. 

I stayed for the day, Daddy helped a bit and then went home. When I got back he was finishing making two sledges, bigger than normal and with guard rails on the sides so that the churns wouldn't fall off. 

Some other friends were coming to help amd together we dragged the sledges to the stables. They were a great help, we rigged harnesses so we could drag them from out bodies rather than our hands. Several trips were made dragging the churns to and from the fields. The ponies drank more than normal and when we tipped the churns they were desperate for the precious water. 
An elderly couple in the last house suggested that we ran a hose from their kitchen to fill the churns which meant a much shorter trip and even no trip running it across the road to a field. 

Farmers back then didn't have the front loading tractors so clearing the road was left more or less to the council. It took weeks for them to cleat the top road. They cleared to the top of the village but the open road was left. 

School had started but Mummy never made me go. I trudged to the stables each day to do what I could. It was the only time I was allowed to miss school unless I had been sick. Didn't really matter as half the pupils would be able to get there nor half the teachers. 

Eventually the road was cleared, there were abandoned cars under the drifts. A track was cleared for vehicles to get along not that many cars could over the ice that formed. At least it made it easier to drag the sledges. 

A few years later when I had to go see the career officer for advice on a career, he was doing his best to put me off from working with horses. 
He said, "You don't realise that it is not all galloping around with the wind blowing through your hair. You do not understand what hard work it is." 
Mummy just snorted and said, "If you think she doesn't know what hard work it is then you are mistaken. She knows what it is like to make several journeys dragging bales of hay and churns of water to the horses in the snow for weeks on end. THAT was hard work and she never flinched from doing it." 

Finally we were able to ride. I can't remember how long it was before we could do so. There were still remnants of drifts around. The ponies were all fat and unfit to what they normally were but I believe they to were happy to be back in work.


----------



## Foxhunter

*I was always an avid reader. I think part of my dislike of school stems from being made to read from the Janet and John books, they were so babyish! This is John. This is Janet. This is their dog Spot. I recall it being my turn to read aloud to the class and I did so without the book and the teacher smacked me for doing so. The smack didn't bother me but the unfairness did. 
At th stables there were horse books and I would ask to borrow one. I would read it cover to cover even though they were reference ones. I had devoured an old medical book reading about things I hoped I would never see yet curious to want to see them. 

One Sunday bring some ponies in, I was behind an older girl who was leading Brandy, a bay pony. We were trotting and Brandy seemed to be moving funnily behind. His legs were far apart as he moved. I said about it and remarked that it looked like he had tetanus. This was laughed at. The ponies were given a small feed and turned out in the home fields. 

The following Saturday we were told that Brandy had died because he had tetanus. I think this was the first time that I realised that I had an intuitional feeling on something being terribly wrong and not run of the mill. 

This intuition was also with me with people. I could meet a perfectly normal person and just have the feeling that I should keep them at arms length. The vet the stables used wasmone of them. I really didn't like the man. To me he seemed frightened of the horses and was never forthcoming to some bratty little girl asked questions about an injury he was treating. 

Fortunately the vet was rarely called. Injuries were minimal, the odd kick or occasional lameness was about all and most of those were treated by taking the animal to the beach and standing it in the water for hours at a time. 

The farrier was Mr Toms, if he was old when I started he was ancient by the time he retired and his son took over. Ever the patient man he was always willing to explain about the hoof and why he shod a certain animal a certain way. 
Often we would have laminitic ponies in amd it was always the farrier that treated them never the vet. Often he would, in the severest of cases, bleed them from the heel and toe. Always there was instant relief. Those ponies, as soon as they were sound were worked. They lovedmout on the Downs where the grass was short and they had to move about to get to it. I cannot remember any pony resident ever getting laminitis or any insulin resistant diseases. Many were still steadily working when in their late twenties or even thirties. 

One day a pony came in that was crippled with laminitis. It belonged to some people who had a second home on the Island. Mr Toms came out especially to treat it. It was tied in the place he normally shod the ponies and he was looking at its feet when the owner arrived. She was smartly dressed, loud and a snob. 
"My good man," she shouted to Mr Toms, "This is a valuable pony and it is suffering from lemon slices. I do hope you realise the fact." 
Mr Toms stood up and removed his flat cap, leant one arm, holding his cap, against the pony scratching his sparsely covered head with a finger, and said, "Lemon slices? I think I have a cure for that madam." 
"A cure? You have a cure, that is not what my vet said. What on earth is it?" 
"Madam, nothing better for lemon slices than gin." 
"Gin, that will,cure it?"
"Yes, madam, it goes well with lemon slices." 

The woman left in her car returning shortly with two bottles of gone which Mr Toms relieved her of with thanks. He winked at us children as she left, we were watching and listening. He took all the time in the world to carefully trim the pony's feet allowing him to rest when he needed. 
The pony came sound and remained at the stables for the summer. I am sure the old man enjoyed his gin! 

There were only two animals that could be difficult to catch, Myfanwy, a Welsh cob mare and Vicky, Miss Fleming's favourite. Both just needed a knack, Vicky you held your hand behind your back and asked her to say please. Thinking you had a treat she would place her head across your shoulder so you could put your arms around her neck thus catching her. Myfanwy was another matter, you had to look at her feet and continually talk or sing to her and she would then allow you to get close. The moment you had a hand touching her she gave up.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Tommy, one of the school ponies was a New Forest pony. He had one thought in mind and that was to eat. He and Simon were two that were best ridden to and from the fields as they would suddenly stop dead and you would drop them and spend ages trying to catch them again. 

One Sunday I was riding Tommy in and going across the field he would shove his head down turn, always down the hill, and trot with his head between his legs snatching at grass and then stop dead. Having no withers as such, people wouldmslide off his back amd over his head. The art was to hang onto the rope or you would be forever chasing him trying to catch him. 

Seventeen times I slid off him, each time I took him back to the gate to rode the whole stretch without him eating. I did it in the end I thought I was so clever but, looking back, he was probably just full. 

I was competing at shows. I didn't stand a lot of chance of winning anything in the jumping as I was usually mounted on a remedial. Shows were expensive, the entry fees, the hire of a shared pony and transport to and from each event. 
I soon found out that the gymkhana games were anway for me to pay my way. It cost £1 to enter nine games (you got one free) and you could win £3 of you won. 

If my Father had any vice it was gambling. He would bet on the races daily and was always playing cards. However, he didn't drink or smoke and his bets were for a few pence. If he had a good win we were all treated. Daddy hated playing childish card games and would cheat tomgetmit over with quickly. He always cheated to win. I learned this early on and there were two choices. Don't play cards with him or become a better cheat. I chose the latter. 

In the gymkhana games there were always a lot of entries so sometimes there were two or three heats to go through before the finals. As ponies were shared it made life difficult as often the pony needed to be in two places at once. Then I started riding Taffy a 14 hand pony that was a terrible biter. He didn't nip he would take a good chunk and shake you lile a dog. He might not do it for months and then get several people in a day. Only the experienced were allowed to handle him. I took him one day and he went to bite me. He caught my arm but fortunately got the large handkerchief up the sleeve. He ripped a hole in the sweater - one that Mum had knitted and I was told not to wear it to the stables. I was so angry at him for getting me into trouble that I grabbed his ear in my teeth and but hard. He spun around in a circle with me hanging onto hos nose and mane and teeth. I drew blood. He never tried to bite me again. 
An older girl, Vanja always rode him and used him in then older games section so henwas always free for the juniors. He was a great games pony. Needed no guidance, he would watch thenstarters flag and as soon as it went down he was off. 
Games like the Potato Race you had to gallop the arena length, jump off, pick up a potato, remount back to the start line, drop it in a bucket and do this three times. 
I had no problem with this at all, I could dismount and mount at the gallop but itnwasneven faster if you hung off the saddle and picked up the spud without dismounting, so I did. No one could touch me for the speed. Nothing in the rules to stop it. 
The Thread the Needle you rode to the end, picked up a needle and thread and had to thread the needle. Much easier if you had a spare needle already threaded in your jacket and swapped. 

They brought in an obstacle race. Ponies were held at one end of the arena unsaddled. All hats were put in one sack, jackets in another and boots in a third. You had to gather your items of clothing, (tough if there were thistles in the field,) saddle thenpony, mount and gallop,tomthe start line. There were no heats for this so it was a free for all. 
What I did notice was one boy who had a brown hat was given a big advantage in finding it amongst all the black ones. So, I had Mummy sew some bright red elbow patches on an old jacket, a hat that the hound pups had chewed the velvet from was painted red as were the soles of an old pair of Miss Fleming's elastic sided jodhpur boots (most boots back then had straps) 
Vanja and I also used a single buckled girth. 
I have never been able to run but first to the sack had to empty them. It was easy to spot my items and even though I emptied Two sacks, being the first there, I was well finished before most had saddled their ponies. It was the same for Vanja. 
I would go home with ten or twelve pounds sometimes more. 
Thenothernrace I loved with Taffy was Musical Sacks. A circle of hessian sacks in the centre of the arena. Riders cantering around the outside of the arena and when the music stopped you had to jump off and run leading your pony to a sack. As I said, I couldn't run but with Antakya that didn't matter as he would tow me to the circle of sacks and if another person was running for the same sack Taffy would lay his ears flat back and threaten the pony which would pull back away from him. Gave me a great advantage. 

I loved those games, they were great for teaching balance and hand eye coordination. Stood me in great stead for being able to grasp a drink from a tray at a Meet whilst riding some fractious TB (without spilling a drop!)


----------



## knightrider

Sure am enjoying these stories. The one about your mom trying to mount the horse in pants that were too big for her and the gymkhana stories remind me of some of my gymkhana adventures.

One of the most hilarious gymkhana races our 4-H used to sponsor was the pants race. I would go to a thrift store and buy the most enormous pair of pants I could find. Then the kids had to gallop their ponies to a barrel with the pants draped over it, dismount, put the pants on, re-mount, and gallop back to the finish line. Of course, when the kids tried to re-mount, the huge pants would fall down. We all would get to laughing so hard watching the kids hop around trying to hold up the pants, hold on to a fractious wound-up pony, and get that foot in the stirrup.


----------



## Foxhunter

I can just picture that!


----------



## Foxhunter

*Mr Trumble and Miss Fleming were chalk and cheese. They were always arguing over trivial matters. Miss Fleming had a chalet in the corner of the field below the stables. This was her sanctuary. She would go there for her breakfast and for any break she had a chance to take. The place was a mess! There was a bed in there where she would rest up, a chest of drawers and a small table. She had her own kettle and teapot. 

Mr Trumble lived in the village below the stables, his wife was a lovely woman though totally unhorsey. I cannot ever remember her coming to any horse event or up to the stables. 

The thing that they both argued about most was driving. Miss Fleming had an old A40 Austin van. It had seats in the back. 









The very back was usually filled with bailer twine that she would plait into halters and ropes - woe betide anyone who didn't cut the strings at the knots! 

Mr Trumble had a car and drove the Bedford Van a larger vehicle that was mainly used to pick up the girls from the boarding school and tomcart hay and water tomthe Down fields.











Neither would I consider to be good drivers! The seat in the A40 had long collapsed and Miss Fleming would look ahead through the steering wheel. 
Mr Trumble was nearly blind though he would never admit it. 

One day driving to a show, the van loaded with the horses tack, we were behind a lorry. It stopped and so did we. Stationary for quite a while he started to honk the hooter. We children were in hysterics as he hadn't seen that two men were carting sides of meat from the lorry into a butchers shop. 

Miss Fleming, in her way home, got a speeding ticket much to her shame, she was doing 34 in a 30 limit. He wouldn't let her live it down until he got a speeding ticket a couple of months later. 

In all the years I knew Miss Fleming I never heard her say a bad word about any pony or person. The nearest she got to it was when talking about her step mother and she said, "She wasn't a very nice person." 
I am sure that if a pony did a double backward somersault landing on you and en proceed to eat you she would say, "Well, he is a pretty colour." 

Miss Fleming usually only worked the mornings but in the summer she would return to use the old Alum Sythe to mow the weeds in the home fields. This ancient piece of machinery was her pride and joy. All winter it was stood under the hedge carefully wrapped in tarpaulins and she would get it out late spring? SN would fill the tank with petrol, check the oil. Grease the blades and try to start it by pulling the starter string until she was exhausted. This would happen two or three days in a row before she would call a mechanic from the garage. 

One afternoon she was trying to start it when three lads, family friends arrived to pick me up. They were all bikers and had powerful bikes. One, Dave, was a mechanic. He tried to start it to no avail and offered to take a look at it. 

Miss Fleming was in a dilemma as to whether to save money and trust a stranger or, to decline and pay out. The former won. 

Before she could say anything much the three were attacking the scythe. It was soon in pieces. Each part was examined and then two of them got onto their bikes and drove off.
Poor woaman was near to tears amd went home. The lads returned having gone to a scrap yard and returned with a variety of bits and pieces. 

They didn't finish the task that afternoon but were there first thing to finish the job. 

Miss Fleming was busy with roses until lunch and as soon as she finished she went over to see what they had done. 
That scythe was purring, it wasn't shaking and roaring as normal nor was it belching out black exhaust fumes. 

She was thrilled when they showed her that they had fitted a battery and a start button. The string was still there but obsolete. She couldn't wait to give it a try and rushed to her hut to change. 

She returned in her grass cutting attire, shorts that came to her knees and Wellington boots that were just below her knees and her short sleeved polo shirt. 

We all went to watch including Mr Trumble. This was a significant event for Miss Fleming not to go home for lunch. 

She wheeled it to the top of the triangle field and pressed the starter button, it purred into life. She put it into gear and grasped the throttle. The machine roared and took off down the hill with Miss Fleming hanging onto the handles for grim death. 
She went down that field each stride a bound worthy of any Olympic long jumper, her shorts flapping wildly as she went! The dock leaves in its path cut and scattered. Luckily the field levelled at the bottom and she released the throttle turned and came back up the hill, being pulled by the scythe, the grin on her face like the Cheshire Cat. 

I am sure that she had heard us all shrieking with laughter as she went but she really didn't care.

The scythe was like this but I couldn't copy the picture

http://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/oxford-allen-scythe-Rare-4-stroke-model-/112304395953


----------



## gottatrot

Your stories are priceless! 
I also hit another child in the head with a rock, not knowing she would fall down and bleed. In my memory it was a very big rock, but she was not badly injured. It made me feel guilty for quite some time.


----------



## Foxhunter

*As I mentioned earlier, Daddy was a gambler. One Saturday morning he told me I could pick a horse running in the Grand National and he would back it for me. 
I remember kneeling on a stool sprawling across the kitchen table as I looked at the list of runners. Mummy was cooking and she placed a box of Oxo stock cubes on the table and that decided me, there was a horse running called Oxo. He won at odds of 25:1 I was thrilled when Dad gave me five shillings winnings. 

I had told my friend Ruth, that I had backed Oxo. On Monday at school Ruth told me she had backed Oxo too and had got twentysix shillings winnings. I asked Daddy about it and his reply was, the her father went to a different bookies. I just accepted the fact. 

The only day the stables closed other than the Sunday day off, was for the Point to Point. This was held on the mainland in Dorset. I was thrilled when I was told I could go with them to the meeting. 
We piled into the Bedford van with Mr Trumble driving. Miss Fleming didn't join the party. The journey there took a lot longer as I was terribly travel sick and we had to keep stopping. 

Once at the course we were all handed a satchel and a load of race cards to sell to the people as they arrived in the car park. 

The cards were two shillings and easy to sell. There was an older man wearing a brown cotton coat who kept coming to me and butpying ten cards at a time. After about the fifth time I asked him what he was doing with them. He told me he was a tipster and marked the card with horses that should win. He showed me what he didnwhichnwas to put a X by a horse's name in each race. He was selling them for a six pence profit. Seemed like a winner to me so I put a X by a horse's name and offered it to the punters. In each party they would only buy one marked card so the fact that each card was marked differently was unlikely to be discovered. I carefully pocketed my sixpence profit in my pocket. 

Daddy had given me £1 and told me to get an adult to back the favourite in each race. I went down to the paddock to watch thenhorse parade and asked Brigadeer Green if he would back a horse for my father. He asked me which one and I pointed out a horse with nice colours. He looked at his card and said it had no chance but I insisted it was the one I wanted to back. 
I was asked if I wanted to back it each way or to win. 
I didn't give it much thought before declaring "To win!" After all I had never seen a race on TV where horses ran in different directions. 

That horse won. I picked a runner in the next race and that too won. I didn't see either of these races as we were still selling the race cards but, afternthe second race, we were free to do what we liked. I continued to pick a horse in each race purely on likening their colour, longest tail or good looking jockey. They all won. 

Mrs Green had been holding the winnings and when it was time to leave she was insistent on placing the money deep into my jodhpur pocket and pinning it with a safety pin so it couldn't fall out. There was £34 in there plus some shillings a small fortune. 

When I arrived home I was exhausted. I had left the house before 6 a.m. and it was gone 8 p.m. Dad was out. Mum was waiting for me and listened to my day. I turned out all the sixpences I had 'earned' And she struggled to release the safety pin to get the money from my pocket.
When she saw how muchnthere was there she was shocked. 
I told her to keep £20 and to give Daddy the rest. She told me that it was dishonest and I told her what he had done with Oxo in the Grand National amd how he had diddled me ending with, "What's sauce for the good is sauce for the gander."
I had learned about odds, doubles and trebles, to win or each way betting. 
She laughed and left several notes and coins on the table and placed £20 in her pot in the cupboard. 

Dad was thrilled with his winnings and gave me the coins, he gave Sally some money and Mummy too. 

It was some weeks later whenDad had gone to the Bookies for his daily fix. In walked Brigadeer Green who asked if I had picked the horses for him. He told Dad I had eight winners in eight races and had won over £34. 
Of course Dad was shocked. At supper that night he asked me about it and I told him what I had done. Mummy confirmed that I had given her the twenty. He realised I was chip off the old block and he couldn't complain as he had done it to me.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Margaret was given the job of training the Pony Club Horse Trials team. The riders and ponies stayed at the stables for a week of intensive training. 
There were only three loose boxes but part of the pony shed could be sectioned off with slip rails. 

Then the team was three members, 16 or under, and and associate member. This year the team was Judith, with her mare Suzette, the associate, Suzanne riding her grey pony, Ghost, Jan, who worked at the stables was riding a new horse of Suzanne's, Sweet Afton and the forth member Anthony on hos black pony, Costa. 
All in all the team was a diversion from the norm. The stables were busy with tourists, the team took over the arena and Margaret worked them hard. 
Anthony was a good looking lad and all the older girls were swooning if he spoke nicely to them. Suzanne was rather spoilt and would have loved his attention but he had no time for her. Judith was a perfectionist and would even polishnthe D rings on her saddle and moan that the others were not doing it correctly. Jan was not only training but also having to work around the sessions. 

Anthony would pay us to clean his tack and groom Costa whilst he went with one of the girls into the hay shed for a kiss and cuddle. Suzanne would also try and get out of work and pay us but there were never any takers. 

The day before the Interbranch completion Suzanne bathed Ghost whomwasmtotally white. She tied him tomthenarena rails to dry off and Anthony let him loose whereby he went into the arena and rolled both sides in the black clinker. 

Anthony called out the Ghost was loose but Suzanne never believed him but when someone said that he was rolling in thenschool she went to see. She was so angry and had to bath him all over again. 
The team was placed and Anthony qualified for the finals as Best Boy. Margaret was pleased with how it had gone but was ashamed at their turn out. Anthony had to get a new hat before he went to the finals and sweaters were bought for the team to look like a team! 

Anthony's hat, an old style hunting cap made from cork, was so ancient and soft that we would turn it inside out and play soccer with it! The modern crash caps hadn't yet become the norm nor would they for many a Year.


----------



## Foxhunter

*All sorts of remedials kept coming. A pretty little 13.2 bay mare, Honey Bee, a confirmed rearer. She had been beautifully schooled and moved like a dream. I rode her first in the arena and noticed that the moment you took a contact was when she went up. She had been known to flip right over but didn't with me. As an experiment I rode her in a halter and she was fine. Wolf teeth had been removed but on closer examination one had been broken off and was just under the gum. Once that was out, she was fine. 

Quite a few horses and ponies would arrive from a farmer, a keen hinting man and a good horseman. Later I learned he would buy the odd horse or pony at a cattle sale and usually have his sons rode them but if there were problems - which there usually were, they were sent to Margaret. One of these was a mare, Star. 
Margaret and I went out with Star and Honey, we were going up the track to the top of the Downs when Star suddenly threw a wobbly. She leapt up the steep bank and crashed through some saplings. She hit the wire fence the other side of the bank and came back onto the track facing home. That was it, she was gone in a true bolt. I waited expecting Margaret to appear but she didn't. I rode back down the track and could see hat there was a big area of thick hedge flattened. There was a stirrup on the ground. 
I rode Honey to the gate and collected the stirrup. Margaret was at the stables finding another saddle for Star, the one she had been wearing was smashed when she fell through the hedge. 

Margaret rode her into the arena and the mare was going fine and then all of a sudden she just did another great sideways leap, fell down the bank on the side of the arena, across a track and continued down another steep bank in the woods below. Margaret was still on top when the exited the woods. Star then went fine. After a couple of months of this with her still leaping sideways and truly bolting rather Han just booking off. She had gone through wire fences, it was decided that she would be euthanised. 

Cannot win them all.


----------



## Foxhunter

*We children travelling on the bus arrived at the fields about twn minutes before those from the opposite direction arrived. Usually this meant we walked to the top of the fields in the summer to bring the ponies down to the gate or wallowed through boot clinging mud to halter them in the winter. 
When it was time to go home in the winter they would rush to the bus stop as that arrived ten minutes before ours so we were left to put out the hay in the winter. 

One Saturday there were only five ponies to come in from the nearest Downs to the stables. There was only me so I decided tomwait for the other bus. It didn't go down very well but we trudged together to collect the five all grazing at the top. 

Walking up thenothers all dared me to rode Pam's pony, Nimbus, to the bottom without a halter. I thought about this as Nimbus had a good buck to him and was as nimble as a cat. They upped the monetary reward so I agreed with the one proviso - that they would not chase him or whack him. They agreed and when we reached them thenothers put the halters on the four and tied the lead rope around their necks. I vaulted onto Nimbus. 

True to their word they didn't chase or whack Nimbus, they just chased the others. 

The path down from the top was angled across the hill. It went under a big old oak tree, then swung hard left down a steep track to the gate. 

Nimbus watched the others take off down the hill, he did a rear leaping forward as he landed. The four had taken the zig zag track, Nimbus went straight down, under some thorn bushes, weaving between the ant hills and reached the gate as the others come down the normal slope. 
We were about three strides away from the gate when I realised he wasn't going to skid to a halt. Ears pricked he just jumped and continued atmamfast canter along the road. 
I hadn't gone far when I realised that the other four had followed and were cantering as a herd. Luckily there was no traffic when we crossed over the road into the track to the stables. Once through the gate and on the grass it became a real race and once in the yard they charged through the door into the pony shed causing chaos as they tried to share the ponies feeds that had just been given. 

The other four had to walk in and refused to pay me as I hadn't stopped at the gate. To rub salt into an open wound they left my bag containing my lunch at the gate so I had to walk out and back to get it.


----------



## Foxhunter

This is top of one of the Downs the ponies grazed. The point at the end of the grass field where there are trees is where the stables were.










Another taken from the top of another field, you can see it was fairly steep.











This is a different angle from the one above, the open field to the right, is where the track went across to the stables


----------



## Foxhunter

It has all changed so much over the years. The Downland was fairly neglected for several years and going up the side of the first picture is now all thick woodland.


----------



## Foxhunter

*I have always been a confident person, if I saw someone doing something then I never saw a reason why I couldn't do it also, like standing on a horse's back. 
I had been to the cinema with my father and seen a cowboy film. I think it was John Wayne and Kirk Douglas. Cannot remember a thing about the film bar a scene where John Wayne cantered through the town and Douglas jumped from a second floor balcony landing on the horse.

We were never allowed to ride unaccompanied, except to the fields but one girl who was now working there, would take the afternoon ride out and meet with her boyfriend on top of the Downs which gave those on the rode a chance to go off and jump horse bushes. 

Pam was riding Simon and I was on Cleo when we decided to try this new venture. Now, I would consider myself a logical thinker even back then, however logic never entered the situation. 
I clambered to the top of a brick building outside the RAF compound, about 10 feet in height. Pam cam along at a fast canter and I jumped. We spent the rest of the ride catching Simon. The following week we tried again and again, poor horses! Eventually I managed to land, very inelegantly and painfully on Cleo's back. That was good enough. 

We should have started with a lower building of which there were two to choose from, and started at a walk but no, that seemed to tame. 

Such was he suffering and great temperament of those horses that they never kicked out when I missed.

I found this picture of where I jumped from.


----------



## Reiningcatsanddogs

Foxhunter, being an American, could you clarify for me what a "Downs" is? Is it a low area at the bottom of a hill or a low area between two hills or a canyon or....?

I see we name a lot of racing stadiums _____ Downs and wondering why?


----------



## Foxhunter

Downland is a hilly area in the U.K. 
Don't know why it is called Down when you have to get up them first.


----------



## Foxhunter

Downland is a hilly area in the U.K. 
Don't know why it is called Down when you have to get up them first.










A picture of St Boniface Down from the west. This is above the town. The south side is covered in Holme Oak trees,


----------



## Foxhunter

The Downs are all flint and chalk so drain very well. The area to the right of the hill was planted with Holme oaks just after WW1 by some man who thought the hill needed stabilising. 
The problem is that these trees are non native and so there is nothing that lives in them. The leaves of these trees never seem to rot down and a great joy to us was to go to the top, gather a pile of leaves, sit on them and slide to the bottom. Sounds like great fun, which it was but you needed to be aware of very lord branches and when you were nearing 'the drop' about a three feet drop down onto the path going to the top, miss and it could be very jarring and painful for weeks. 

Last time I did this was about fifteen years ago - with my father who was well into his seventies. My excuse for reckless behaviour is that it is in my genes!


----------



## Reiningcatsanddogs

Maybe the guy who planted the trees lived in one of those houses abutting the cliff! Stabilization would be a good thing if you were living there!


----------



## Foxhunter

*To get back on course. 

A remedial came in, a heavy skewbals gipsey cob mare, Bess. She was very strong and inclined to tank off. I found riding her from her noseband easier than with a bit. 

I really do not remember what I was doing, it couldn't have been anything wold as we were on a very quiet lead rein ride. What I do remember is this big brown and white backside descending towards me as I sat with my back against a tree and thinking. "This is going to hurt!" Then people all around me. 
I was a mess. I had been knocked out, my nose was bleeding badly, my front top teeth were wobbly and my top lip split from my nose down almost like a hair lip. 
I rode back to the stables with the ride amd a dentist whose wife had been on a different ride, splinted my teeth with matchsticks and aluminium foil from milk bottle tops. 

I was sore but my head felt fine so I didn't go to the Cottage Hospital just down the road but stayed as normal. 

It was the summer holidays and my sister and cousin were at the stables too. We caught the bus home and an inspector got on. I had a half fare weekly ticket and he informed me that this was not allowed other than to get to an fro from school. I had to go a stop further on to the bus station to fill in forms. 

Sally and Gill went on home. 

I will get a good bruise from a minor knock I didn't know I had done but a bad thump just causes me to swell so, as I had fallen in the morning, by the time I got home my eyes were slits, my face was like a balloon yet despite this I could still see my top lip which was turned inside out, touching my nose and the inside ulcerated. 

I got in about 30 minutes after the other two. Mummy was cooking chips (fries) she turned from the cooker with the chip basket held over a palate. Took one look at me, put the plate and basket on the table, she sat on her stool and covered her face with her hands, peeping through her often parted fingers, the tears were rolling down her cheeks as she tried to control her laughter. When she could finally speak she sai, "Well, you won't want vinegar on your chips.” 

She looked at me and told me to go up to the doctor. When I got there the surgery was finished but I rang the bell and his wife answered, she called out, "Darling, it's Linda, I think you ought to see her."
The reply was, "What is it this time, kick, bite or a fall?" 

I got a strong lecture from him on how my lip should have been stitched and my nose set straight. He straightened my nose, and used butterfly clips to do what he could with my lip. I did go to the dentist the next day and they gave me a gum shield to wear on my teeth for several weeks.

Bess never really improved a lot, she went back to her owner and I don't know what happened to her after that.


----------



## Foxhunter

Reiningcatsanddogs said:


> Maybe the guy who planted the trees lived in one of those houses abutting the cliff! Stabilization would be a good thing if you were living there!


He could have planted native trees! 

The whole area along the south coast from Luccombe to Blackgang is on a black clay called Blue Slipper. The village below the stables has had many house collapse in slides. Mr Trumble's house, after he had sold it, ended up in two halves, one about 8 feet lower than the other. From that village right through to Ventnor is a wooded area called the Landslip. 

I remember when I was around eleven seeing two hotels on the sea front with great cracks in them and the steep road leading up from the beach had a four feet wide crack across it. 

A school friend and I took our dogs for a walk and on reaching Steephill Cove there was a house still standing on a raft, the 'legs' standing clear of the collapsed ground under the raft. 
We were both still in school uniform and as it was Mothering Sunday when we saw some early primroses growing on tufts of grass we thought we would pick them for our mothers. It was OK getting to them but as we landed on each tuft of what looked like solid ground, we sank. I lost a shoe!

We went back to her house and tried to clean up not that it did much good. It was decided as I only had one shoe, that it was best if I had all the primroses to try and placate mother. 

It didn't.


----------



## Foxhunter

*All the time I was riding, up until I was in my mid teens, very few children owned their own horses. Those that did were mostly either farmers children or middle/upper classed - to me rich! When non farming children owned their own they were usually kept at livery in a riding school. 

For most of us being able to own our own ponies was nothing but a dream. 

Come the spring those of us that were competing were allowed a pony that was 'ours' for the competition season. Several of the ponies were very good and were usually in the ribbons. 

Early on I was allowed to jump Pixie in a class. I was told that if I got him around the show jumps I would be allowed to ride something better. I was determined to get him around. 

Pixie was a brilliant hunter, great cross country but hatednshow jumping. He could stop dead even when he had started to jump and run out at the last second. I don't think he had ever won anything show jumping! 

I rode him with every bit of determination I had. I kept my reins short, kicked like billy-o, growled at him and slapped him down the shoulder with my whip. Had I used the whip behind my leg he would have run out.

I was approaching the last fence, a double. He weaved his way towards it seeing if he could run out, at the last moment he started to stop and I whacked him down the shoulder. He cat jumped, so did i but it wasn't right. I was still in the saddle but saddle and I were well above Pixie. 
I landed with saddle but without Pixie. I landed hard and winded myself. 

The pain when you are really winded both hurts and is frightening as you just cannot breathe. I lay there trying to get a breath. The first alders rushed into the arena and next thing I was being stretchered out the ring. Pixie was being led out and they were carrying his saddle. 
As we needed the exit so I got my breath back. Quick as a flash I was off that stretcher and vaulted onto Pixie. I took him back to the fence and with even more determination got him over both parts. I had done it! I had got him around the course. 
There was plenty of applause as I rode him out, one man was near the exit and he was clapping with his hands over his head and shouting out, "Bravo, bravo!" In a very loud voice. 
I found it embarrassing and told him, as I rode past, "Oh do be quiet!" 
Later I was told that he was a famous conductor, Sir Malcom Sergeant.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The village below the stables was on the move, the ground was forever slipping so, practically impossible to obtain insurance on property so, majority of the properties were owned by retired people. 

Pretty houses with large gardens. At the bottom of the road was a house set back from the road. Between the house and the road was an orchard, planted in a dip. There grew the most wonderful prolific fruit trees apples, pears, plums and cherry. 
The property was owned by an elderly mad, he was crippled with arthritis and a thoroughly miserable man. He was one of those people that was only happy of he was moaning about something and evidently he had always been this way.

Rather that allowing someone to pick the fruits he would rather it fell to the floor and rotted. He wouldn't allow neighbours or even the gardener who came in once a week, to take any. 

That never stopped us children. We would go down there, sneak down the bank from the road and help ourselves. We were seen by several of the other residents and the gardener, but they never let on. 
Stealing fruit in the UK is known as scrumping. 

We had already been down and scrimped all the plums, apples ripened pff later. It was in early September when we went down to gather some apples. I was wearing a sweater Mum had knitted for me to wear at the stables. It was royal blue and from cheap acrylic yarn. It was great bar it stretched. In our eagerness to get down there no one took a bag and pockets were soon filled. I don't know who cam up with the idea to use my sweater. The sleeve was pulled and knotted, a piece of twine was tied around my waist and I was filled with a variety of apples. I was twice my weight and looked like I had been inflated. 

We had just about finished when Mr Grump came out yelling and shouting at us.
We scarpered up the bank, well the others did, I found it hard but, still kept out of range of his stick. 

When I had got to the top of the steep bank he was coming out of his drive. Now, I have never been able to run and to try with all the fruit made it even harder. I pulled the string and the fruit fell to the ground. I don't know if I fell on the fruit or tripped on a flint bit I went down and heard a loud crack. 

Lucky for me Mr Grump had given up and didn't see me. I lay there not moving, nothing hurt but I was sure I had broken my leg. The others finally came to see what had happened to me and when I told them I though I had broken my leg they laughed and said the noise I had heard was an apple cracking whereby they proceeded to jump on the fruits to try and make the noise I had heard. 
It was only when they stood me up did the pain hit. 

I tried hopping with help up the road then two of them decided to chair me by linking hands so I could sit on them and carry me. It was all downhill to the Cottage Hospital but there were frequent stops. At the hospital I was dumped and left to have my leg X-rayed. It was plastered and I was given crutches. I told the staff that I would catch the bus home but instead made my way back to the stables. 

(My parents didn't drive and weren't on the phone so I couldn't contact them) 

When I got home Mummy had her usual reaction of laughing telling me, "Worse to come before you die!" and, that it served me right. The sweater never regained much shape. One sliver was about a foot longer than the other and the neck hung down to my lower ribs. Mummy unpicked it and made another which I wore for years.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Margaret had done all the riding for the actress Margaret Munro in the field 'The Horsemasters' she bought the horse that was meant to be the star of the film, a big grey called Moonshadow. He never had more than a walk on part in the film as he was rather difficult. 

Winter was coming and Margaret started to clip him. She had done most of him but he wasn't going to let her near his head. 

I loved that horse and would spend hours in his stable just petting him. He was the very first horse I ever put blankets on and back then the top rugs were jute and a clipped horse would have several human bed blankets on underneath. I had to stand on a chair to reach and he never moved a muscle, bless him. 

Margaret took a break, her temper was close to the surface and me, being the cocky kid I was, picked up the clippers and started clipping his head. He kept his head down only raising it when Margaret appeared. She went and with her permission I finished him off. I was kneeling on the floor to do under his jaw as his head was so low. 
As a reward I was allowed to sit on him the proviso was that I had to get on him on my own. I couldn't reach the stirrup from the mounting block so dragged him to the arena, climbed to the top rail and mounted him from that. This was an ex racer that would shoot off the moment you tried to mount him. 

I was allowed to walk him up the edge of the drive to the gate and back. Then Margaret said I could trot him up. Being use to the tough ponies I gave him a kick and he went into a canter but stopped when I hauled on the reins, I was told to just squeeze and he trotted kindly to the hedge. His strode was so long that I had difficulty getting the timeline right, I was then allowed to canter him and it was like sitting on water. I was like a pea on a drum on hos back but he did look after me well. 

Margaret sold him the following year which really upset me. 

It makes me sound as if I was brilliant at everything - I sure as heck wasn't! I had a jumping lesson and a remedial we had in. The cross country jumping lane at the bottom of the field, consisted of eight jumps, all on a stride. I went up that lane nine times before I didn't fall off! 

The pony wasn't easy, he was inclined to over jump or stop dead. When he had over jumped we met the next fence wrong and because I would let him refuse he would cat jump and I would come off.


----------



## Foxhunter

*The Pony Club is a great organisation for teaching children. Entirely voluntary, they hold both mounted and unmounted rallies. There are test you can take and Interbranch competitions. 

When I was young the only Interbranch was the horse trials, now there is dressage, show jumping and Prince Phillip Cup (gymkhana games) as well as other competitions for children who are not the best of riders. 

Things have changed, the tests on both stable management and riding, were D, C, B, A. Now they all have plus and there is an H test after the B+ 
in the summer holidays there was always a Pony Club Camp, a week under canvas with a pony. Funds never stretched that far for me to attend. Hiring a pony for a week was way over the top for my parents. 

I played it artful. The place where camp was held was across the road from the mental hospital and Aunty Alice and Uncle Jim (not rally my aunt or uncle but I called them that!) lived in the grounds. The owner of the farm was the farmer who kept buying the remedials. We had had a roan pony, Beatrice, and she had gone back. I went to stay with Alice and Jim and wandered over to the farm to see Beatrice. 
My plan worked and Mr Taylor arranged for me to ride Beatrice each day and join in the other ventures.

It was a great time except for the food. Mrs Carr, the secretary insisted on cooking everything over an open fire. Ever tried tapioca cooked on a smokey bonfire? I have as did all the other children. 
I don't like tapioca at the best of times, dished up with lumps of charcoal made it even more unpalatable. We all sat around bench tables ever wobbly on the ground as were the benches was sat on. I was the youngest so was shoved under the table to bury the pudding. Spoons full of it were handed down to me. My spoon bent trying to dig a hole in the hard ground so in the end I just hid it under handfuls of grass. 

Thentables cleard and put away the District Commisioner and his wife arrived along with their eclectic mix of dogs, Beagles, Wolfhounds, and other mixed breed rescues. The pair of Beagles and a wolfhound found our hidden caches and were soon bolting it down. Mrs Carr saw this and was furious. She asked who had tried to bury it and all that had been at the table pointed to me. It wasn't so much that they were dropping me in deep,water because they knew I wouldn't be sent home as I was riding Mr Taylor's pony. 
Half way through a strong lecture about wasting food and starving children in India and Africa I saw two of the dogs throwing up. I pointed out to her that surely it was better to have two sick dogs than eight sick children. She had no answer to that!

It was all very primitively amd the toilets were an open trench you stood across hidden from the camp by hessian sacking. Luckily as I was sleeping across the road I never had to use them and I could also get better food there. 

One evening it was Newport Carnival (parade) and all at the camp were taken to it leaving Mr Trumble and Mr Upton to keep an eye on things. They decided all was fine and went off to the pub being careful to get back before Mrs Carr. 
A pony had gone under the ropes into the food tent and drunk a not yet set jelly and eaten the top off a fruit cake someone had sent along. 
The pair went to Mrs Taylor who made up another bowl of jetty and they iced the cake. 
Mrs Carr was certain she had made a red jelly and this one was yellow but she never knew the truth. 

That one week at camp was enough for me. I enjoyed all the fun and riding but didn't like the primitive conditions to want to stay there properly and pay for it.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Margaret was using me more and more for backing youngsters she had in for breaking, the remedials and anything else she could put me on!

I loved it but it meant that I wasn't allotted a horse to compete on. I was still doing the games on Taffy, but really wanted to make the Pony Club Horse Trials team. 
The stables was well represented with riders competing, often they would go to the mainland for other branches events and also shows. 

Margaret said that I could ride Faro, who was her horse although he had stayed when she was away. He was an Anglo Arab, a lovely looking horse that often won show classes. He was as smooth as heck to ride although he wasn't the easiest. He never did anything terribly wrong but could put in a dirty stop especially if there was water involved or spook for the fun of it. 

We had a team of four for the members section and a couple of associate members. Margaret organised it all and offered other Pony Club members if they wanted to join us but no one ever did. 

We did very well, the team often winning but always placed. Come the selection we had to go to the PC cross country course, do the dressage test and a short CC before a dressage judge from the mainland. 

We that had been eventing since the Easter holidays, had an advantage in that we had the experience under our belts. 
At the end of the session the judge had watched us all and selected the four members from our stables and one associate the only other was Suzanne on Sweet Afton, who had also been competing Horse Trials with us. Afton had been bought as a 'made' horse and was so honest and bold it would have been silly not to include her. 

There was a great deal of discussion about the judge's decision, several of the Pony Club Committee thought it wrong that all should be from the same stables and said that two team members, me and another Linda on Sancho, would be in the team and two sisters, Penny and Christine the other two.

Timber, ridden by Susan had been the strongest team member when we had been together but they said Timber was inexperienced. In two years he had done more events than than the sisters had combined. 

I offered to stand doennas Faro, well into his teens, hated hard going but they wouldn't have it. Margaret, as trainer, was totally ignored. 

So, off we went. The sisters, Penny and Christine hadn't wanted to have the training lessons. Margaret had taken them twice for pre training, that was all. 

When we arrived we walked the course which was on some of the roughest flint strewn ground I had ever seen. I knew Faro would hate it.

I was warming up for the dressage when I heard my name being called for the CC. It had to be a mistake as I hadn't yet done my dressage. Warnings were announced that if I wasn't at the start in two minutes I would be eliminated. Margaret ran across to see what was going on only to find there was another competitor riding a Pharo. 

The day was hot and Faro was a lot easier to ride when it was. It was a great test amd I was in second place in my section. 

The CC was terrible. I was going first for the team. I had to ride for my life, use my whip amd spurs to keep Faro going. He shuddered on each landing bar some fences through some woods where the going was good. 
I got him around clear but had hated every moment of it as much as Faro had. The other Linda, leader in her section also went clear. Penny and Christine, both had poor scores dressage and were eliminated CC. The team was out but Linda and I could still get to the finals as individuals. 

The show jumping course was in an area that was also very flinty. I walked the course and said that I wasn't going to do it. Margaret and I both knew that I would have to beat him to get him around. 
Oh boy, didnthat infuriatw the District Commisioner. He was somred in the face that I thought he was going to have a heart attack! He and Margaret were really having a ding dong battle over it. In the end I just said, "I thought the Pony Club was to promote good horsemanship. If you want me to jump having to beat my horse up to get him around then I will do so." That shut him up. 

Had I been made to show jump I would have either started before the bell or walked up to the first fence three times and been eliminated. 

I was bitterly disappointed, who wouldn't have been? It had been engrained into me that the horse always comes first. 

Over the years things never changed with the politics of the Pony Club. If your face fitted you were in, of it didn't then tough luck.


----------



## Foxhunter

*A big black horse came in for breaking, Ritzi, he was TB x Hanoverian. As was the norm, I was first on him. He was gangly, weak and not very well co-ordinated with a rider on him. 

We went for a ride on the beach, Margaret was riding a TB, Quiz and someone, I cannot remember who, riding another TB. Bother the other horses were entered in the Members Point to Point race and these two were going to have a gallop. 

Ritzi was already tired after what was probably a six mile ride mostly trotting and cantering. Margaret told me to just quietly trot along to catch up. 

Off they went, stirrups short, reins bridged at a fair clip. Ritzi watched them go and was nonchalant about them leaving him. I started to trot and he seemed to have more energy. As we trotted under the pier so he exploded! How I landed back in the saddle was more the grace of God than riding skills on my behalf. 

In what seemed like a dozen strides we had caut up to the other two, they were pulling up, when I thundered past. Ritzi ordained to stop once he was with them. 

About a month later Ritzi went back to his owner, Mr Taylor yet again. He was turned out on the Downs surrounding his farm. I saw that black horse a couple of times over the course of the next three years, not touched since the day he went back. 

The seaside resorts all hold carnivals (parades) in the summer and I was shocked to see, leading the floats was a man on a big black horse. It was Ritzi who had been sold to a local farmer as a hunter. The new owner, John, told me that he had gone out, caught him stuck some tack on and just rode him about and then bought him. Ritzi never put a foot wrong when tried. 

He made up for being so good when the band, immediately behind him started up. Needless to say people lining the streets saw John and Ritzi way before the rest of the carnival reached them! 

John had Ritzi for many years. They hunted mostly twice a week and Ritz never had a lame day in his life.


----------



## Foxhunter

*In thenwinternthe horses were always fed hay on the fields twice a day. Those that were in work had theirs when they came in. We were taught to put each section a good distance apart so there would be no kicking. 
As,winter rolled on so it was always muddynaround the gates and wading through with a bale on your back wasn't easy. 

I found that with one section of the Downs I could walk along the road, scramble up the bank, get the bale over the wire and spread it well away from the gate. There was a group of us that had done this, and we came back the way we had gone in - through the fence. We had decided to catch the bus home and we sat on the bank waiting for it. I don't know who it was and it might well have been me, scraped the mud from their boots and threw it at a passing car. Points were awarded for hitting the wheel, which was where we were aiming. 
My sister missed and it went in through the open passenger window. The driver screeched to a halt and we all ran to the gate, most went up over the hill but Sally and I hid behind the water tank. 

Of course the bus wernsailing past somwe had to walk home anyway. 

Another time we had turned thenponies out and the Shanklin lot rushed off to catch the bus leaving me to feed the hay. I didn't spread the sections very well. It was windy and wet. I missed the bus before I had finished. I did think about spreading the hay more but didn't bother. 
There was a cottage by the gate to the field and the elderly couple who lived in there invited me in tomwait the hour for the next bus. I took them up on their offer and whilst sat in their kitchen saw one horse kick out at Nugget, a big half Shire mare. When I left the house Nugget was standing near the gate. She had a broken leg. 

I called Mr Trumble and he arranged for the Hunt to come deal with her. Margaret drove me home before they arrived. To this day I blame myself for not doing the job correctly.


----------



## Foxhunter

*It wasn't just the ponies who had strong individual characters but also some of the clients were much the same. 

There was one family of four children who rode during the school holidays. They were upper crust but not as wealthy as the family had been at one time. Rumour had it that to keep wealth in the family cousins had married cousins resulting in rather odd children. 

The eldest three were OK, slow to learn but didnget there, it was the youngest that drove us all demented. He started off with nothing more than short pony rides, just being led around. He started to show more interest and Miss Fleming would take him out leading him from her horse. Things would be fine untli thenlad decidedmotherwise and would leap from his pony and grab her leg, hanging on like a monkey. He did this on several occasions. Then he got on top of the muck heap amd refused to come down, he had a pitchfork and anyone approaching trying to get to him he would stab hard at them. In the end I climbed onto the roof of the tackroom with a bucket of water and whilst others kept him distracted I threw the water over him. He sure jumped down pretty fast, 

All his father did was to say, "Oh, dear, now you are all wet." 

The best one was when he got into their Bentley took the hand brake off and it rolled through the fence, down the hill across the field through the jumping lane and hedge, across another field through another two wire fences ending up in a bog. The 

Luckily he wasn't hurt though the damage was annoying amd had to be fixed. Again the father just said, "Oh dear, you really shouldn't have done that."


----------



## Foxhunter

*The Pony Club began introducing simple dressage tests to encourage us all to do better with the easier movements. 

My sister was riding a pretty little black mare, Cheval. She had arrived with severe laminitis and the owners just left her with the stables as their daughter had lost interest. 
This honest mare moved like a dream and carried herself to look like she was on the bit. 

At the show, just pure dressage so it was surprising anyone turned up, there were many entries. My sister was last to go in her class. 

_For those that do not know each dressage test is divided into movements and 10 points awarded for each movement. There are two sections at the end, one formrider and the other for the horse again 10 points for each. It use to be on the most points for dressage now it is altered into percentage._

Judges were lenient in the scoring to encourage the riders. My sister did a lovely test, smooth, accurate, with great paces. She was way ahead of the other competitors. She was announced the winner amd when we looked at the score board she had scored 142 with the high score being 120! 

Seeing how much better she was than the others the judge gave her points over the 10 to make sure she was the winner. Sally still has that dressage sheet. 

A 14.2 pony arrived, a black mare Cheriton Gay Kitten, beautiful and bred to be a top class show pony. The people who owned her had asked if we had a suitable pony for their daughter, Pat. At the time we had an outbreak of ringworm so the stables was not letting anything out or new come in. These people, totally unhorsey, went out and bought Cheriton, unbroken, a weanling filly amd a 13.2 pony as ugly as sin and so narrow in front its legs seemed to come out the same hole. It was also much bigger behind so very on its forehand but it was quiet and broken so Pat could rise it.
As the stables wasn't taking anything in they had them at some place across the Island where Cheriton was to be broken. We then got a call to say there was a problem with Cheriton who would not allow anyone on her back amd, the filly was looking thin. 

Margaret and I went over to pick up all three ponies. The weanling was in a stable with no window or much light at all, up to her knees in dirty bedding and muck. She was in very poor condition. Cheriton and the other pony Mitzi, didn't look much better either. 
The place was a tip, old cars, corrugated sheets and rubbish all around. The two older ones loaded fine but getting the filly out was another matter. She had been stood in the stable for about three months and had never been led out at all. The danger was all the rubbish just waiting to cut a leg off. 

That poor filly was so frightened but with taking time she eventually loaded. Afterwards we found out that when she first arrived they had tried to lead her out and she had reared and gone over into a half dismantled car injuring herself amd was barely able to move.

These people went out and bought two Arab weanlings so Mouse, as she was now called, and the Arabs were turned out in a farmers field to grow. 

Cheriton lunged well and longreined too. Margaret worked her and had me get on her. She seemed fine and we walked and trotted on the lunge on the left rein and then changed reins. She walked a half circle and tensed up. I had a firm grip on the neck strap and warned Margaret she was tense. There was a sudden explosion. She went into a full bronc act. Margaret was hauling the line when it snapped. I was free! That mare bucked her best, she then took off with me, wemwent through the arena rails onto the drive where she started bucking again. We came back into the arena through different rails. Margaret was screaming at me to get off but couldn't tell me how. 
Back in the arena she took off in a bolt heading for yet more rails. I hauled her around and she went down. When she got up she was quite calm. There was something very wrong but no one knew what. I never did ride her without her really exploding or trying to bolt. 

We tried for about a month and it was always the same. Then the owners arrived having bought two more horses, both TBs, they had taken one in exchange for Cheriton who was going to be used as a brood mare. 
She did very well producing top show ponies and winning many pony brood mare classes at major shows. 

These people then sold one of the TBs and kept Mitzi and the other mare at their place. They gave Margaret the filly Mouse and sold the two Arabs.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Miss Fleming always carried a polo whip, it was long and had a big 'button' on the top so it didn't slip through her hand. She would use it by waving it at a pony that was being lazy or naughty and in all the years I never saw her use it at all. 

We had a woman who was mentally challenged, Joanna, who rode every week on a Saturday. Her parents were wealthy and had two carers looking after Joanna. I didn't like either of these two women, they seemed mean to me and talking to Joanna, I don't think they were very nice to her at all. 

They would refuse to drive along the track to the stables and drop Jo off at the end of the track, she would walk along quite happily and pick flowers as she did so. Always, when she arrived she was bubbly and happy and present someone with her flowers, always weeds, but she thought they were pretty. 

One day Jonanna was riding something that was a bit lazy and Miss Fleming gave her the pole whip to carry. At the end of the rode Joanna went home with the whip. Miss Fleming was devestated when we realised what had happened. Joanne appeared the following week with the whip which she had cut to about half its original length. 

Looking back I realise that in today's society Joanna would have had a much happier life, she would have been a member of society rather than cared for by two miserable women some distance from the rest of the family. 

I was around thirteen or fourteen when some friends of Mr Trumble brought their Granddaughter to the stables to watch the horses, she too was a Joanna. Then aged about six, she had suffered from polio and was left with no use of her legs. She could walk wearing calipers and sticks. She was with her grandparents for recovery after an operation to help her walk. Her parents were somewhere in Africa working. 

Jo would sit in the car eagerly watching the horses coming and going. I was turning Molly out in one of the home fields and stopped at the car so she could get a closer look. I asked if she wanted to pet her and much to her grandmothers horror, Joey wriggled off the back seat, stood to pet Molly. 
That child had a grin from ear to ear - she also had the greenest eyes I have ever seen. Next thing was I lifted her onto Molly and started leading her, bareback, up and down the drive. That child was in heaven. Grandma was nearly in hospital with heart failure! 

Joey started bareback with pony rides, she was so eager to learn the Miss Fleming agreed to teach her. It wasn't long before she was going out on an hours rode with others. Her balance was perfect, there was no reliance on the reins to steady herself and she had a rapport with all she rode. 

Joey was at a boarding school and would stay with her grandparents in the holidays. Her parents would come 'home' for the summer holidays and she would go to them for Christmas. 
Miss Fleming would get a letter from Joey before each holiday asking to be booked in for rides dates and times and ponies she wished to ride all neatly written out. 

All this was well before there was Riding for the Disabled. 

WhennJoey was older, around eight, she started to stay all day at the stables along with the other local children. She had to work although there was much she couldn't do. 
One of the tasks was to cut hay to make chaff for the feeds. The old chaff cutter had seen better days but was still functional. A big bin of the stuff was used every day. Joey wanted to have a go and along with much laughter she turned the handle, when it was away from her she couldn't pull it back towards her so another child would grab her around her waist and pull her back. 
So it was, many adaptations were made so she could be one of the kids. There was no discrimination or bullying, just acceptance. When it came to riding out to the fields someone would carry her sticks so she could stand at the other end.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Joey continued to ride and every pony she rode went well for her. On horseback she was no different to any other rider. Trot rising was an effort so she mostly sat. She started to compete and did well. She had no use of her legs so her seat was exceedingly strong. 

Jumping forward a few years, I was practically running the stables. Neither Mr Trumble nor Miss Fleming were in the best of health and Margaret had married and moved to the mainland. 

We had gone away to a big show. Joey had come with us but wasn't competing. Another girl, Debbie, was riding Misty in the jumping classes but she was ill. She hadn't looked well at the start and by the time we arrived she was nearly off her feet. 
Joey had jumped Misty at home and asked if she could ride instead. I was dubious as this was a BIG course, Misty could be very strong, he was only 13.2 but competed against 14.2s in the Junior Opens. 
I allowed the transfer of rider with Joey promising that if she felt him getting to strong she was to retire. 

I was wrong. They jumped one of six clears with 40 entries. It was the biggest course Misty had ever jumped and certainly the biggest for Joey. The jump of was even bigger. My heart was in my mouth and I am sure could be heard by the audience across the arena. 

The wall was directly towards the collecting ring and two strides out I couldn't see pony or rider, them Joey's hat and head appeared then Misty's his little ears pricked right forward and his legs tucked way up. 
They were clear again but in a steady time. They came fourth. 

They rode into the arena to get their prize and much to my concern had to dismount and walk up a rostrum to receive it from Princess Margaret. (she was pregnant at the time so I guess they didn't want to risk a horse knocking her) 

Joey sat on Misty looking back at the collecting ring. I started to go in the arena with her sticks and was stopped by the army steward. I ended up with jumping the barrier and running across. Everyone was looking wondering why Joey hadn't got off. I had to put the clips down on her calipers and dismounting she found it easier to bring her leg, which she had to lift, over the pony's neck amd slide down. It all took what seemed an eternity and I could feel people glaring. 

Once off armed with her sticks, Joey made her way to the rostrum. An officer standing there asked if she wanted to be lifted up. Joey glared at him with those bright green eyes and said, "Thank you, no. If I can get over that lot, I can manage three steps!" 

I helped her mount and asked the others to wait before moving off. I had to release her caliper clips and of course, one jammed. The applause when she cantered around the arena was deafening. No one had realised that she was different to the other riders. Her calipers never showed under her jodhpurs and the glint of metal at her heels, if anyone had noticed, would be assumed to be spurs. 

The other thing that I had noticed and a couple of people came up and commented on it, was that innthe six placed riders, Misty was the only one in a simple snaffle, caveson noseband and no martingale. 

The officer who had offered to lift her up the steps came over and said, "Well, what a right gutsy pair they were.

The press came over to find out more but Joey said she didn't want a fuss or to be written about, so they left her alone.


----------



## Foxhunter

*There were five 'main' stables on the Island, three or four other smaller places as well. 

There was a great deal of rivalry between us all but it was all with great sportsmanship. We would banter and heckle when appropriate but, is anything got broken or left behind one would always lend the other whatever it was. 

One of the games that was always held was Musical Change, in pairs in the main arena swapping horses when the music stopped. 

Pam and I would always do is together and use any two of the smaller ponies. We had it off pat, cantering about eight feet apart, side to side, when the music stopped off, one stride and on. 
One show the man running the games was anti us. Told Pam amd I that we had to go and get the horses we normally rode. He allowed Linda and Di from a rival stable to continue on two Shetlands. 

Pam and I never rushed to get back in the ring as they had started and the lmorw time we were out the less changes we had to do. 

We went back in on two 15.2s the music stopped and we changed horse without touching the ground, we won much to his annoyance. 

Another time, to show sportsmanship, I was racing back to the finish in a saddling race, I was tightening my girth as we charged to the line. Silly me! 
I wasn't on one of the school ponies but a young horse and he sent me flying with two bucks. Not easy to stay on a buck when one leg is forward in front of the animals shoulder and it bucks. I went a purler and landed heavily. Jean, the owner of a rival school, immediately stopped to see if I was all right. 

Jean had some beautiful horses but, they were all hot and excitable from over feeding. There was never any telling as to how they would behave at a show. Not quite true, you could bet they would be unpredictable.


----------



## Foxhunter

*When in my mid teens more parents started to buy ponies for their children. These were kept mostly at a riding school. 
Parents would ask Margaret to find something and she would go to a dealer she knew and look at several animals in one place. 

Living on an Island added at leat 90 minutes to a journey with the ferry crossing. The sea journey wasn't that long but you had to be there 30 minutes before sailing, loading and unloading the vehicles added up. 

About five of us went with Margaret to try some horses and ponies. Four were deemed suitable and subject to vet, bought. I had ridden a couple of others just to see what they were like. We were standing around having a cup of tea when Margaret asked about a chestnut mare tied up to a wall. The woman dealer said she knew nothing much about the animal as it had been taken in part exchange. What she did knowmwas that she was quite a hot ride. 
The mare was not exactly a show animal. About 13.3 She had a real roman nose, short in the neck, good shoulder, slightly sway backed, a butt that was taller than her withers. She had good well boned limbs and three ears! One ear had a split innit that nearly went the full length. 

Tack was found I I rode her in the field. She was fine, a little bit hot but not as bad as some. The only thing she did wrong was to spook at a water tank in the hedge as I cantered past it. Nothing terrible and she didn't do it next time.

Margaret bought her as is, very cheaply. Then I gave her a pop over a show jumping course and she was loving it. A bargain for the money she had cost. 

These new animals arrived the day before a show and Margaret told me that she wanted me to jump the mare at the show. The fact that the mare wasn't registered with the BSJA didn't enter into it. It would only matter if she won. 

E mare went well warming up. She got a bit excited at the practise fence but then settled. 

I went to the collecting ring to walk around and it was there that she started to show her temperament by standing up nearly vertical. Getting her into the arena was quite a challenge but in the end I got her in the arena. 

Margaret was Jump judging and announced my name, hesitating when it came to the pony's name. She rang the bell and as soon as the mare head it she fly leapt twice, I headed her towards the first fence. We cleared that gainingnspeed towards the second which we also cleared. I asked her to turn to the left towards the third fence but she just locked her jaw and headed straight for a car parked at the arena side. She cleared that length ways and took off with me around the show ground. 
As we disappeared I heard Margaret announce, "Elimination for Calamity Jane for leaving the arena." 

I went around the ground two or three times before I could pull her up. 
It was the start of a partnership that went on for a few years. No one else could ride her out of the arena.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Clammy was a pony on her own, she suffered from the chestnut mare syndrome and then some!

All over the Downs were gorse bushes, many of them several feet high. More than once whenshe started to fly leap I would turn her and she would leap into the furze and keep going until we found a clearing where she would stop, turn and go back out the way she had come in, fly leaping! 

I was really to tall for her, my legs were well below her belly, to clear the bigger fences I had to flick my legs back so my feet didn't knock down the rails. We were not elegant or classic but we were effective. 

The following summer Jane. Amd into season and stayed in. Back then there wasn't a lot that was done about it, you just worked around it. I had to change my way of riding. If I used my legs at all, Clammy wouldmslow right down, squeal swing her tail in a circle whilst peeing. Much the same if I sat down hard on her to use my seat. Go was from a click, check, slow or stop was use of leg and seat. The bigger the fences the more she would pee and tail swish. I would come out the arena sticky.

I used my voice a lot with her. "Ho" as we went over a jump with pressure on her neck from a hand meant when we landed we were turning away from the hand pressure. She would land on the correct leg and turn within a stride, very handy in a jump off.

Taking Clammy cross country was an experience! First time I took her it was a tad fast. There was a jump at the top of the hill and then you had to turn left to come down a short steep hill. At the bottom there was a hazard, you had to step into a steam turn right immediately step up onto a hard track across the stream then turn hard left through the gate. 
There were the red and white markers - which you have to go through at the edge of the stream but non out of it or at the gate. 

The only way I can describe coming down the hill was fast. We jumped the stream and the wire fence the other side of it. (The wire had been wrapped with sacks on the top strand.) as there were no markers I continued. Later I was told I was eliminated only after many objections from several people, did they have to back down, I hadn't broken any of the rules. 

A girl's father wanted to buy Clammy for his daughter. Miss Fleming and Mr Trumble said it was not a suitable match so he just kept offering more. In the end he bought her. The daughter rode her about three times at home and that was it. They gave her to someone as a brood mare. After many problems she did have a foal which was killed as a yearling in a horrid accident. 

Clammy spent her latter years as a pasture puff at a friend's stud farm. I went out to get her an another mare in for the farrier. As they were well across the paddock which was on the side of a hill and undulating, I vaulted onto Clammy. She stood there for several seconds, turned her head, sniffed my jeans, took a nip on the jeans and pulled whereby I laughed and slapped her across the neck. 
With that she did a little rear, came down and did a fly leap amd took off towards the gate flat out. The owner was stood at the gate and I yelled at her to move but she didn't. When she realised Clammy wasn't going to stop she folded over the gate. We cleared both and raced into the stables. Once stopped, she turned her head at an odd angle to look at me and I swear she was laughing.


----------



## Foxhunter

*I was always fascinated with injuries and their treatment. Generally all were fine, there were the kicks and the odd lameness from a stone bruise because t that was about all. 

One morning Tommy came in with a slash across his chest the needed stitching. It was a clean cut right through the dermis showing the muscle beneath. 
The vet arrived and looked at the wound, he got the suturing kit out, localised the wound and started to stitch. I was busy looking at the vet working standing in front of Tommy whereby he shot forward and flattened me. My fault for not concentrating on him! 

We had a pony come in for breaking, Skylark. He was beautiful looking and moved like a dream. He had been inadvertently bred by a farmer, he was out of a Shetland mare, Ladybird, by a TB stallion, Night Sky. The mare escaped one night and travelled a mile as the crow flies, through several fences, to get in with the stud. No one thought anything had happened as the field was flat, she was small, he was 16.2 and the field flat but, they managed it! 

Skylark was easy, he loved having something to do and was a willing learner. I backed him and did all the early riding with him. Margaret told David, his owner, that he would be worth showing at the County Show. He just laughed and said that there was no way he would be ready. Bets were made. 

It was decided that Pam would rode him in e show as I was tall on him and made him look small. Twomweeksmbeforenthenshow he got kicked high on the forearm and was lame. How we worked on getting that healed. Hot compresses, hosing and in the evening I would lead him down to the beach and stand him in the sea for at least an hour. 

He came sound and it healed enough to not be detrimental to his showing. He looked a picture and took the sho ground in his stride. In the ring he was a little lost, not sure what was going on and then a mainland competitor went past him on a very smart chestnut mare. That was it, Skylark took one look and was in love! Pam followed the mare and Skylark did a wonderful extension to keep up. 

In the end the mare came first and Skylark stood second to her.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Margaret organised a Hunter Initiative Competition for the Pony Club. 
This was a two or three mile ride around a big estate, optional jumps. 

The idea was to ride as if riding with hounds. There were signs up to set the pace, Hounds have found and are running hard. Hounds have checked, riding to the next covert. 

All this was to stop it all being a mad race. There was a bogey time and armed with a pencil amd paper we had to collect letters around the course and our time taken was taken when we handed in the solved anagram.

You could gomas an individual or ride in pairs. When handed thenpapaer we were told that the answer was two related words containing seven letters in each.

We were sat around on the horses waiting to start when Michele (10) announced that the only horse thing she could think of that fitted was stirrup leather whereby she filled in her paper. I just laughed. 

The mare I was riding was a remedial, she bucked. She bucked after a spook, bucked because she was feeling well and she bucked to just get rid of the rider any excuse was good enough for her to bronc. I decided to go on my own, partly because she could also be nappy and I wanted her to do as I said and not just because there was another horse doing it. 

Michele went off in the junior section. Her pony, Jester, was a champion pony in that he was willing, sane and sensible. 

I set off amd had baulking problems when the mare realised she was leaving everyone. Then another rider went past and she wanted to go so I made her trot and canter around the field. She jumped all I asked and we went at a steady pace all round the course rather than having a gallop amdmthem walking for a while. 

Collecting the letters seemed pointless as the first letter was a P and the second an L. 
At the finish I filled in the card and handed it in. 

Michele won the juniors and I the senior. People were stuck for ages on the anagram and of course as Margaret had organised event, cries of us having been told were banded about. 

She hadn't said anything to any of us.


----------



## Chasin Ponies

foxhunter, this is a fascinating journal and you've led a fascinating life! I'm enjoying all of it (even though I have guess at the "lingo" sometimes!)


----------



## Foxhunter

* _Thank you Chasin if you or anyone has a problem with the lingo, I will try and translate!_

I loved going out Fox Hunting, though opportunities were limited as Saturdays were busy at the stables and Mr Trumble wasn't riding very much and had given up hunting. His sight was very bad and he also suffered with a very painful back. So generally the only times I could go out was to the Pony Club meets. 

It must have been late April, hunting had finished for the season yet, in the afternoon we could hear the hunting horn and hounds. It had been decided to have. 'Bye Day' up on the Downs. Being the children we were instead of riding the ponies out tomthe fields and turning them out, we continued riding them to where we could see the Huntsman and Whips. It was late afternoon and only the Hunt staff were mounted, the rest were on foot. 

There wasn't a lot going on, plenty of foxes but the gorse was so thick it was hard for hounds to hunt them.

The ponies didn't mind us giving them extra work as they all loved hunting. Luckily it was all standing around watching and listening, just as well as I was on Misty and he wasn't allowed to hunt withntack on let alone bareback in a halter! 

After about an hour they called it a day and blew for home. Hounds were gathered up and then I was asked if I would ride the staff horses down the road to the old Railway Station where the horsebox was parked. They would take hounds down over St Boniface where there was no exit for the horses. The others rode back to the fields and led Misty. 

I was like a dog with two tails to be asked to do such a thing. I mounted up on Griselda, a big grey mare and led Red and Clumpy, down the steep hill onto the road and down to the railway station. 

The headcollars were hanging on the side of the horsebox and I untacked the three. No sign of anyone. They should have been there before me. 

The station had been out of use for several years, the tracks were still there and I allowed the horses to pick at the sparse grass growing randomly along the tracks. 

I held onto the horses for what seemed like half a day, it was probably a good hour and had moved to a grassy bank just off the road. The Master's wife drove up and told me that on their way down hounds had put up a Fox and they were hunting it on foot. (Didn't have a lot of choice as I had the horses!) she asked me if I wanted a drink and I said a lime juice. She went into the pub and returned with a small wine glass of lime. I knew it wasn't what I had ordered but drank it anyway. Twice she replenished my glass. 

Finally the Master appeared. He was ancient and hadn't ridden to hounds for years. He was complaining about the cows. He had trodden on a dry cow pat and slipped, his backside was covered in cow poop. 
He disappeared into the pub and returned with more 'lime.'

Finally they appeared with hounds. Hounds were put up in the horsebox and then thenhorses loaded. Ramp closed amd back to the pub. 

I finally went home. The hill down to the town is steep and has a hand rail down most of it. I was aware that I was relying on thenrail to keep me upright. 

I finally got indoors. Mum had a rule that she wouldn't cook on a Saturday but we would have Fish and Chips. She took one look at me and knew I was drunk. She just laughed and told me I should have poured the drink away when they weren't looking. She made me some scrambled eggs on thick toast and made me drink a glass of milk amd several pints of water. I was fine after that.


----------



## Foxhunter

*One thing I was brought up with was fairness. If I was at school and Mummy bought my sister some sweets, there was the same waiting for me when I got home. I was also taught that life was unfair so just get on with it.

I started school when I was four. I cried the first day I went because my mother insisted on taking me. The school was just around the corner from where we lived and I couldn't see the need. 

I was already reading stories so when the Janet and John books were given to us I thought they were babyish. I remember in my third year being told to read from the book in front of the class. I had the book by my side and recited all the next three pages without looking. I was smacked formthat which I thought was unfair. Later, we were learning our three and four times tables, everyone reciting them at the same time, once three is three twice three is six and so on up to twelve times three is thirty six. We had to learn this by heart for the next day. 
In turn we had to stand and recite the table on our own. The teacher chose whether we said the three or four times. I was one of the last to stand and I just said, "Four, eight, twelve," through to forty eight. Again I was smacked. That was it for me with that teacher and after that I did as little as possible for her. 
It might have been showing off, I really don't know, I do know that I found it all rather boring. This was all in the third grade. 

Living so close to the school I returned home for lunch. I longed to stay for school dinners! Mummy was going somewhere one day and I was allowed to stay for dinner. I paid my three pence on the Monday for my meal on the Wednesday. 
We were dished up the main meal, then for pudding it was semolina which I hated and still do. When I saw what it was I politely said, "No thank you, I don't want any." 
Miss Webly, the headmistress was there and told me I had to eat it. I told her I didn't like it and would be sick. I refused to eat it so she spoon fed it to me. When I finished I got up from the table and said I needed to go be sick. She grabbed my arm and pulled me back whereby I threw up straight down her ample breast. 

I know I was in Primary School when I started to get migraines, moving to Middle School they got worse and by the time I was in High School I was missing several weeks each term. These migraines would last two or three weeks. Terrible headaches and sickness. I would take to my bed and sleep. I was tested for allergies looking for a trigger but none was ever found. 

Mummy would call the GP, Dr Graham - Stewart who would send a sick note to the school. When I was recovering he would say, "You need to get out and get some fresh air." I would have a few days at the stables, doctors orders so, must be obeyed. I loved that man! 

I missed most of the last two terms of my second year and high school and part of the first term of my third year there. It was after this that the Doctor gave Mummy a sealed envelope telling her to open it when I left school. In it there was a card saying, Migraines caused by an allergy - to school. He was right, I wasn't ill during the holidays and, touch wood, have never had another since leaving school at fifteen, 

I didn't know until I was home caring for Mummy, that she could tell when I was going to get an attack. Evidently I would eat and eat for three or four days, then for two days drink gallons of water and then be off my feet. I always had the feeling that the tops of my legs were covered in goose bumps, they were funny to touch and when like this I had to take to my bed. It is still the same today. If I get a bad infection, my legs feel the same and I have learned not to ignore but to go to bed, 

THat is the only residue I have from the migraines.


----------



## Foxhunter

* When I was seven we moved house, we went from a two up, two down. Tiny kitchen and outside toilet, no bathroom, to across the road into a big house, three floors, five bedrooms and a bathroom. 

Daddy worked to get it habitable for us. An old eccentric couple had lived in there for years and both had died leaving it like a hoarders. 

Most of our weekly shop was done at the corner shop, no big stores in those days and shopping was usually done on a daily basis. An older couplemran the shop, Mr and Mrs Butt. I had earned three pence and went round there to spend it. Behind the small counter on a display shelf was a tin of toffees with a picture of Roy Rodgers and Trigger on the front. I wanted it so badly. Mummy's birthday was coming up so I asked Mrs Butt if I could buy it by paying when I had the money. It was purely selfish on my behalf, Mum could have the sweets and when she had finished I could have the tin. 
I handed over my pennies and Mrs Butt put the tin to one side with a note saying it was for me and marked off what was to pay. I ran errands and every penny went to that tin. When I only had three pence to pay off Mrs Butt allowed me to take it home. She knew it was for Mummy and carefully helped me wrap it in brown paper, 
On getting home I hid it in the bottom drawer of my dressing table. I was so pleased with myself as it was the first present I had actually bought on my own. I told Mummy I had hidden her present there and she promised not to look. I felt sorry for Sally as she was to young (4) to do anything on her own so I told her and said we could share giving it to Mum. 

I came home from school and Sally and Mummy were both eating some sweets, I asked where mine were and Mum said Sally had got them. I immediately rushed to my room. The tin was in the drawer, two toffees left. I was heartbroken and when not allowed to kill my little sister, I sobbed. 
Mummy tries to placate me saying it didn't matter but to me it did, big time! 

Obviously Sally was to young to understand BUT years later when I was working, I had done my Christmas shopping and had ended up with money from many clients so I decided to get Mum an extra present in the form of a clock for the mantelpiece. It was Christmas Eve.
Sally saw me go into the jewellers and asked what I was doing. I told her and she asked if she could share the present. I agreed, she had ten shillings Daddy had given her to get something for Mum. We chose a clock, it was put in a box. Sally wanted to get some nice paper to wrap it so she, and the clock, went off to the stationers. I went home. 
Sally went straight to her room and wrapped the present and placed it under the tree. Presents were handed out and I watch Mummy as she carefully unwrapped the pretty paper Sally had bought. She was thrilled when she saw the clock and immediately thanked Sally. I immediately asked what about me? Mummy looked at the label and said that it was from Sally. I was mad and snatched the tag away from her. There I was, 'To Mummy, lots of love Sally.' 
Murder was on my mind. Sally said it did say 'and Linda' on the back of the tag, it did in the tiniest of writing in very faint pencil. You needed a magnifying glass to read it.

To rub salt into an open wound, I never received any money from her.


----------



## Foxhunter

*I couldn't wait to leave school, I didn't need educational qualifications to do what I wanted to do - work with horses. Despite missing much schooling, I remained in the A stream. For all my senior years my challenge had been to see how much I could get away with by not doing the work. 
Teachers that were strict and tough I respected and did work for, like Mr Martin the Math teacher. He had my number and would challenge me. I was ahead of most of the class by several text books. He had me down to take my exam a year early. I had been absent for a couple of weeks prior to the exam and was nervous about it. He told me that I only had to get three problems solved and I would pass. 
I went into the hall, looked at the papaer, did the first three problems, solved them, did a forth and left to go to the stables. 
As I walked down the corridor Mr Martin came out the staff room. He took one look at me, face palmed his head and said, "I knew when I opened my big mouth and told you about only needing three right, it was the wrong thing to say!" 
I retorted, "Well, I did four to make sure!" I left him there shaking his head. 

Mr Lewis was the Deputy Head and History teacher. He was meant to be tough but I didn't think so. He would lecture in a lesson and we had to take notes then in our own time write them up as well as do the research homework. Someone would then take him the homework papers for marking. 

I did one homework receiving 4 out of 20. I never wrote up any notes not did I ever do another homework in four years. It wasn't missed. 

Then at the end of the first term of forth year he asked for all our folders so he could decide who was to take the exam. Everyone had files containing reems of paper, I had two sheets in mine. 
I took some old papers from other lessons, threw them up in the air so they blew down the street with everyone chasing after them to get them back. I handed him a thick file of soggy paper where the ink had run. Tearfully I said I had slipped and dropped the file and it had blown most of the papers away. 
He placed a hand on my shoulder and said, "I know you have done some excellent work, don't worry about it." 

Our English teacher, Miss Lake, was a great influence on me. We didn't have her until the last two years of school. She was a big as in tall, florid woman who made learning fun. I read a lot but was useless at spelling, not 'big' words, simple ones. I would spell something like bus as buss, she would tell me that it was a single decker not a double. Lovelly was that good to have three Ls. Silly little things that stick with me today and taught me that to teach you had to adapt to get your point across. 

The other teacher was Mr Townsend. He was a feared teacher whose reputation went before him. He had been a PE teacher but arthritis had stopped a lot of physical activities for him so he taught remedial classes mostly. 
The last term of school all those leaving were dumped in one class and this was taught for 90% of the week by Mr Townsend. Taught is not really the right word as most were not at all interested so each lesson became a discussion/debate and were great fun. I asked him why he was deemed to be the toughest teacher in the school amd he told me that the first year you terrify them, the second they get glimpses that you are human, the third you can have fun but maintain control and the fourth, when work should be hard, you can make it fun all the time. 
That by making it fun people want to learn more and will put the work into it. 
He was right. 

I went with Mother to meet with the careers officer. He did all he could to stop me working at the riding school. He told me that it wasn't all galloping across fields with the wind blowing in my hair and that I just didn't understand how hard work it was. 
Mummy interjected and told him that I knew what it was like to trudge through snow dragging a sledge laden with churns of water. 
He then said he could get me a job in Woolworths and earn £5 a week (rather than the £3 I would be getting from the stables. 
I looked at him and told him I would be worse off to which he sneeringly asked how earning £2 more each week would be worse. 
I told him that Mum would take half my wages for keep. Bus fares would cost more, I could walk to work but not to the store in the next town. I would want to ride and that would take £1 so, I would have ten shillings to spend. At the stables I had no extra expenses so would have thirty shillings to spend! 
He gave up.


----------



## Foxhunter

*I started working at the riding school that summer. I was just fifteen. Not a lot changed except that I was escorting rides out with Miss Fleming, mostly tourists. 

We would go mostly the same way, across the field, up Chalk Lane, a bridlepath onto the Downs. Usually I would be at the front of the ride and at the top would open the wooden gate mounted, holding it open for the tourists. The horses knew the routine and would walk to a clearing and stop amd wait. 
Here Miss Fleming would always ask me how many thank yous I had received. If I said eleven and there were twelve riders, she would lecture them all on how onemday they might be out hunting and if they didn't thank the gate opener it might get slammed in their face. 

It always made me laugh as I doubt if any of these people would rode other than when on holiday but, at the next gate they would all thank me. 

There was a lul from the beginning of September when most schools went back and when the private schools did. The Chine girls would return mid September and we would get a list of those wanting to ride. 
These girls were charged more for rides than the locals. Conditions were that they were not taken with the public. 

Miss Fleming would drive down to the school amd pick up the little one, usually eight to ten years old. Many were novices though there were some that could ride. They rode from 11-12, the middle school rode from 12-1 and seniors at 2.30. 
Someone would drive down to pick up the middle girls and Miss Fleming would take the little ones back. If the tide was right and both rides were going to the beach then we would rode and lead bigger ponies to the school and they would swap there and we rode back on the little ones. 

Often I would rode with both of these rides especially if there were lead reins. 

Mr Trumble was rarely riding at this point, he was fairly crippled with his back. Margaret had bought a green Irish cob mare, Kerry. She had been turned away for three or four months. She was brought back to start work. 

Mr Trumble decided that he was going to ride her. I did my best to stop him but not so easy when you are young and he was my boss. The mare was good to tack up and stood relatively quietly whilst he clambered on. 
I thought he would rode her in the arena but he didn't, he took her out along the track. Within minutes Kerry came galloping back reins broken, stirrups flapping. I grabbed a halter and toed her up and ran to see where Mr Trumble was. 
He was just about scraping himself from the ground, obviously battered, bruised and very shaken up but refusing to admit it. He limped his way back and told me he was going to ride her again. That was it. I absolutely stood up to him and unsaddled Kerry, grabbed her before he could do anything and turned her out in a field. He got angrier and angrier with me for refusing to go catch her. I wasn't sacked despite ignoring his demands. In the end he gave up and went home. 

Next morning Margaret was furious with me for letting him ride Kerry but realised that there was little I could do about it. Really he rode very little after that.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Margaret would buy a horse cheaply and then get problems sorted and sell it on. She bought a dark bay TB, Freddie. I never liked him much as he always struck me as being an ungenerous horse. He would be fine for Margaret and then when I started riding him he would try every trick in the book to bury me. 

At a mainland show I had the dubious pleasure of riding him in a hunter class. I wasn't really very well having had a pretty bad concussion. 

He found a way to get me off by bringing his back end up and sending me forward and then dropping his shoulder. I came off him three times each time landing on my butt hard. 

Third time I was barely able to move and Ken, the owner of the transport company, took me to an ER in the lorry. I was X-rayed and in the waiting rooms the results. Ken was a big man and had several grandchildren. After a longish wait an Indian doctor appeared, he looked at Ken and said, "I am very pleased to tell you that your wife has not broken her coccyx and she has wonderful child bearing hips." 

Not long after this Margaret met up with her future husband. She was teaching a lot of outside people and we saw her less and less. 

I had a friend, Lynn working with me the first year. Lynn had suffered a broken leg and missed the first term of her nursing training so had to wait a full year before she could start. Lynn was known as Wee Wee Wheeler because anything would set her off laughing and she would run to the nearest bush. It was so bad that we were not allowed to go out to the Downs together because we took to long to bring the animals in.

With Mr Trumble not riding and Miss Fleming only really working mornings, I was thrown in at the deep end and ended up taking most of the afternoon rides along with Lynn. 

The boarding school had broken up for the summer term but other schools hadn't so we weren't rally busy. One morning two middle aged women came and asked if they could book a ride. They said that they were experienced riders. I told him that we had a beginners rode going out that afternoon and they were happy to join it. 

This was a ride I will never forget! Two Scottish men had also arrived that morning, both wearing kilts. They were told that they would have to wear trousers. There were also two couples both on their honeymoon and the two women. 

I had booked one of the women on Taffy, the pony that bit, and the other on a newish pony, Frosty. As soon as it came to mounting it was obvious that the two women hadn't a clue about riding. It didn't really matter as the horses were use to novices. All the way up the path to the Downs the woman on Taffy was squealing and very nervous. We got to the track along the top and Lynn in front, me at the back, I told them to take both reins in one hand and the front of the saddle with the other and we would have a trot. 
Well, the Taffy woman bounced left, then right, fell forward so I called out for a walk. 

Walking the whole rode made us late. It didn't really matter as there wasn't another ride to go out. Taffy had a very rolling walk amd as we came off the hill so the woman screeched that her saddle was slipping. At a gate I had got off to open, I checked his girth and all was fine. 

On the road back i again issued the trotting command and we had a jog trot. I think that Taffy was fed up with the squawks and squeals emitting from hos rider who was again all over the place. Again I called for a walk. Lynn was riding alongside one of the Scottish men, then one couple, the two women, the other couple then me and the other Scot. Lynn came back to a walk but Taffy started to go past her still jogging. Lynn tried to grab his rein but he was a bit to far out and she wasn't quick enough. 
The woman bounced to either side and then fell off. She landed on her feet and then sat down in front of Taffy screaming out, "Get him off, get him off!" 

I thought that Taffy had bitten her but he was standing stock still with his front feet firmly planted on her sweater. I didn't dare look at Lynn because we would have both shrieked. 
I got the woman up and she did ride back to the stables. I told her that she had said they were experienced and that wasn't true. 

At the stables she said she hadn't hurt herself and they paid and went off. I don't think they could have been out of earshot before one of the other women started mimicking her. 

Something warned me that it wasn't the end of the matter and I had the sense to take names and addresses of the others. Sure enough a few weeks later Mr Trumble was opening the mail amd ther ewasna letter from the woman saying she had broken her spectacles in the fall amd wanted her new ones paying for. He wrote back telling her that there were notices saying that people rode at their own risk. Next there was a letter from a solicitor claiming for her glasses and back injury and trauma. 
It was easy to get letters from the others on the ride and they were all prepared to state that he glasses were fine and that she had said she wasn't hurt. 

Thatnwas the last we heard. In retrospect, I am certain that she could ride and intended to try and make a claim. In all the years I taught, including disabled riders, I have never had anyone bounce around like she did - nor make as many noises.


----------



## Foxhunter

* To teach the private girls school you had to have qualifications so as Margaret was leaving i wanted to take my teaching exams. To do this you had to be 17.5 years old. I joined the British Horse society and put my birthdate a year earlier. Had Mum sign it without really allowing her to read it and sent it off. I then applied to take my British Horse Society Assistant Instructors exam

Margaret had married Guy and was living on the mainland. Lynn had left to do her nursing and a new girl, Jane, had started working. She lived across the Island so lodged at home with me. When her mother came over to meet Mum and check things were OK Mummy told her very firmly that as long as Jane was living under her roof she would be treated the same as Sally and I and had to adhere to the same rules. I think it was a great relief to her mother! Jane was fifteen.

I went off and took my exam. It was really quite farcical and I couldn't believe the place where we took it. I had only been use to the one stables, this place was so different and not, in my thoughts, for the better. 

I stayed with Margaret and Guy for five days prior to the exam for a short course at the stables. 

The horse were practically dead. They all looked well and were turned out well but, they were dummies to rode. One grey horse, to be used in the exam, would not canter. Didn't matter what you did he would just trot faster and faster - even going cross country. You might get one or two strides out of him and then it was back to a fast trot, 

Something happened and the instructor who was taking us told us to go to the outdoor arena and warm up. This was my chance and with sheer determination and a dressage whip, I had this lump of an animal cantering on both reins from strong cues. Another horse was blind in his left eye and would not keep to the rail when on the right rein. 

The day of the exam the sixteen of us who were taking it, were divided into two groups. There were four examiners, one of whom was Margaret's ex boss. 

One part, the practical stable management, we all came together in the indoor arena. Horses were tied around the sides and we had to do things like bandages, saddling, fitting tack and much else. We also had to fill in a chart with fifty parts of a horse and another with sites of ailments. I was doing this sat in the gallery when there was a simultaneous flash of lightning and clap pf thunder. Majority of the horses pulled back and got free those that hadn't soon did when the loose animals were galloping around the arena. Most just stood there or were getting up having been knocked over in the initial panic. The door to the exit was open right by me and my instinct was to stand there yelling and waving my arms and clip board to stop them escaping. It worked and they charged for a few moments around the arena. No harm was done. 

In the afternoon we had to ride cross country. Warming up, the horse I was on was lame, not terribly but certainly going short. I told the head gorl and she told me to keep riding it. I then told one of the examiners who watched and agreed it was going short and asked for another horse. 

A girl that worked there brought out a nice looking horse I hadn't seen ridden, she warned me that this horse was not an easy cross country rode as it stopped at water and ditches. Forewarned is forearmed and I used all I had to get this horse around the fences. It wasn't pretty but was effective. When the other group had their turn the person riding this horse couldn't get it over half the fences. 

I passed with 96% so I could teach the private girls.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Going to the mainland for a show was a big thing. First, good to come up against 'strangers' competing and, made us work harder with our riding.

We had been away for a show. I hadn't been riding but gone to help. 

It was about eight that night when we arrived at the ferry, the weather had closed in and a bad storm was racing. 

The horsebox was really a cattle truck, very basic, certainly no luxurious living! Three passengers could fit in the cab plus the driver. The rest of us had to travel in the back with a partition between us and the horses. The tack and anything else was in the luton, the area above the cab. 

Actual sailing time was only forty minutes but in inclement weather it could be a lot longer. They didn't like taking horses in bad weather and amcpuple of times they actually roped the lorry down. On this rough night they said we couldn't sail. 

A couple of the girls called their parents and travelled as foot passengers, others decided to stay. We drove off and got something to eat hen returned to the dock to get some sleep. 

Tack was rearranged and I was sleeping in the luton, Margaret and two others were sleeping on the floor. The ponies had been watered and had hay in nets and were fine standing. 

We broke open the bales of straw we had used to sit on whilst travelling, and covered ourselves withnthat.

I did fall asleep but it was so cold. The wind was whistling through the vents and the lorry shook with strong gusts. 
When I awoke the wind had ceased, all was quiet. I looked down and thought that the others had already woken up and gone out. I jumped down only to land on the three cuddling together on the floor covered with the straw. 

I went out. I ached, was cold and I needed to move to alleviate both. 

I wandered off around the docks. Not a lot was going on as thenstorm had stopped much loading and unloading activity. 

I was hungry and thirsty. I found a milkman and bought a pint of milk from him then meandered my way back to the others. I saw a smaller boat being unloaded and wandered over, boxes were being carried off and getting closer, I could see they were early strawberries. 
I chatted to the men and helped carry some of the boxes. It was just light and the activity had warmed me up. I was rewarded with a box of the berries which I took back to the lorry. The others were up. None of us, including Ken, had slept well but we had survived. 

First boat they could get us on was 6.15. The cafe at the ferry opened at 7.30. Before we could start on the strawberries the milkman appeared and so someone bought some cream from him. We sat around eating strawberries dipping them in the cream first. 

The men who loaded the ferries were good, they saw our predicament and made us cups of tea and coffee in their hut. One of the best breakfasts ever!


----------



## Foxhunter

* Besides the Private School girls there were other people who wanted privatemlessons for their children. Two of these were princes of some obscure German (I think) state. They were quite young and I had the duty of taking them out on lead reins. Mother had knitted me a yellow sweater with two horses heads on it. These two boys loved it and their mother asked where I had bought it. I told her mother had knitted it and she asked if she would make two for the boys. Mummy did and by the next week both had yellow sweaters with horses heads on it. One had bay horses the other chestnut. 
I told the mother how much the wool had cost which was around £3 and she gave me £20 to give to mummy. 

They were down on the Island a lot and often she would say she had found a pattern of a sweater she liked, would mummy knit it. Mother always did, she was a beautiful knitter, and was always paid handsomely for her efforts. 

Taffy, who was hitting his thirties was coming up lame more and more. He was arthritic and the decision was made to have him euthanised by the Hunt. 
I had him in his usual stand place, he had had a good feed and was happy enough. He had hated being left behind and not working. 
The Huntsman arrived and I went to get the old pony and he wasn't there. One of the girls had taken him and run away with him. She had taken him about five miles away to another riding school. Fortunately the owner called to say what had happened and Taffy departed this world at her place.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I enjoyed teaching, it seemed to come naturally to me. More and more of the lessons were left to me. The juniors amd 'babies' were fine but the older girls were the same age or in some cases older than me, so it was a bit more difficult. 

Many of these girls stick in my memory for a variety of reasons. 

Primarily it was a boarding school but they also had day pupils. With a new term started a new girl, Barbara, she was five and tiny. Miss Fleming took her out on her own whilst I took the others all of whom had been riding for a year or more. Barbara stayed with Miss Fleming for that term and was longing to join in with the other girls. 
One day Barbara arrived in floods of tears. Miss Fleming didn't know what to do with her so I was left to try and find out what was causing the upset. 

I never put her on a pony, instead we got the lunch feeds for the ponies ready and generally just messed around. Eventually I had her on my lap in the tack room, she seemed so lost amd looked like she needed a good cuddle. Then she told me it was her sixth birthday and she hadn't received any cards from her parents. 

As she was so you we had presumed she was a day girl but she was a boarder. Many parents boarded their children if they were working abroad but this wasn't the case with Barbara. Her parents lived on the mainland and quite close to the Island. Poor little mite, I was so angry with her parents. 

When they went back to the school I called the head and told her what had happened and really she was not at all sympathetic. I called a neighbour and asked her to go ask mum to bake a sixth birthday cake for that afternoon. 

I called in a favour from another neighbour and armed with a soft toy, birthday card and most important a birthday cake, I was driven over to the annex where the little ones lived. They were just about to have tea so all was well timed amd the other girls had cheered Barbara up with cards and gifts. 

Next ride for her was the following week and I took them all in the arena. Something I did wasma lot of two ride work, they would number front to back and then ride up the centre line, odd numbers to the left, even right, it kept the riders on their toes amd stopped the ponies from becoming nose to tail followers. 
Barbara was on dear old Molly who knew her job isdoe out and upside down. I issued the order for the rode to turn left and they all turned right except Barbara, well, she was trying to turn left but Molly joined the others. I halted them and said, "Barbara, please tell the ride how you tell your left hand from your right hand!"
She dropped her reins and said, "Please, Linda, I tell my left hand from my right hand because y left thumb points inwards." 
I didn't have the heart to tell her that she had her left hand palm down and her right palm up. It worked for her so why spoil it? 

At the end of the lesson we did some grids and jumping over the cavelett. The ride was lined up facing the grid. They took it in turns, one would be going over the line, the next walking down to get ready and once over the grid that rider waited at the top for the next to come over. 

Barbara had done the trotting poles fine. I set up a single caveletti for them to pop over. Barbara wanted to do it too. She wasn't really ready but I trusted Molly. They lined up and much to my horror Molly charged at the jump. Barbara had her eyes screwed tightly shut and held a ***** of mane in either hand. Molly then slowed down, walked over the pole and trotted to the top of the arena. 

"Barbara," I asked, "Why have you got you eyes shut?"

"Please Linda, I shut my eyes so I wouldn't see if I fell off. ”


----------



## egrogan

I adore Barbara's story. As a teacher- both in elementary school and in riding school- I always gravitate to the ones who are a little lost or need a little extra understanding because the world is conspiring against them.


----------



## Foxhunter

* One term ere was a new senior gorl started riding. You became well versed in being able to tell if someone could rode to not before they got anywhere near a horse but with these girls, they all had to have jodhpurs, hacking jackets amd hats. Boots were short and many wore their school lace up shoes so they all looked very similar. 

This girl, Nancy, had stated that she was an experienced rider. Oh boy, was she! First rides were in the arena and newbies were always put on the quieter animals. Well, Nancy was on Bran, a lovely pony and not a bad though in hos body but he could be a tad lazy if you let him. Within minutes she has Bran on the bit, working like a dressage horse and really there was little I could tell her.

The next ride we went to the beach. The girls were meant to have an horse rode but they didn't have anything to get back to school for so often it was longer. 

I had put Nancy up on Faro, she was more than capable of riding him. On the beach I sent hem one after the other with a few lengths distance between each to canter along the sand. 
Bye bye Nancy! Faro took quite a hold and soon they were charging past the other riders. 

Nancy was shocked. She said that she sat deep, used her legs to bring him onto the bridle but he just wouldn't listen. Turns out she had only ever ridden in an indoor arena and never out in the open where the horses can take a hold. I felt a lot better teaching her after that. 

At the end of term the seniors would all try and miss a ride during that term so that a group of them, all the better riders, had a final ride to use all their lessons. This particular term Nancy wasn't one of those riders. 

We went down to the beach and had had a good charge along jumping breakwaters as we went. 

The tide was coming in fast and we had been longer than normal. I sent them single file along the last stretch. There was a breakwater that wasn't jumpable because of stones washed up. Being springtime the tides were stronger than normal and the sand around the end of the breakwater had been pulled away leaving a very deep 'puddle'. The waves were just coming up to the puddle. I sent Nanace first and to my horror saw her pull to the end of the breakwater, the pony hit the deep water and went base over apex. Nana you disappeared and when she surfaced immediately dived under again. She told me she was looking for her spctacles! 

Had she pulled out into the sea the water was only inches deep rather than feet.


----------



## Foxhunter

* When Lynn left to go nursing a new girl was employed, Jane. She lived across the other side of the Island and public transport wasn't going to get her to and from the stables without a couple of hours travel each end of the day. The Island isn't that big but she would have to get three buses and there was a wait time with each. So, it was arranged that she would lodge with my family. 
Her mother come over to meet mummy who immediately said that if Jane was going to live with us then she would be treated as a member of the family and house rules would also apply to her. 

I think that Jane's mother was relieved at this as she was only fifteen. 

So Jane joined us. As her journey took so long it was arranged that instead of having every other Sunday off amd a half day each week, she would have every other Sunday and Monday off. 

We worked well together, she didn't like teaching or taking rides out but was happy with everything else. 

I don't think that Jane was use to consistent discipline. She would beg and plead against a punishment - usually not going out, whereby Mum would just say, "Two nights." If the begging went on it would be, "Three nights and if you keep on it will be a week!" 
Jane learned the hard way. 

We had a lot of fun together. Being a tourist area, new boys every week. They gained points if they had a car. Jane was usually the finder of these fellows, she would go out and find a pair and flirt with them and arrange a date. We were allowed out Friday, Saturday Sunday and Wednesdays. Monday, Tuesday and Thursday we had to stay in to recover. Mum was a stickler for sleep and we had to be in bed by nine those 'in' nights and Friday, Sunday and Wednesday we had to be home by ten, the other two it was eleven. 

Mum was right, we worked hard all day and couldn't burn he candle at both ends.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Before I started work a leopard spotted Appaloosa Happy, gelding arrived as a livery. He belonged to a woman living in London but moving to the Island. The girl who was working there at the time started riding him and she stuffed him full of oats. He became a bit of a nightmare to rode, very hot and very silly. I watched one day as he gave a real display of rodeo and dropped the girl. I didn't blame the horse as he had been sane and sensible at one point. 

The next day Margaret told me to lunge him. I have never had a horse like him on the end of a line. Sure, he had a good buck and a kick when he first started but after that he went around beautifully rhythmic in all paces. He obeyed voice commands and then I started to notice a few things about him. He had the inside eye on the whip all the time. He wasn't frightened of it, just watching. I noticed if I lowered the whip he would drop a pace, so, me being me, i set the caveletti sin a circle with some poles and let him loose amd I started playing. 
Whip dropped slow down, whip out to the left, turn to the right rein, spin the whip end in a circle and that was a roll back, raise the whip was a rear raise the whip and keep it up and move back he would walk on his hind legs. (no mean feat for him as he had a damaged hind leg which swung underneath him as he moved) 
When his owner eventually moved she told me he had been a circus horse but had been sold as the vehicle he was travelling in had been in an accident and he had smashed his back leg up and they didn't think he would be sound enough tor the circus. 

His owner wasn't very experienced. In London the riding had been on the paths across the common or an arena, here, with open spaces she found him very different, even without any oats! 

After I was working I started competing on Happy. I am sure that in several years of riding him he never ever refused a fence or ran out. It could be a bit hairy as he would lock onto a fence and just go for it. 

I tried for the PC team on him. There wasn't any good comment about his looks but there was no mistaking his talent jumping. As for the dressage, that particular year there were a lot of 20m circles so it suited him to a T ! He looked like he was on the bit but it was all false. All I had to do was guide him, sit still and very quietly so the judge could not hear, use my voice without moving my lips. Itmwprked because I ended up with a dressage score in the low 30s. Clear cross country but had three down show jumping so dropped to third place, just missing a place in the finals.


----------



## Foxhunter

* i cannot remember how or why I was asked to take a Land Rover and trailer to the mainland to deliver two Welsh ponies. I had little driving experience, never driven a trailer and never on the mainland but off I went. I never lacked confidence! 

First obstacle was that you had to reverse anything bigger than a car onto the ferry. I never even made a half hearted attempt, I was bad at reversing the van let alone a trailer. The lorry drivers all did it so easily I asked one of them if they would do it for me. Easy. 

I delivered the ponies and on the way back on a busy main road, a pony suddenly appeared in front of me. I stopped and took some rope amd fashioned a halter for him. He was around 14.2 seemed nice natured and from the hoof marks, had jumped out of a field, slid down a steep bank onto the verge where I saw him. 
By sheer chance a cop car came along. He didn't know what to do so, we loaded him on the trailer, I pulled off the road and the cops went to look for an owner. A farmer and his wife appeared cussing the pony out. He was forever jumping out. The Farmer said, "If someone gave me fifty quid they could have him." 
I had the cash for the two Welsh ponies and immediately offered him thirty pounds. He took it readily. I wished I had offered him twenty because I am sure he would have taken that! 

So arrived Alibaba,, a sane and sensible pony if ever there was one. My sister started to show jump him and no matter how low the fence he would only just clear it, he was the same with bigger fences always looking as if he was at his limit. 

Sally won a lot on him. We went to the mainland for some Hunter Trials, there were several people on the course at once and you could hear the commentator all the way around. 
Sally was first to go from out bunch, I was about four behind her on Happy. I could hear the commentary and the man said "Ali Bba has cleared the fourteenth fence, Beaulieu Mist is rapidly catching up with hiim." 
Then a bit later I heard, "Well, Alibaba is going well but he doesn't look like he is being chased by the fourty thieves today." I nearly fell off laughing. Never the fastest cross country but always jumped whatever was in front of him.


----------



## Foxhunter

* All the Downland fields lacked piped or spring water bar one so, we had to cart water in milk churns, to each filed. These churns were older and vey heavy, one particularly so as it had started to leak and Mr Trumble had filled it about a third full with concrete. It did stop the leak. 

Jane and I had taken ponies out and Mr Trumble had driven the van out laden with the churns. The tank was behind the hinge end of the gate so, to carry you had to go around the gate. 
It was winter and there had been deep mud in the gateway. This had started to dry and had got to the point of being really boot sucking when we had more rain. The consequence was that the deep holes were still boot sucking with the addition. Pf water filling them. 

Jane preferred to lift with her right hand so that put her at the gate side. We carried the first churn in and were just going around the gate when her boot got stuck. We stopped. I held the handle of the churn with both hands so it didn't sink whilst Jane took a hold of the gate with one hand and the top of her boot with the other to pull her foot out the mud. 
Mr Trumble was stood by the hinge end of the gate on the outside where it wasn't muddy, and said he had got it, to stop it closing. Yes, he did have a hold of it but he wasn't strong enough with the flucrum to keep it open so Jane so slowly was lowered face first into the mud. 
As was the custom I shrieked with laughter, Jane was laughing to. Her woolly hat came off and her long blonde hair was soon in the mud. 

Somehow she managed to get back up and gain a hold on the churn but of course I had also sunk into the mire amd had to get both boots out. 

We were both filthy. There was no way we would be allowed on the bus and I insisted that Mr Trumble drove us home. 

After that another old bath was put on the other side of the gate by the stile, this meant we could empty the churns directly into it from the road, the disadvantage was that in the summer, people chucked rubbish into it.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Another time, in the summer, Jane and I were taking the ponies out at the end of the day. The weather had been hot and humid, a storm was brewing. 
As we turned into the last stretch of road so there was a flash and a crash and the storm arrived. A few raindrops fell, they were big and then the skies opened up. Before we had got to the field we were drenched. 
Traffic was crawling along, wipers going but still unable to see. Most pulled into the car park opposite the field gate, to wait it out. We let the ponies loose and Jane, acting the idiot, got into the bath upholding their water and pretended she was washing herself. 

We went across the road to wait for the bus. There was a corner by the bus stop and the camber made the road edge into the car park higher than the corner so, debris washed down by the deluge soon blocked the drain on the bend so there was a deep puddle spread right across the road. 
Jane and I were playing silly and were in the puddle kicking water at each other. 

The deluge lasted for around fifteen minutes and then stopped as suddenly as it had started. Traffic began to move again. 

Around the corner came a Mini Car, it hit the puddle and stopped. Inside were four rather large people. Two women, both knitting, in the back and two men in the front. At the time all the elephant jokes were going around and Jane immediately said, "How do you get four elephants in a mini?" 
I replied, "Two in the front and two in the back." Which set us off in shrieks of silly laughter. 
The car window slid open and the driver looked out and said. "Push us out." It was a demand rather than a request. There was no please so I rudely said, "Push yourselves out." 

They had no choice but to get out. Before stepping out both men fashioned a hat from handkerchiefs by tying a knot in each corner and setting it on their heads. This set the two of us off again. 
When the driver opened his door the water flooded in. With much grunting and groaning they got the car through the puddle but the plugs, set at the front on the original Minis, were soaked so it wouldn't start. 

At that point the bus came along. The car was still in the car park the next morning so I guess they had to get a mechanic out to start it. 

Normally we would have helped but the way he demanded made us not.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Summers were always a busy time. Tourists flocked to the resorts, very few people travelled to Europe as they do nowadays, the other thing was that few people owned cars, they travelled by train and bus and they also walked just for the pleasure of the countryside. 
Unfortunately many had no idea of the rules of the countryside and often gates were left open. 
One Monday I had to bring in five of the weight carrying horses from Far Downs, the steepest and biggest area. Back then the buses had a driver and a conductor, there was no door, just an open platform on the left at the back. By standing g on the platform and looking out to the side, I could usually see where the horses were. Not this day they weren't in sight which meant that they must be on the far side. 
I trudged up the hill and walked across to where I thought they were. Not a sign of them so I walked along the top. At the end there were rails and both sets of rails were down. They could have been above on of the other fields or out on the main Downland. I walked one way and saw no hoof prints or droppings so went the other way. Not so easy to tell as this was a path we rode a lot and was hard being on flint. 
The area either side of the path was thick gorse, I walked along it and in a few places looked to see if they were down the side to no avail. 
At the end of the flint track there was a gate into more open Downland. That was shut. I had been well over an hour looking for them 
I walked down the bridlepath back to the stables. 
A couple of us were sent back out to look amd the children with their own ponies mounted up to search. 
Nothing, no sight or sound of the five. 

They were missing, gone, vanished into thin air. It was doubtful they had been stolen but the police were called and the ferries had records of all vehicles travelling and only two cattle wagons had gone across and they contained cattle. 

We searched on and off horseback and one evening I saw the backside of a black and white mare, Whiskey. She, and the others were three big areas away from where they should have been. The area had been searched previously and we found out that during the day when it was hot and a lot ofmflies around they were going into an old stone barn. This looked as of it was filled with hay but behind the haynwas a large calf pen. They had found their way in past a narrow gap between the wall and hay and spent their days out of the heat and flies. They had water, new hay and bedding to lie on - why work when they had all they needed?


----------



## Avna

Just wanted to pop in to say I am enjoying the stories immensely, and to answer the question about why downs means hills in Britain, it is from an old English word, dunn or doon, meaning hill -- as in sand dune. 'adune' meant 'of the hill' and came to mean downward meaning downhill. Down then became more generalized in meaning.


----------



## Foxhunter

Thanks Avna, I never thought to look it up just accepted it knowing all along that you certainly have to get up them before you can come down!


----------



## Foxhunter

* It was very unusual for the horses to get out of the fields through bad fencing. If they did escape it was usually from gates being opened. 

One afternoon I had a call from the police to say that there were several ponies on the road. Jane and I jumped in the van and drove to where they were. The police and another motorist had herded them into a field belonging to Miss Feming's brother. This was a steep field with a road down through the centre leading to a few houses. At the bottom there was a cattle grid, the road continued over this and ran in a circle to come back to join near the grid. 

The escapees were all the greedy ponies that, now fetlock deep in good grass, were not going to be silly enough to be caught. Our only hope was to chase them so they herded together and went along the track - they wouldn't go over the grid, and then close the gate to entrap them on the track. 
I asked the cops to godown to block the grid and then, of the plan worked. As soon as the ponies went along the track for them to drive the circle and block them so they had to return to where Jane and I would have closed the gate. 

Sure enough, we couldn't catch them, they watched us and as soon as we approached they moved off grabbing grass as they went so, we went into attack and chased them. They went off down the steep hill and along the track, the cops drove around and soon the ponies were heading back. The gate was closed and we managed to halter them. I handed a rope to a cop to hold and he recoiled in fear. He said he would deal with any rigger od villain but have nothing to do with horses or rats! 
Once caught Jane and I rode them back up the hill and put them in a different field until we could mend where they had broken through.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Jane and I worked hard, we were always ready to eat. We never left in the morning without having a big fried breakfast, out 'lunch' was three or four rounds of sandwiches, homemade cake, crisps (chips) and a couple of chocolate bars. Then on return home there would be a cooked dinner and a dessert. Often the evening was rounded off with cheese and biscuits. 

We never gained a pound in weight. 

One evening Jane and I were in later. Daddy was just finishing his meal when we sat down. Jane had a plate piled high. She was sat next to Dad but on the other side of the table. 
Daddy looked at her plate and remarked, "You aren't going to eat all that are you?" 
Jane said, "Probably."

Dad looked again and said "You gannet!" Amd made a shrieking noise like a gannet does. This went on several times and Jane, eventually fed up,with it, reached over and picked up an old hunting whip handle someone had given Dad to give to me. 
Jane brandished it in front of DD and said, "If you don't stop this I will whack you one. "
Dad went "Whaaaa!" so Jane hit him on the arm with the whip, then got up amd ran! 

The kitchen was in the semi basement and Jane ran up the steps out into the street. Dad ran after her and then he returned. When he did he said, "Look what she has done to me." And there on the top of his arm was a welt about four inches long and a couple wide. 
Mum amd I laughed and said he deserved it. 
Jane came in and sat to eat her dinner. When she saw the mark she had made she was so apologetic. 

For days Dad showed her the bruising as it changed colour and Jane kept saying, over and over, how sorry she was.

Then Dad told Mummy that Jane hadn't done it at all, he had knocked it on the door as he ran after her. Mum told me, I told Jane. 
Jane swore that no matter what she would never apologise to Dad again, she had said more than enough sorries to last her a lifetime. 

I don't think she ever apologised to him again!


----------



## Foxhunter

* The last hill field was next to the start of the houses. These had gardens that backed onto the Downs. 
Jane and I had thought it a good idea to open a hunting gate and allow the ponies extra grazing on the hill behind the houses. It had worked well, they were waiting around the gate for their hay in the morning and eating their evening hay and going walkabout at night. I gues it had been about a month theynhad had extra freedom then the silly beggars going and open garden gate and went visiting. The garden owner called Mr Trumble who shushed them out and closed the gate, came to my home and told us they had escaped and for us to find where in the morning. 
It was the end of November, most of the girls school had finished their term rides and we only wanted a few ponies in. We had stopped at the first field. Jane caught a needed pony and rode to the end of the field to close the gate whilst I put out the hay for those not coming in. 
Jane came back, and said, "You should see the sky it is as black as anything." 

We trotted down the next stretch of road and stopped to hay the two fields there. As we did so the incoming storm was passing is by out to sea.
We had to stop at the next corner to feed and by the time we had done so it was snowing hard, big flakes that were landing and staying on the frozen ground. As we went along the last stretch of road there were five or six horses in the farmer's field. They had been in the home fields and had obviously eascaped. Someone had shut them in the ploughed field and they wanted back home. 

The snow was several inches deep by this time and no traffic around. I took five of the ponies whilst Jane opened the gate and let the loose horses follow through. The field either side of the track had been fenced and we were grazing the top half. 

I was blocking the track with the five whilst Jane brought up the rear with three and six lose horses between us. As there wouldn't be any riding I decided the best thing was for us to turn them loose into one of the fields. I stopped to open the gate dismounted when there was a flash. Lightning had struck the TV ariel for the farm, mounted on a telegraph pole opposite the gate and also hit the gate. 
I was knocked for six, and as I scraped myself off the ground I saw Jane and umpteen horses galloping back down the track to the road. 

The soles of my boots were melted as were my thick rubber gloves but I was OK if a bit dazed. Jane came galloping back and the horses all shot into the field and high tailed it around, some with halters on some without. 

After the thunder and lightning the snow real did come on hard with a strong wind causing it to drift, 

We hayed the horses and had our breakfast. It wasn't long before the snow was a foot deep, deeper in drifted areas. Mr Trumble had mucked out the two stables horsss and gone home for his breakfast. 

It had been arranged that Miss Fleming would pick me up and together we would go to the school to write the reports. I called her to say that I would do them all (I had taken most of the lessons all that term) and for her to stay at home.

I changed into the clean respectable, non stable clothes I had brought with me and then donned waterproof trousers and jacket, headscarf and woolly hat and set out across the fields to the school. All down hill. It wasn't very easy going as the wind was strong and the snow made it hard to see. I was off course by many yards to the gate from one field to the track behind the school and had to walk uphill to get to it. I was exhausted even though it wasn't more than half a mile. 
There was a solid gate into the school gardens and rather than trudge through the wind and snow I clambered over it as my journey would be a lot shorter, 

There were some Thai girls out in the blizzard tasting the snow - they had never seen it before.

I spent ages writing repotprts, the numbers Riding had shot Up from around 60 to over double that. It took ages, best writing, noms rail!

I trudged up the road to get back to the stables. The snow had lessened off to a few flakes but it was hard going. 

Jane and I fed the horses at the stables early and set off to walk home and feed on the way. The only problem was that there was no hay left at the furthest field so we decided to move the ponies to the next field in where there was a stack. 

When we arrived at the field the ponies were waiting out in the wind, they had icicles hanging from their beards. We encountered a problem and that was the halters were frozen solid and we couldn't even get them apart from each other. 
So, we decided to herd them the 200 yards down the road. 
Of course they wanted to go home, they were cold and miserable. Once they realised they weren't going home they took off, charging through the tea gardens and onto the road. 

As happens with drifting one side of the road was less deep than the other but at the edge of the deeper drifts it was like a cliff and very little snow for a narrow walkway. 

People were walking home non were appropriately dressed, most women in mini skirts and heeled shoes and men in suits and ties. Jane and I got a kick out of it all as these were the same people who sneered at us as we walked home and they were in their cars. 

The ponies never stopped at the field, they continued on along the main road heading for town. They took the narrow path and kept going so people were leaping into the snow bank or up a garden wall. I was absolutely delighted to see that my cookery teacher from school was one of those that had dived head first into a drift. I really disliked the woman.
Jane and I ran after them not knowing where they were going to stop. This was not a road they ever went along. 
As we reached the top of the steep hill so they came trotting back towards us. Their breath showing in big clouds. A man who cycled to and from work had seen them coming and had stood there waving his arms and shouting at them. The ponies had warmed up and were willing to stop and turn around and head for familiar territory. 
We managed to fashion two halters from four and Jane on Ben, and me on Cheval started cantering back to the fields. Jane was in front and yelling out, "Mind your backs!" and people, having just dusted themselves off went back into the drifts - my teacher included. 

Once in the correct field and hay out for them, plenty of shelter they were content for the night. Jane and I took a different route home not wanting to have to stifle our laughter though we were tempted.


----------



## GMA100

I really am enjoying your stories! You had an amazing childhood!
Thank you for sharing these stories with us!


----------



## Foxhunter

Thank you very much.

Life is what you make it. In most things there is a funny side and being able to see that side helps a lot.


----------



## Foxhunter

* When I was young Daddy worked on the beach as a longshoreman, he was the only one who would swim in to pull someone out of the water when they were in trouble. 

He ruled the beach with a rod of iron. Teen lads were way more frightened of Dad getting hold of them than they were the police. 

Dad wasn't against these lads having fun but if they caused a nuisance to others then they were grabbed, taken into the sea and their heads held under, brought up for air and then ducked again. He spent a lot of time teaching people to swim. He taught me when I was just over a year old.

I don't know how old I was but certainly before I was spending all day at the stables, when a couple were on the sands lying out on beach towels. The place was packed as the tide was coming in squashing folk together. 
The woman had on a very small bikini and believe me back in the 50s this was something very new. They were kissing away and upsetting families around. Dad went over and told them to stop or if they wished to continue to go back to their hotel room. They didn't stop so Dad filled a big wooden bucket from the sea and threw it over them saying "If you behave like dogs I'll treat you like dogs." The man was furious and jumped up facing Dad and took a swing at him. Before he knew it Dad had him in a head lock and marched him into the sea and gave him a good ducking with onlookers cheering. I felt very proud he was my father. 

Where I lived had been badly bombed during the war. New council houses had been built up one street and they were building more in the adjoining street. How they ever got them finished I will never know as no sooner had the workmen left then we children were clambering all over the scaffolding. I remember one girl getting stuck up a partially built chimney and the bigger children knocking down the newly laid bricks to get her out. 

The houses filled up with families and Dad would say to the very young children, "Have you been good or naughty? If you've been naughty then I will put you in a sack, take you to the end of the pier and feed you to the fishes." 
The children would hide behind their mother and any naughtinesss was soon stopped by "I'll go and get Fred." 

By the time these children were around five or six, they would follow Dad like he was the Pied Piper, he would take them on long walks with the dogs never following the worn paths. They would return home scratched and stung but happy as Larry. Always singing silly songs or having learned a new joke. 

Even today, and Dad has been dead for seven years this month, people stop me to talk about him and his antics. I don't think there is a male in the town that grew up here that Dad hadn't thumped. 

Mum was different, she wasn't as outgoing as Dad but she had a heart of gold. She would take in all sorts of waifs and strays, animal or human. There were no grey areas with her, she said what she meant and would always follow through. I am sure that I obtained a lot of my ability to train animals from her. She would tell me how, never let me be rough or angry when things didn't go right and would explain what I should be doing. By the age of eight I had a rabbit doing all sorts of tricks and would take her and the cat in a pram with a couple of dogs in tow, out for walks. 

My parents never argued in front of my sister and me. The first time I heard them row was when I was 14 and that was over a dog so you can guess who started it! Needless to say, we ended up with the dog when Dad had said an emphatic "NO!" 
Mum just said, "We are getting her and that is that!" 

Dad was 92 when he died. Up until the day he collapsed he was shopping for other people who couldn't get out themselves. Mum died four years later.


----------



## Foxhunter

* In the U.K. Show jumping os mainly run by the British Show Jumping Association. Riders and horses have to be registered with them to compete. Any prize money is noted and after they have won X amount the horse goes up a grade. With ponies there was only two grades, JC and JA (then a pony became JA when it had won £75 (I think) 

We had, at one time seven ponies in the JA register which, considering they all worked in the riding school, made it exceptional. They were all versatile, they could carry a total novice or, jump to a good standard, show or play gymkhana games and go Fox Hunting in the winter.

None were nappy or barn sour, they might arrive that way but they soon learned differently. 

One of the Private School pupils, Sarah, lived locally and she had a 12.2 pony Amber, which she would take home on a Saturday and return Sunday. 
Amber was a mean pony, wouldn't give an inch more than she had to, part Exmoor she was as tough as old boots. I got a call from Sarah's sister to say that Sarah hadn't been able to take Amber home or out on a rode because she wouldn't go. 
At lunchtime on the Monday I saddled her up and rode her down to the village. She was fine with that but when I went to go further she started to perform. 
I was way to tall for the brat, my feet were down below her knees but it never stopped her trying every trick she knew. I managed to get her forward for a hundred yards then she would try again. 
I took her down towards the beach and riding past a building site the workers were yelling all sorts of rude things about me riding such a small pony. Then one of the men realised it was the same pony as the child had been riding and been bucked off more than once, so the crows changed to 'Give her one from me!' 

When she was going forward without trying things on I returned home. It took a couple of weeks but she got the plan eventually and Sarah could ride her on her own.


----------



## Foxhunter

* We had a horse come in as a working livery. His owner was a young girl that had very little experience and the horse, 4 years old, was a heavy set animal and way to big for the inexperienced child. 

The horse was called Sergeant Murphy, after a Grand National winner. Well if he started the race a year before he would still never win! 

He was so lazy it was a real effort to get him to move, he didn't care if all the other horses disappeared he would be quite happy to walk slowly after them. 

There was a woman who would come to rode every other week. She was a hairdresser based in London. She had several salons. She would stay with the same people every other weekend and rode with the beginners on a Saturday morning. 

Every time she rode she would regale as to how she had had a wonderful fast ride in town and she only wanted to walk so she could admire the view. She loved riding Murphy and we all knew she had only plodded wherever it was she rode in town. 

This particular Saturday she arrived, she looked the part with her breeches, boots and hacking jacket, only this week she wasn't wearing her hat. Her hair was piled high on her head with several silk flowers interwoven and a thick several hairnets over the top to keep it in place. The daughter of the people she stayed with was getting married and she had had her hair done for the wedding. She wanted to ride without her hat as it wouldn't fit. Miss Fleming agreed she could. 

We went up onto the Downs, Miss Fleming with a lead rein and me with another. It was just a walk/trot ride. 

We came down through the nearest field to the stables. It was steeping with several ant hills in it at the top. I had dismounted to open the wire gate at the top so Miss Fleming was in the front whilst I brought up the rear. 

We walked down the first part of the hill to where there had once been a hedge. This had long been allowed to grow into thorn trees, once past it the track swung right and then left. 
Coming down the top part of the hill she took a different track to me and Murphy was soon lagging well behind despite my telling her to hustle him along. 

I was past the old hedge and about to swing right when I heard some yelling and shrieking, Murphy hadndecided to catch up - fast, well, fast for him amd was trotting to catch up. Whether it was the shrieking or momentum that got him cantering but as soon as he was the yelling got louder. 
The rode stopped and we watched in awe as Murphy, keeping a straight line went straight through the thorn trees, the woman hanging on for dear life.

Miss Fleming looked back at me and I knew she was doing her best to not laugh. 

Murphy stopped at the bottom of the hill with his rider still in the saddle. Miss Fleming sent me back to gather up the hairnets, false pieces and flowers. One of the better novice riders came with me and as I picked it all up from the ground and the trees, we were both crying with laughter, the girl was quite a mimic and had the shrieks off pat. 

I did feel sorry for the woman as she had obviously spent hours having her hair done and had already said she had sat up in bed all night so as not to spoil it. 
That was the only time Sergeant Murphy ever expended any energy voluntarily!


----------



## Foxhunter

* Sumer time and the stables were busy. The weather was hot. There were nine ponies to come in from the furthest field. I caught the bus and expected to see friends already on there but they weren't. 
I walked up and caught the animals and they wandered down towards the gate. The bus from the other direction came along but didn't stop so I was on my own. 

All nine ponies were needed for the first ride and I wasn't sure what to do. Me being me decided to bring in all nine together. I went across the road to the car park where the hay was stored in the winter and found some bailer twine to lengthen the lead ropes. I took four ponies out the gate and tied them to the fence across the road amd mounted Simon with the other four, in the field. Rode across the road and untied the other four. 

The ponies were well use to being led from other horses but, this was a diverse group. Misty, Blaze amd Pixie would pull. Tommy and Molly were experts at trotting along and then stopping dead so you dropped them and they would start eating from the banks alongside the road. 

I was organised. I had the pullers behind and the stoppers in the front. Simon, also a stopper was best ridden but, he would, if you weren't careful, try to bite theose alongside him so I would rode him with my feet forward so I could use my toe to stop him taking a bite of the pony next to him. 

All went well. I set out at a trot, easier for them all to keep at the same pace rather than the walk. I rode the full distance to the track across the field without any problem. Unfortunately the gate across the track was closed and the dairy cows grazing in the field. 
I opened and closed the gate mounted. With little problem except that I ended up with Molly and Tommy behind and Pixie and Misty on my right at the front. I reorganised the ropes and set off along the track. 

I hadn't gone ten yards before Pixie rode me off the track onto the grass. We were trotting Tommy stopped dead and I had the rope pulled through my hand, the Molly joined him. 
I was being ridden off across the field at a faster trot then a canter. I threw Pixie's rope over his neck rather than go any further across the field into the fence around the woods. 
Nine, eight, seven six, five, four, three, two all galloping as a herd some of the cows joined in the stampede and raced along around us. 
The gate into the stables was closed but luck had it that there was a young girl just going through. I screamed out, "Open the gate!" 

She shoved the gate open as hard as she could, it opened wide and then hit the post used to hold it open when the cows weren't in there, and started to close again. 

Simon was at the back of the herd hampered by a rider pulling hard on the top of his halter as well as the reins. The ponies all went through but the gate was closing as I reached it. My right leg hit the post and my left the gate and I was dragged off backwards landing hard on my back across which was my bag with my lunch in it. 

The ponies just charged into the pony shed where they were tied during the day, none going to their correct places. 

It didn't take much to sort them out, took a lot longer for my shins to revert to normal!


----------



## Foxhunter

* Many of the Private School girls were based abroad. Some were able to go to their parents for the holidays but many, those from the Far East in particular, stayed at the school for all but the summer holidays. 

The older ones on returning from holidays would come for their ride in the afternoon laden with bottles of drink and cigarettes. I would take them and sell them for a small cut of the profit! It seemed that customs never went through their trunks and cases as a schoolgirl returning on her own was never going to be a smuggler! 

At the start of one September term a new girl arrived. She was a junior being about ten. She had told Miss Fleming that she had her own ponies and was very experienced. 
As she was new she was to ride Molly. I pointed out her pony and she turned and looked at me and said, "You are the groom, I expect you to bring her out for me." 

I couldn't believe my ears and asked her what she had just said so, in a cocky voice speaking slowly and enunciating each word slowly, repeated herself. My reaction was to tell her to get her own pony out. She stomped off amd in a loud voice told Miss Fleming that the groom had refused to bring out her pony. 

Miss Fleming was shocked at the brats attitude and told her to get her own pony out. 
The girl stomped off to lean against the arena fence, her face screwed up in temper. Most of the other girls were giggling and from their attitude it was easy to see that she wasn't popular. 

Miss Fleming took the seven out and the girl stayed behind, screaming that they had no right to leave her behind. 

I think it was her third ride that she got her pony out and actually rode. She did ride well but didn't last long at the school.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I hunted as much as finances allowed which was not often. We had to pay for pony hire, the Hunt Cap amd transport. Unlike gymkhana there was no way to recuperate any cash. 
Once I was working full time I was soon given the chance to hunt every other Saturday accompanying the girls from the school. I loved it and learned as much as I could about hounds working, the calls and where a fox was most likely to run.

One Hunt we had a good run before hounds checked or killed, I don't remember which, we were sat on our horses on the edge of so,e woods, in a ploughed field. One pony, hot and sweaty got down to roll. Then another and another. They were going down thick and fast. I was laughing when myself Horse decided to join in and her knees buckled and down she went. Serves me right for mocking others!

There was an older woman, Lady Gunstan, that hunted occasionally. She suffered from arthritis and found sidesaddle less wearing on her hips. She had always hunted quality horses but turned up at one Meet riding a very nice dun 14.2 pony. They were a picture to watch, she might well have been ancient but she was still game. Then we came to a big ditch which Lady G didn't want to jump so I got on the pony and popped it over whilst she walked over a bridge. That was the first time I had ever sat on a sidesaddle.



I knew that I was no longer looked on as a Pony Club hunter when one of the members told a naughty joke in my hearing!


----------



## Foxhunter

* Animals always played a large part in my childhood. Mummy had a tabby cat, my maternal grandmother gave me a ginger and white kitten for my third birthday, soon named Kitty. We had a yellow Labrador, Lassie, that I grew up with and an assortment of rabbits, tortoises and other small pets. 

We children played in the streets, very few cars around then and in the area only one family owned a vehicle, a motorbike and side car. The fire station was around the corner and when the siren went off tomcall the volunteers to a shout, we would all run around to watch the engine go out. 

Our family dogs were with us when we went on the Downs or out the Landslip. The older children looked after the younger ones and if you hurt yourself a bit of spit on a handkerchief wiped away any blood and you learned not to cry because you had to be taken home and during that walk you would be berated for being a baby. 

We played Tarzan swinging from vines we slung up or any rope we could glean. I look at the trees we used and wonder why we never killed ourselves. I do own to actually climbing up an ancient oak tree that had been a favourite as a child, last year. From the moss growing on it I doubt anyone had clambered up it for years. 

The houses along one side of the street were all Coastguard housing and the one next door to parents hous had two boys living there, John and Brian. 

For my birthday a family friend bought me a dress, it was blue with a rope pattern in cream. I hated it. I was wearing it one day and sat on top of our gate. I jumped down and the hem caught on the gate and it tore. Unfortunately for me, Mum was handy with a needle and repaired it. I was then sat on the garden wall and jumped down to play with Brian and John and again got it caught on a stone so it again tore but the hem area held and I was suspended whilst Brian and John threw tomatoes at me! Their father lifted me down. 

Once again the dress was repaired. 

One of the Coastguards helped Brian and I make a go cart, two pram wheels at the front and bike wheels at the back. The man went away on holiday and abrian and I finished it off. 
We went for a test drive down the hill. Brian was driving, he was a male so thought it his right, amd older than me. I pushed off amd jumped in the back. We were soon racing down the hill. Brian called at me to brake so I did and the brake came off in my hand. (The part we had finished on our own!) 
Knowing we would not make the corner I had the foresight to hold the hem of my dress over the wheel. It did slow us a tad but we weren't going to make the corner. The skirt caught in the wheel and ripped away from the bodice. 
The go cart went straight along the path to a Coastguard dor, hit it hard enough to burst it open and we went along the hall taking the wallpaper off one side and the paint of the staircase off the other before hitting the wall at the end. 

We were in trouble for that one and when I took the oily torn skirt back to my mother still wearing the bodice and my knickers, I was in further trouble. Thankfully she never even attempted to repair it. I think I had owned it for about three weeks.


----------



## Foxhunter

*I have always been fairly level headed and even tempered. What does make my blood boil is outright cruelty and bullying. In bad instances I really do see red, a mist forms over my eyes and I see things in a different colour. 

The first time this happened I was about six. I had taken Lassie and Judy, a dog belonging to a neighbour, Aunty Eve. I was walking home when I saw a much older boy, Paul, dragging his Cocker Spaniel alongside him and then bringing his heel up to kick the dog in the jaw. The dog was cowering and bleeding from its mouth. 
I was across the road, jumped on Paul and brought him to the ground. He just wasn't expecting it. I had a hold of him by his ears and was smashing his head on the pavement. 
Mr Farley, whose shop we were outside of, came out and dragged me off Paul, I bit his hand and as Paul was getting up I kicked him in the head. He got up and was crying and ran home. Lassie, bless her. Took a good nip at his leg. Mr Farly let me go and I too ran home crying. Mummy couldn't understand who had bitten who and went to speak to Mr Farley, dragging me along to apologise for biting him. He told Mum he was about to stop Paul when I appeared and started beating him up. 
We then marched to where Paul lived and Mummy spoke to Paul's mother. That didn't go down well and Mummy said they either rehomed the dog or she would have Paul on a cruelty charge. 

The dog was adopted by Mr Farley two days later. It had a broken jaw. 

The mist was an odd thing. People could tease me, make me angry, but I would never fight them or retaliate. I learned from an early age that keeping your cool made them a lot more wild and that for me was me winning. The times it happened was alway to do with animals or bullying. 

A local girl was dying of leukaemia, not a lot they could do back then. She was fat from steroids they were giving her and when three boys started mocking her and telling her she was going to die, down came the mist. I took on all three amd gave them a thorough bashing. I didn't fight with hair pulling biting and scratching like most girls, I fought with short sharp punches to vulnerable spots and if I was standing and they were down, I kicked. They were bloodied and one had a broken nose, all were crying. Parents when told what had happened bloodied them even more. 

I really didn't care if it was another child older than me, I just went for it.

A teacher at school that I really disliked once shut a boy in the classroom book cupboard. I don't know what had happened to this lad but he was severely claustrophobic. I surmise now that he was abused as he came to live with an aunt and never saw his parents.
Anyway she locked him in the cupboard and he screamed and cried but she wouldn't let him out. At the end of the lesson she did and he was sat on the floor curled up hyperventilating, he had messed himself. 

I turned to the teacher and said "you had better watch out because I will get you back for this."

Everyone knew what she had done, I don't know if she got into trouble for it or not but she was still teaching, 

Over a few weeks I stolemevery key to every cupboard in the school amd not long after had the chance to lock her in the same cupboard. It was the last lesson of the day and as the classroom was on a centre floor both pupils and teachers passed that room and must have heard her screaming and banging. 

Mr Cross, the caretaker let her out at around 11 that night. He said that he had cleaned one side of the school amd returned him to watch a soccer match and only heard her when he returned. 

In assembly the next morning I fully expected the headmaster to ask who had locked her in the cupboard and I would have stood and said I had done it. I knew that the pupils would cheer and probably most of the teachers too but not a word was said. I returned the keys to Mr Cross that day. He just winked and said he found them!


----------



## Foxhunter

* From an early age I was always brought up to accept the facts about life and death. When Tibby, Mummy's cat had to be put to sleep when I was about four, it was explained to me that he was old and sick and it was the kindest thing to do. 
I had a rabbit, she jumped out my arms and hit her head on her hutch and was knocked out for a few seconds. She could only hop around in circles afterwards even after some time. Mummy said that Dad would kill her as it wasn't fair to keep her alive. I cried when I wasn't allowed to watch.

Neighbours had a GSD that had to have an eye removed. They were worried that being blind on one side, that if a child ran up to her she might snap at them so asked if I would go play with her. I loved that dog, Tina, and she became 'mine' preferring to be with me than her owners. I set about training her to do all sorts of tricks including tracking. Her party piece was that I could line up a tube of sweets and saying this one is mum's and every other name with a few Tina's then telling her she could have hers and she would only take the ones I had named as hers. 

The neighbours moved to work at the local mental hospital and had a house in the grounds. Tina hated it there, she wasn't good with many of the patients that worked in the grounds so the owners asked my parents if I could have her. 
I went over to collect her and on seeing me she was so excited. I would call her and she would jump up at me, paws over my shoulders amd I would catch her, hands linked under her butt. She ran and jumped and helped and bit me on the shoulder. 

I was so upset as this just wasn't her. She had turned and snapped at both her owners previously. 
Jim was going to take her straight to the vet to be put to sleep so, before he could get his car out, I ran away with her. 
We slept the night in a hay barn and early morning I walked with her to the vets. 
The vet had her up on the table and prodded and poked. When he was pushing intomher abdomen she screamed and snapped the air. He could feel a large growth inside and thought it was a cancer. 
I asked him if he could operate but he thought it was to big and even if he did remove it, it might have already spread.

I held her whilst she was PTS. I had no money to pay and no means to get her home. The vet knew me from the stables and as it was still before surgery opened, offered to drive me back to the hospital. He wrapped Tina in a blanket and put her in the back of his car. 

Uncle Jim amd Aunty Alice were frantic with worry. They thought I would have taken her back home but found I hadn't! The relief on seeing me was so great I never got into trouble from them. Jim amd I buried Tina under a tree in the garden. 

The lessons I learned from this was first, never hang onto a pet for selfish reasons and never try and dig a grave under a tree - far to many roots tomget through!


----------



## gottatrot

Foxhunter said:


> The lessons I learned from this was first, never hang onto a pet for selfish reasons and never try and dig a grave under a tree - far to many roots tomget through!


Both great philosophies.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Riding some of the nuttier ponies could be labelled as 'interesting' to put it mildly. 

We had a pony come in, a grey around 14 hands, he was a good jumping pony but very strong to rode especially in the open. So, I was told to ride him with a quieter ride on the beach. 

All went fairly well, I was sent first to canter from A to B amd, by swinging him left to right making him change legs, found I could maintain a reasonably slow pace. 
On the way back we had come under the pier and were just walking the last stretch before going up over the stones onto the road home. Next thing I knew he did a fly leap and took off with me in a full gallop. I wasn't going to let him go over the stones and up the slipway onto the road as it could be slippery and at that pace he would have gone down so, I hung onto the left rein and kept him on the stones. He had just set his neck and wasn't going to turn for anything. 

We went the length of the beach and we're heading onto the rocks so with both hands I hauled on the left rein and turned him into the sea. 

It stopped him dead and he stumbled nearly going down. I went for a swimming lesson that morning and the water was darn cold! 
I did get the making of this pony and could rode him more under control than most. When the shows started the owner asked if I would show jump him. 
As he had won a lot of money show jumping (with previous owners) I could only enter the Junior Open. He went well and did two clears leaving three of us in the timed jump off. 

He flew that course, the last fence was a triple bar and I just let him go. He stood back and as he leapt I heard a sort of thump. He cleared the fence and on landing he buckled and went down. The speed we were going the momentum carried us through the timer. My feet dragged on the ground. He then keeled over on his right side dead as a Dodo. 

I had beaten the two previous times and as neither his shoulder or quarters hit the ground until a few yards after the timer, he hadn't fallen but it was announced that I was eliminated. 

Margaret was furious and objected to no avail. She finally took the matter to the BSJA whereby they stated that I had been the winner. 

That was the first time I had ever had a horse die under me. It has happened a few times since unfortunately.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Three sisters who had been riding a few years, had a pony bought for them. Then they ended up with a pony each. All were superb ponies. 

The eldest gorl was nervous and never really did any good jumping. When she came out of ponies her parents called someone in Eire and a horse was sent over for her. 

Certainly not the way to buy a horse and this b,ack mare was never in a million years going to be a horse she could rode. 

The mare was big, around 16.1, and solidly built. I renamed her The Tank, because that is what she was like. She could spin on a sixpence and then take off fly leaping from whence she came. I loved her!

I was riding her whilst escorting some of the senior girls to the beach. We had to pass roadworks and when a man popped his head up from a hole that was it! She turned and took off and I heard one of the men say, "Blimey, she looks like a tank." So she was well renamed!

At mare could jump the moon, and she loved it. E only problem was with ditches which she hated. I don't know if something happened to her in Eire because it seemed more like a fear thing than just refusing. I spent hours just sat onnher facing a ditch until she would go over it of her own accord. Demanding something from her was out the door you had to ask and ask nicely. 

Eventually the girl's parents even realised that she was not the right horse for their daughters. I had great fun competing g on her and at one Hunter Trials we really clicked and won the Open. There were two big ditches to jump and she barely hesitated before ballooning over them nearly jumping me off. There was also an Irish Bank where you jump on and then off, she cleared it in one.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Across the other side of the Island a large property, the house in the shape of a castle, was bought by a woman who started a New Forest pony stud. She wanted to host a show and make it a rather grand affair. Margaret who was building the show jumping courses at the time, became very involved. 

I went with her to help build the courses and was invited to a 'little party' the owner was holding the night before the show. I asked what I should wear and was told "A summer frock will be fine." 

The Saturday afternoon all was set up for the show the following day. There were many classes that were different - like jousting events, tent pegging and a Fancy Dress class which hadn't been held in years. 

Margaret picked me up to go with her to the party. Both of us were neat and tidy, summer dresses and sandles. We arrived at the castle, time had been told between 7 and 8, we got there at 7.30. 

On entering the castle I just couldn't believe it. The entry hall was bigger than most homes, suits of armour decorated the place. Ere were many people already milling about, some were in 'frocks' some, mostly much older women were in long dresses and wearing tiaras, their husbands in black tie. There was no sign of the hostess and when she did arrive she had come straight from the stables apologised rushed to get changed and returned wearing black slacks, a black sweater and a string of black pearls. 

There were waiters handing out drinks and later, around 9 we were ushered into the dining room where a buffet was laid out. It looked like something out of a history book, the suckling pig on the centre of the table, whole chickens, ducks, turkey and guinea fowl dotted the table. Fish and salads filled the rest. 

There was a pile of plates at one end, to say a mish mash would be and understatement, some were bone china and others plastic, some were cracked and chipped but no one seemed to care, perhaps because of all the dink that had led up to the meal. 

At the other end of the table was the cutlery in big baskets, most of this was solid silver unfortunately I don't think it had been cleaned from the day it had been bought, it was green! Nevertheless the food was some of the best I have ever tasted and as far as I know no one was down with food poisoning the next day. 

It was an eye opener.


----------



## gottatrot

Foxhunter said:


> That was the first time I had ever had a horse die under me. It has happened a few times since unfortunately.


I saw the video of Hickstead going down with his ruptured aortic aneurysm. Do you think this could have been the case with the horse you were riding? Obviously there is no way to know the horse has a defect, they are perfectly healthy and fine until this ruptures and they die quickly. It would likely happen whether you exercised them or not. Apparently horses can also have sudden, fatal heart arrhythmias like humans can.


----------



## Foxhunter

* When horses have died with me usually the Hunt Kennels collect them and the Kennelman is usually as good as any vet in finding what was the cause of sudden death and mostly it is an aneurism. 

I have heard that 'thump' on three occasions, first with the pony, second with an army remount when I was taking exams and the third was with a 4 year old steeplechaser on the gallops. The first two were dead before they landed the third was odd. We were on the all weather gallops, had just been cantering - with racehorses this is a fast canter/slow gallop, when I heard e thump. The horse went sodways into the rails across the track hitting a bank and staggering. I had quit my stirrups ready to roll clear when he went down but he didn't. I was off him before he stopped and he was bleeding from both nostrils like I have never seen before. 

One of the other riders went back to the yard and sent the horsebox up to collect him and call the vet. I stood by the horse unable to do anything, so much blood that he was snorting over me trying to clear his nostrils. 
The horsebox arrived and by this time the bleeding had slowed. We got him home as the vet arrived a 15 minute trip from the gallops to home. 
One of the lads led him to the stable amd I went to shower and change. 
I knew the vet well and he was saying it was just a bad nose bleed. When I showed him my clothes and how bloody they were he changed his mind! 

That horse wasn't scoped at the time for fear of starting the bleed again. He was box rested and led out in hand formaround three weeks and then scoped. Nothing could be seen as to where that bleed started, so scar tissue at all. He came back into work amd never had anything like it again and won many races.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Mr Trumble was a Rotarian and every summer for about five years a family of fellow Rotarians from Holland came to camp at the stables. They were lovely people. The father was a vet and the eldest son was training to follow in his father's footsteps. 

The family had gone for a walk but the son stayed to do some study work. He was sat outside their camper working when two ponies had a kicking match. One, Richard, a three year old got caught on the femoral artery high up on the inside of his back leg. The blood was spurting out several inches. We brought him in whilst the son got his father's black bag and applied artery forceps. 

We called our vet and when he arrived he was furious that the forcepts had been applied. Although the pony was unbroken he was well handled and didn't move a muscle whilst he was being examined. The vet - who I detested, insisted that a twitch was applied and proceeded to put his twitch on overly tight. Pony immediately started to fidget and got very restless which infuriated the vet more.
Someone was holding a front foot up and I had the head and twitch. I slowly released the twitch and Richard stood as good as gold whilst stitches were applied. 

The vet returned about ten days later to remove the stitches. I have never seen such a palavour, he wanted to twitch him and if he moved then he would knock him out. (Back then it was chloroform ) to me the obvious way to remove the three stitches was from the opposite side but the vet was trying to do it from the same side which meant he had to have his head right under Richard's belly. As the pony ever grew to 12 hands it meant performing some contortions. 
One of the liveries was stood behind Richard, to the side, holding his tail whilst the vet puffed and planted and poked around. Richard suddenly lifted his head, hollowed his back and stretched out the back leg as they often do, Annette never moved away, he was just stretching not kicking though he was getting fed up with all the prodding and poking. 
That was it. The vet got in a right strop and shouted that the pony was dangerous and would never be suitable for a child. He grabbed his things and stomped off saying he would be back the next day to knock Richard out. 
He must have heard us laughing as he went to his car. 
I got a pair of nail scissors from the first aod box and kneeling on the floor, reached under and took the stitches out with no problem at all. I gave the vet a chance to get back to the surgery before calling and saying I had removed them. 

Not long after that I was riding on the beach with a lady pupil riding Bran a roan pony around 15 hands. Bran was a great animal, he hadn't a bad bone in his body and cared for all his riders but this day he wasn't 'right' at all. As we walked back off the beach he started to have mucous flood down both nostrils, he wasn't coughing or having breathing troubles but it wasn't right. I called the vet and when he arrived I had a very miserable pony that wasn't eating his hay, head hanging and nose running. I had felt that he was swollen in the glands at the back of his cheeks and asked if it might be strangles. I was given a very strong lecture on how wrong I was and that I could only diagnose if I had been to vet school. All that was wrong was he had a cold. 

A few days later we had several ponies with full blown strangles. 

One Welsh pony we had as a working livery, had been used as a stallion fpr three or four years. Although he had been gelded for quite a while he was very possessive over any mares. He was really badly effected with the strangles and the vet insosted he was stabled. Both Miss Fleming and I thought he was going to die. He was so sick. 
The vet had been and gone as usual, miserable as sin. Miss Fleming never said a word about the vet but told me to lead Brandy out to the Downs where the other infected animals were and to turn him out. As I neared the field so he was perking up and when turned loose he started to trot up the steep track looking for the other horses. By the time I got to the top he had sorted out the mares and had them sectioned off from the geldings and looking like nothing was wrong with him. He had certainly closed the door on wishing he was dead!


----------



## Foxhunter

* Escorting the school girls out hunting was great especially if it were the seniors. They were all very capable riders and it gave me the chance to ride alongside the Huntsman and learn more about the hounds. 

One such day it had been pretty dull. Not a lot of scent and more standing around than moving. Two of the senior girls were out, both riding their own horses and a couple of the middle school girls. 

We were stood by some woodland when one of the girls got out a sandwhich only to find that her hard boiled egg wasn't hard boiled and had broken in her pocket. We were all laughing at the slimed mess she pulled from her pocket and the other gorl were saying that she had obviously taken her egg from the wrong bowl in the school kitchen. Jo produced her egg and proceeded to crack it on the pommel of her saddle only to find hers wasn't boiled either. The two middle school girls had the sense to dismount and crack their eggs on the hanging stirrups - they had both taken from the correct bowl!

We always had Foxhound pups at the stables tomwalk for the Hunt. They would arrive when around twelve weeks old and leave when they were wandering to much anything from 8 - 12 months, usually nearer the 8 than the 12.

One year a couple arrived, Desmond and Debit. Unfortunately Debit broke her back and was PTS. The Earl of Yarborough, owner of the last private pack of Foxhounds sent a young dog pup from his pack, Viking. 

Viking was older than Desmond and was soon into all sorts of mischief. He was very good at raiding out bags for out sandwiches, chewing anything he could get his teeth into and wandering off. 

There were always people walking through the Landslip and he would follow them usually finding his way to the beach where one lick amd a child's ice cream would be devoured in one go. There were also plenty of unguarded picnics when people went into the sea. 
My father was working on the beach. He knew he was a Foxhound and knew there was no hunting at that time of the year and as the hound was being overly friendly to one and all, put a piece of string through his collar and brought him home at lunch time. 

Mummy was home and the hound was fine confined to the back yard and kitchen. He settled down just fine. Mummy had to go down the town and left Viking shut in the kitchen. She returned 30 minutes later to find the fridge door open and raided. He had also found the larder and raided that. There were tins scattered all over the floor along with bags of flour and sugar. 

I returned from school and got a great greeting from the pup - which was bigger than most dogs by this time. I had to take him back to the stables. It was around 4.30 and the buses would be full of day trippers returning to thei neighbouring towns so I went down to the bus station to get on there. 
People were queuing waiting for the buses, extra ones ran this time of the day, I waited in line being pulled in all directions by Viking. Eventually I was at the front of the queue only to be told that as the bus would be packed I couldn't get on with the dog. 

Eventually I was allowed to board. I had to go to the top deck where I sat at the front. This bus was different to most as instead of having a central aisle with seats either side, it had one long seat which five or six people could sit on instead of just two in the normal seats. 

Soon the bus was packed. Everyone squashed up and the conductor came to collect the fares. A man sitting next to me was very kind and held Viking whilst I got my money out. All was fairly good, I could keep Viking pinned down on the floor with my feet either side of him resting on the front of the bus. That was until we were going out of the town and a child two or three rows back opened a box of Maltesers, a round sweet covered in chocolate. That was it, Viking got the scent and was in full cry after the goodies. He was determined and the man and I couldn't get him down from clambering over the seats and people to get the sweets. The girl dropped the box and the candy rolled to the back, Viking followed going under the seats. Unfortunately the bus then went down hill and so he made his way back to the front. He wasn't going to leave one uneaten!

The conductor stopped the bus and I was told to leave and take the dog with me. I didn't get a refund. 

Afternoon that it became a regular thing to have him at home - daddy having brought him up from the beach. I always had a choke chain on him after the first return and could control him with that. (Sort of!) 

Later we had gone for an early morning ride on the beach amd were trotting up the town returning. A delivery truck was dropping meat off at a butchers on the corner when, as we approached, there was yelling and shouting. Viking and Desmond had gone into the truck and had pulled half a side of beef out and were dragging it up the street. 
Pam, riding with us, saw her father, also a butcher, laughing at his shop door when one of the delivery men called out, "****, I don't know what you are laughing about - that's your beef!" 

The van from the Hunt collected both pups later that day.


----------



## Maistjarna

What hapens to the dogs?


----------



## Foxhunter

They go back to the Hunt Kennels and become part of what is called 'the new entry’ young hounds that learn what they are allowed to hunt and start their first season when they are just over a year old. 

Bet you thought they were going to be lynched from the nearest tree! lol


----------



## Foxhunter

* It was springtime and the first show. Annette, who had her own pony, Enterprise, was washing his very messy tail. He hadn't wintered as well as he should have and to help him gain weight had been turned out in a rested field and the grass had made his poop very loose and very green. 
Annette had used way to much shampoo on the tail and there was a mass of green bubbles. As I walked past so I flicked some all over her. 

Miss Fleming had gone home and Mr Trumble was in a bad mood. He had gone to the farm to pick up some straw in the Bedford van and backed into a gatepost. The gatepost won the battle and had really dented both back doors. 

We always put the reins back up through the throatlash and when I saw a pair hanging down I flicked them to go up over the bridle, the buckle caught the fluorescent tube and that exploded. 
That was it for Mr Trumble he said that he was going home and gathered up some papers.
I started to go out the tackroom, I noticed one girl sat on the mounting block amd scratch her head as I started to walk out. I remembered something I had to give to Mr Trumble and stopped to get it. He walked out the tackroom ahead of r amd as he did so a bucket of green bubbly wanted was thrown over him. Annette was on the roof and waiting for me to come out - Mandy signaled her but it was Mr Trumble instead. 
I was roaring with laughter whilst all he said was, "That's it, I am going home and going to bed before anything else happens!" 

. ..................................................................

Mr Tumble's eldest daughter was married and in Germany. Her eldest son, Ross, was at boarding school and at the end of the Christmas holiday, returned to the UK to spend a few days with his grandparents. It was the Hunt Ball so I was asked to babysit Ross, who was about 10 at the time. I was to stay the night as they would be very late back. 

Mr and Mrs Trumble had a bedroom on the ground floor. I sent Ross to go clean hos teeth and off to bed. He was gone for quite a while and when I looked for him he was in his grandparent's bedroom. I thought nothing of it. 
I was well asleep when I was awoken by Mr Trumble roaring, "I'll kill him!" Then Mrs T saying, "Alec, calm down." A few mutterings and that was it. This was about 3 a.m.

In the morning Mrs Trumble told me that they had come in and gone to bed. The alarm went off and he got up to make their cup of tea. On bringing the tray to the bedroom he remarked that it felt like he had only had an hours sleep. He had looked at his watch and found that, in fact, he had only had thirty minutes! Ross had fiddled with their alarm clock and had set the alarm to go off at three! 

He was not a happy camper.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Very few people had their own transport to get horses to shows, a few had trailers but most used local cattle transporters. We used a man, Ken Jenkins, who owned a fleet of lorries. He would come collect the animals in early classes and then go off perhaps picking up other people's horses and return to collect more. 
All the animals loaded easily. They would travel side by side, three or four together and then a partition. 

One show day Ken arrived and we started to load. Yvonne went to load her pony Sovereign. He got to the top of the ramp and then spun around knocking Yvonne over and galloped across the yard. Whilst Sovereingn was being caught I told Michele, her sister to load her pony, Jester. He did exactly the same thing. 
Something was wrong. Two ponies that normally went up the ramp and in on their own, behaving badly. I thought that perhaps pigs had been in the lorry but Ken said not. What he had carried was a lion to the local zoo. 
None of the horses would ever have seen a lion but instinct told them danger. Gallons of strong smelling disinfectant later, they loaded happily.

One laugh I had was at a show going home. Another transporter was having trouble loading a pony. This pony was about 12 hands and determined he was not going on board. 
Everyone helped each other and so Ken had two of his lorries placed either side and they took a tall partition out of one and two men holding the partition a third climbed up on it and leaned over to use a pig prodded on the pony's quarters. 
The pony never went forward but double barrelled the portion flattening it nocking the two men holding it over and then the pony proceeded to run backwards over it flattening the men even more.

Pony revenge!


----------



## Foxhunter

* We worked darn hard as children at the stables. Our 'reward' was to have a free ride at the end of the summer holidays tacked on to an hour's ride we paid for. I was one who did get extra rides for free on the remedial ponies that came in. 

We worked hard, there was always something to do though we always had time between rides to go off into the woods to climb trees or, go scrumping down the village when the fruits were ripe. 

Margaret became engaged to be married to a client, Guy. She wed when I was just about sixteen amd left to live on the mainland. A variety of different girls came to work but none lasted very long. More and more of the teaching was left to me. Miss Fleming was not well though she never said as much and Mr Trumble was suffering more and more with arthritis especially in his back. 

The British Horse Society have teaching qualifications and to teach the private school you we're mean to to be qualified so I went off to take the exam. 
I was only sixteen and lied about the year I was born on the form. Had Mother sign it without her really reading it. I booked to take it at a place near where Margaret and Guy were living and for me to have four days 'tuition' at the school before the exam day. 

I didn't think a lot about the horses and ponies at the place. They all looked well but seemed very sour of the work they were doing. The rides were boring formus so as the horses were doing several a day, what could be expected of them? 

There were eight of us taking the exam, we were divided into two groups and it went something like, an hour's lesson for one group whilst the other had a lecture, then in the afternoon practical work for one whilst the other took it in turns to teach the rest of their group. 

Here were some very nice horses there, most being liveries. I was nosing around one lunch time and found a horse with his rugs askew and empty water buckets. I went in and took his buckets to fill, then straightened his rug. This horse was grumpy and made a couple of nasty faces but took being told to behave and a hand pushing his head around and stood still. 
As I came out the stable after giving the horse a scratch on his neck, the head girl saw me and told me tha the horse was a killer. That he kicked and bit and no one but her could handle him. I told her that I had watered him and straightened his rugs and he was fine. He hadn't bitten me and ha not threatened to kick. 

That was it - from that moment on that woman gave me the worse horses to ride, took great delight in pulling me to pieces and was absolutely positive to let me know I would fail the exam. 

Come the exam day it was thick, thick fog, you couldn't really see 20 feet in front of you. The examiners were all late having been held up by the weather and a serious multicar pile up. 

I was to ride a grey Cob type, I hadn't ridden him before but on rides no one had ever got him to do more than one stride of canter. 
We were riding in the outdoor arena and I took advantage of the head girl standing by the gate and at the far end of the arena cracked the Cob a few times and got him cantering and kept him cantering. It wasn't elegant by any means but, he was cantering! 

I was screamed at to just walk him or I would tire him out. Others were cantering so it was her disliking me. 

The actual exam seemed farcical to me. There were to many of us and when it came to the practical part horses were tied around the indoor arena and we had to do things like bandagin, tack fitting, grooming etc. I was sat in the gallery filling in a chart with parts of the horse, there were two others there also. There was a clap of thunder which seemed to be in the arena it was so loud. A couple of horses pulled back amd others followed suit. I was quick to get to the door by the gallery and stood there waving my arms and flapping the clipboard so those making for the door circled away and stayed in the arena. Even then I had to yell for someone to close the door. 

In the afternoon we had to go jumping. The horse I was on was lame, not terribly lame but certainly off. I told the head girl and she said nothing was wrong with it. Two examiners agreed with me and so another horse was brought out. The girl leading it to me warned me that it was a devil for stopping in the last stride and wouldn't jump the ditches or water on the cross country course. 
It did one dirty stop show jumping and got a hard fast one two three. Never stopped again. 

I passed with 96% and forever thought that the qualification wasn't worth the paper it was written on.


----------



## seabiscuit91

If you ever write a book, I want a copy.
I am loving reading all these stories, you write so well and it's fascinating to me!

Please don't stop!


----------



## Foxhunter

* From a young child I was always fascinated by 'old' people and their lives. Mr Trumble was a very interesting man to talk to. He had fought in WW1 and then had been in the Police in Nigeria, then a part of the British Commonwealth. 

He used rational thinking to save his life - or so he said! 

After WW2 people had to take a driving test in Nigeria and the Police were the examiners. He told me that the natives could and did take any abandoned vehicle left behind but the British and American forces and could get them running in no time. Sitting in with these people was exceedingly risky as often there were no brakes and parts held together with bits of string or wire. So, after a few near misses for him and his colleagues he had prisoners with hard labour sentences for their crimes dig a maze at the back of the police station. The trenches were about 4' deep amd the same wide. When someone turned up to take their driving test they were told to reverse around the maze, of they did it they got their license if they didn't there were no more tests until the vehicle had been removed from the trench! 

He also told me that he and his wife were sat on the veranda of their house early one morning having tea when Jilly, their eldest daughter, went toddling down the path having seen a stray dog. They hadn't realised she had got herself up and hadn't seen her until she was calling to the dog. 
One look at the dog and they knew it was rabid. He drew his service pistol and hesitated to shoot fearing he might hit Jilly. Hos wife said, "Shoot Alec, better a bullet than rabies." 
He shot and fortunately hit the dog not Jilly. He said it was one of the worse moments of his life as service revolvers were not the most accurate.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The set up at the stables wasn't the greatest. To get to the feed room you had to go through a stable which, during the day, was converted into to two tie stalls. 
Feed was always in metal bins and the hay was also stored in the same place and the toilet was also in there. 

One year we were plagued with rats. There were so many that in the morning when you went to feed often rats were trapped in the metal feed buckets which were stacked on top of each other. Some were dented from the ponies knocking them about so the rats got in but couldn't get out. 

When there was little hay left and a delivery the next day I decided to go on a rat hunt. I cleared out all I could from shelves, shut the window, closed the door out of the loose box and pulled the feed bins away from the walls. I had three terriers with me, one only a pup. Several rats were killed as I cleared. In the end there was just the planks of wood that the hay stood on and about five bales of hay. 
I am not kidding when I say that the bales were heaving as the rats tried to get under them. 

I had it all organised. The moved feed bins formed a barrier so when I moved the last hay bales tenrats would run into the stable and I could shut the door and leave the dogs to do their work. 

Miss Fleming came on to use the loo and when she came out she picked up an old axe handle and poked about in the planks, a big male rat ran into the corner and ran up the wall, turned as it jumped down at her shoulder height. She swung the handle and smacked that rat so hard it went back against the wall and slid down just like in a cartoon. Any baseball team would have hired her on the spot! 

One of the children brought me in a cup of tea and what I didn't realise was she had hooked the door back so as I pulled the last bale away and the rats ran and I went to slam the door i couldn't! The rats ran around the stable and back past me followed by the terriers. 

It was total havoc, the planks were lifted so rats were running up the walls, along the shelves and anywhere else they thought they could hide. 
I stood on the feed bins with a bloom handle knocking them down to the dogs. I also had a sledge hammer which I was slamming against any I could get. 

In the end all was quiet. The dogs were exhausted dead rats everywhere. I felt filthy with the dust and cobwebs but it was a job well done. We had killed over 100 rats. We were shovelling them into a wheelbarrow and taking them across a field into the hedge where the foxes and badgers would clear them up.

From that moment on I can honestly say that I love a good rat hunt with working terriers doing what they were bred for.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Miss Fleming and Mr Trumble were chalk and cheese in character. Both of them church going people, he a Catholic and she a Methodist and often he would tease her over this. 

Miss Fleming had many quirks and they drove him wild. If they were ever in the van together we all wanted to travel with them as the dialogue would be amusing. 
"Alec, you are going to fast, there is a 30 limit through here." 
"No there is t Rene." As he put his foot down harder. 
"Well. There jolly well should be." 

Much to her disgrace she received a speeding ticket, she had been going 34 mph in a 30 zone. Oh boy, did he tease her over that. Then a few weeks later he received a speeding ticket for 41 mph in a 30 zone. His retort to that was that at least his was worth getting! 

Him driving was frightening as we all knew he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. I once had the most terrifying journey of my life with him but that comes later.

...........................................

Miss Fleming had her hut, a small chalet in the corner of one of the fields. It was her sanctuary and every morning, once the horses were brushed and fed she would disappear down there. There wasn't a lot of room for anything much. She had a large chest of drawers, a small table and her bed from which she wrote most of the accounts. 

Ever frugal, she would get two lines of scrawny writing to one ruled line. All the bookings were in a hardback writing pad, the horses names written on either side and then the date written on each page. Any booking was written in pencil. Winter months the date was on each individual page except Saturday where it was double paged as it was in the summer when there were a lot of tourists. 
There was a code written by each booking, LR - lead rein, for a child, NR - never ridden, HS - has ridden, CR - can ride, often this was followed by TT meaning they think! 
All of the animals were used for beginners and better riders. The 'hot' ponies were used for lead reins and the competition ponies usually for novices as these would only be walking or slow trotting and with a loose rein, these riders did little harm whereas a semi rider might haul them around. 

Miss Fleming treated every client as if they were going to ride every week. It was quite amusing. At the top of the path leading to the Downs was a gate and with a bunch of tourists a member of staff would open the gate mounted and hold it open. The horses would traipse through and stop in a clearing between the gorse bushes. 
Miss Fleming, always at the back of the ride, would ask how many thank you's you had got. Thinking there were fifteen riders I would say "Fifteen." Unfortunately I often got this wrong as there were eighteen riders. At the clearing they would all receive a lecture on how one day they might be out following hounds and if they didn't thank the gate opener they might just get it slammed in their face. 

I was always embarrassed by this but it worked, next gate all riders would thank whoever opened it!


----------



## Foxhunter

* When the weight carrying horses went missing it was difficult to mount all the previously booked clients. 

One man had booked for two hours but this had to be altered to two one hour rides. Horses used only for staff were used for replacements for the missing horses. 
We had a lot of people booked in one morning, all tourists apart from two of the Private School girls who wanted to rode in the holidays. By the time we had shuffled clients and horses there was only one horse for Moss Fleming to rode and I would ride a young mare I had just broken. 

At the top of the Downs the rode was divided into two, those that could rode would go for a canter to the right and Miss Fleming would go on with the novices and we would catch them up. 

Mr Trumble had chatted with the two hour man and had said he was experienced and could rode Faro. The man had ridden but, was no way capable of riding Faro I was to discover! 

We went off to the right and walked down a short slope and then one at a time I sent each rider to canter along a stretch of open grass. I sent Melody, one of the school girls first as she knew where to stop. I learned her get several yards ahead and sent the man on Faro who immediately took off at a fair clip. The tighter the man held the reins the faster Faro went. Luckily the gate to the next stretch was closed and Faro stopped. 
We had to turn and go back the same way to catch up with the rest of the ride. I decided to send Faro first and once again they set off at a gallop. 
Stopping point was at the top of the slope but Faro, who had been along that stretch enough times to know every blade of grass, suddenly stopped dead at the bottom of the first slope, and stared at the sign post. The man went straight on and as I sent the others along so I could see him looking all around him. 
His shoe had come off and eventually was seen the other side of a double wire fence - ample brambles growing between the two lines of wire. 
It was pointed out to him the back of the heel having landed in a fresh cow pat and the toe sticking up in tha air. 
He had to clamber both fences collect his shoe and remount. 
Had I been a nicer person I could have directed him through the gates but I didn't, I was anger with him for hauling Faro around especially as I was competing on him! 
I refused to allow him to ride Faro the next ride so he was mounted on another horse that wasn't reactive. What was found was that he had tightened Faro's girth so tightly that the only way to loosen it off was for me to sit in the saddle and use two hands to pull the strap up enough to get the buckle tongue out of the holes. 
Even competing Faro I rode with the girth three holes looser.


----------



## Foxhunter

* You soon got to know which people were truthful over their riding abilities and those that weren't. I wasn't often fooled. 

It was Cowes Week a major international yachting regatta, when a sports car drove up with four people in it. The two in the back were sitting on the back of tha car as it was a tiny seat. They were all dressed in yachting clothes, the young men had white trousers white and navy striped tops and cravats. 
The girls were dressed much the same but in a more feline way and minus the cravats. 
They wanted a two hour ride for them and four other friends. They said they were all experienced riders, one of the girls said she hadn't ridden since she had had a nasty fall so was a bit nervous. 

I thought "I bet you are all experienced - not." Booked in for a two hour ride a couple of days later. 

Oh boy, was I so wrong! They all turned up in riding gear, shirt and tie, jods, jackets and long boots and riding hats. 

They didn't say anything about the horses as I had mounted them on the heavyweight horses and the girls on steady ponies. The nervous one I had on Bran as he was an absolute angel at looking after his rider. 
Two of the men asked as we were leaving the yard if they could put on their spurs and I agreed to it. The two horses they were on were dead sided and rather sour of carrying novices. 
Oh boy, what a ride that was! They stirred the horses up and had them going beautifully. We opened few gates, jumped hedges, ditches and gates. 

We returned after a good two hours, horses were hot and sweaty but had thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon. All of them untacked and washed the horses down, gave me a darn good tip amd went on their merry way.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I learned a lot from the big Irish mare bought sight unseen, for the eldest of the three sisters. 
_(I mentioned her earlier)_

Nicknamed The Tank, she was a ride an a half. Very unusually for an Irish bred and ridden horse, she had a great dislike of ditches - big time! 
In the woods we had a drop fence with a ditch, you could jump it up or down. I tried everything I could to get her over that fence. I had a lead from another horse, racing into it, spurs amd stick but to no avail. 
I decided that I was going to win and after show jumping her I took her to the higher side to drop down. She fought me all the way to get her to just stand facing the drop. I never got cross, I just represented every time she moved away. After a good hour, she walked forward, looked right down so I was on the buckle end of my reins and then jumped like it was twenty feet wide. A couple of times doing this and she was fine with me jumping her over any ditch.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Tank was something else! She was very stubborn and would almost look for a fight. She could take a real 'hold' when cantering and, when I used her as a staff horse, waiting for all to canter single file ahead of her annoyed her immensely and to start would bring about some fantastic fly leaps. 
Her owner, Yvonne, weighed about 100lbs soaking wet and was more and more terrified of riding her so, the pleasure was left to me. 

One day I was out on the beach with the middle school ride. I sent them cantering back along the sand to stop at a big sewer groin that ran parallel to the pier. I made Tank trot and she was learning that I said what I meant and meant what I said and was actually relaxing well. 
Confident we had come to an agreement I trotted her over a 2'6" breakwater, she ballooned over it, landed amd immediately did three fantastic fly leaps. 
The girls were walking the ponies up over the stones so rather than let her charge into them I hung onto my left rein and headed her to the concrete groin. 
Ha ha, totally wrong all she did was ***** her ears and go for it. All I could do was give her her head and sit tight. She cleared it but nearly fell on landing as the sand was much higher that side and it came as a shock but she found a fifth leg and stayed upright. 
I was shaking as it was a big concrete groin amd had she hit it we would have both been hurt. 
Luckily she pulled up and the girls all came over saying "Wow! That was a fantastic jump!" I was to shaken to reply for a moment or two. But then just agreed with them. After all, I was their instructor and couldn't tell them I needed a laundry change.

I went back and measured, the height was 5'6" amd the width 11' 

I never made the same mistake again.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I was at work when my sister came on her bicycle. She should have been at school but had been hit with a stick playing (field) hockey. She had a couple of stitches and the rest of the day off school. 
I missed the bus going home so she gave me a saddle up. We were sailing along down a hill when the cops came past in a car. I immediately put both feet down and pitched forward as they hit the ground. Whether I inadvertently snatched at little sos I don't know but she went sailing into the hedge. 
One of the cops yelled out "Now you know why you shouldn't ride double!" and they drove off. 

We let them get out of sight and then resumed our ride home. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Margaret had done all her training with a renowned woman rider. Viv, a tough lady to say the least. Red haired and a temper to match but, that woman sure could ride! She competed top lever show jumping, eventing and had, for a dare Point to Pointed riding sidesaddle. 

Margaret fascinated us with tales of her exploits so, when I had a chance to go there for a week I jumped at it. 

She was late in meeting me at the station and obviously in a bad mood. At her place two girls were walking down the drive luggging suitcases, they were leaving, there was another who was crying because she had been sat down brushing a horse's leg and it had trodden on her hand. There was no sympathy going in her direction except that her parents were called to come collect her. 

The next day several owners came to rode their horses and I was put up on a 14.1 dark bay pony. I didn't like this pony from the start, it had a mean eye and tried to bite or kick given half a chance. 

I was warned hat this pony was very strong and I wasn't to let it run away with me. 
We went off and into some wooded area. Viv was leading the ride, ere were six or seven of us, and soon we were cantering along a wide track through the wood. The pony was trying her best to hook off with me so I was swinging her from side to some so she couldn't get into a stride. 

There was a large tree in the centre of the path, the other riders had gone to the left so I decided to make this pony go to the right, I hate 'follow the leader' 
At the last moment I felt I had lost the battle and rather than hit the tree decide to let her go right. At the same time she thought she was going to have to go left. I ended up hitting the tree head on. I really felt that my hat was down to my chin. 
I was dazed and seeing stats. I leaned back against the tree spaced out. Soon the other riders came back amd trotted past the tree. They went to the starting point without finding me so turned back. When she saw me she was mad that I hadn't said anything! 
I remounted and had no more problems riding that pony. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<

_I will write more later, have to go out. _


----------



## Foxhunter

* Viv was renowned for her red hair and red temper which could flare up at any time - always with people never the horses. 
She was one of the very few at the time that was show jumping on a stallion, a home bred horse, Rhapsody. 
Soddy, as he was known had the reputation for being equally as hot as his owner but this was incorrect, he was a mellow horse with a lovely temperament but, during the summer, when he was covering mares Viv kept him mostly for speed classes. 
I accompanied her to a show and she had two horses in the jump off for amd open class. As she had jumped both early theynwerenput back in the horsebox and Viv took a snooze in a deckchair by the side of the arena. 

I wandered over to tell her there were only a few to jump when two renowned show jumpers told me to wake her in a hurry and tell,her she was to jump next. 
I might have been very young but I wasn't stupid knowing as well as they did what her temper would be like if I did their bidding. 

One offered me 10 shillings, still I refused. In the end I said,"i wouldn't do it if you gave me a pound each!" 
They immediately offered me a pound note each. I took them. 
I shook Viv by her shoulder saying "You are jumping next!" 
She jumped up and immediately fell flat on her face. They had tied string from her spurs to the back of the deckchair so it collapsed and she went down. 
I was waiting for the explosion but instead she just roared with laughter amd knew who the perpetrators were. Both men sat on their horses bellowing with laughter. Viv cussed them both and turned to me saying, "I hope they gave you something!" 
I told her I had charged them £1 each, to which she said she should have half! 

I enjoyed the evenings when, after supper, I could get Viv talking about her early days with the horses. Her father did a lot of dealing with horses and back before WW2 show jumping was not under any governing body. Viv competed on a full Hackney mare, Ynot amd as competitions became more organised she, barely in her teens was competing and beating adults. 

After the war there were many horses that had just been left as men were way and no one had time for them so she and her father had large intakes of unhandled horses that were often six or seven years old. 
Her father sent her to the railway station to pick up a horse he had taken on. When the train arrived the only horse was a big grey Shire mare. Obviously a bit long in the tooth. Viv rode her home wondering why her dad had got such a horse. 
Dolly, as she was called had worked in London all through the blitz often pulling large beams off bombed sites. Her owner wanted to retire her and Viv's father said he would take her. 
The mare had never known open fields and grass since she had been a youngster - over eighteen years and loved the freedom she had retired to. 
Retirement wasn't totally on the cards for Dolly thoug. Viv's father had her harnessed up and with wild horses in a stable Dolly was taken in with them and used as a barrier to hold them steady whilst whilst they were haltered. Thentheynwerentied to her collar and as Dolly knew three words, walk on, trot and whoa, all of which she obeyed implicitly, the youngsters had little choice but to do the same. Acting as a calming influence too, horses were much faster in coming around to being handled and obeying vocal commands. 

These youngsters would be tacked up and Viv would get onto Dolly then go across onto the youngster, of it got to fractious then she would just dive across onto Dolly's broad back. 
They were able to take on double the number of horses in for breaking because of Dolly. She told me that that old Shire mare was the only horse her father actually retired and she spent a couple of years just being a nanny in the fields to youngsters.


----------



## Foxhunter

* May of the ponies would 'hook off' with riders as in going from A to B as fast as they could! We never found it frightening as they stopped where they were meant to. Some ponies were more on he lazier side, others would test theor riders but all would immediately obey Miss Fleming's voice. 

One incident that happened was on a Saturday morning. The 11.30 ride, all novices not yet cantering. 

A brown gelding Beau, was toed to the post and railings, where he had tied many times before. The children were all mounted, those on a lead rein standing with the others, lead rein over the pony' neck writhing to be collected. Miss Fleming was leading her favouring mare, Vicky, to the mounting block when Beau, for no obvious reason pulled back. 
He didn't just sit back but went back hard and fast. He pulled three posts that had been concreted into the ground, loose and four rails with them. 

As he went back some of the ponies moved out the way and more moved as when he realised he was loose he charged through the middle of the ponies with post and rails attached, fortunately going into the arena. Miss Fleming issue the warning 'Stand stilll' and not one pony moved from where it was. It took a while to catch Beau as he galloped around and around, personally I secretly wished he would break his neck but, being the ungenerous and mean horse he was, he barely had a scratch on him once he was caught. 

After that Beau would not tie safely. There was only one place where he couldn't pull back because of a wall immediately behind him. 

One day old Mr Toms, the farrier was shoeing him. He was tied to a piece of bailer twine in the usual showing spot. I was across the aisle mucking out when all of a sudden Beau sat back knocking the old man to the side. My reaction was instant I lifted the prong and shoved it towards him he continued to come back and run into the prong. He had three puncture wounds. Two either side of his tail and another on the left. Oddly enough he shot forward faster than he had come back! 

It was two or three weeks later when an abscess appeared from one of the wounds. The vet was called and Mr Toms was there when he arrived. The vet diagnosed a warble fly. Old Mr Toms looked at me and winkied, to the vet he said, "Blasted warbles, they get everywhere!" 

Mr Toms was well into his eighties when he retired and his son took over. They always made all the shoes they used often down to a quarter inch measurement. 

He didn't like the vet anymore than I did and when the vet would say how to shoe a certain horse he always agreed to do so and then do it his way. Many people would say this was wrong and perhaps ot was but when a vet comments that a horse should have its feet cut back so far that it was sore when finished, what choice did he have? 

Very rarely was a horse or pony ever lame other than from a kick or injury in the field somthe farrier couldn't have been bad. 

He passed his knowledge on to his son Bob, and I do know that on more than one occasion Bob got shoes on horses that needed them where no one else could because their feet were so bad.


----------



## Foxhunter

Times were changing. More and more parents were buying ponies for their children. Both Mr Trumble and Miss Fleming were in failing health. Margaret was married and living on the mainland and talk was that they were going to sell the business. 

I had been doing most of the teaching and sorting the remedials, Jane, not interested in competing or teaching, was doing all the background work. 

Miss Fleming then told me that they had some people from the mainland interested in buying the business lock stock amd barrel. I really was t sure what to do. Nothing would be the same. I wanted more for my career but wasn't sure in which direction. 

The people came, two parents and a daughter a couple of years older than me. They looked at it all, ponies, horses, fields and the books and were very interested. Miss Fleming wanted me to stay and work for them - I was on very good money by this time, but there was something about these people I was t sure of. 

In the end they went and bought a small farm in the centre of the island and set up an equestrian centre there. They did this whilst still saying they were interested in the riding school. 

Not long after this was brought to light a family decided to buy it for their daughters, all of which had ridden there. They would get in a manager and he would run the place. That did it for me. I was off!

Margaret and her husband Guy, had bought a property and were building stables on the land, they offered for me to go work for them and so I jumped at the chance. 

I moved on my birthday, travelling there with Margaret's first pony Pixie, amd a young horse she had bought on the island. 

Life was changing.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Before I move on I will say about my younger sister, Sally. 

I hated it when she started riding, it was _my thin,_ not hers! We were opposites, as I was dark she was fair, I was out going and she was painfully shy. Unfortunately, for me she also fell in love with riding! 

She was allotted a pretty black pony, Cheval, to compete on for the season. This little mare was a paragon of virtue, moved very well and looked as if she was always on the bit. 

The Pony Club had realised that having dressage tests with more advanced movements, was not going to improve children's riding ability or make dressage more popular so they introduced dressage tests that were within the range of younger riders. 

A dressage event was held for twelve amd unders. Sally, on Cheval was one of the last to compete. The judge had been 'kind' with her marks, to encourage riders. Sally went in and did a very good test. Cheval had natural paces and so all Sally had to do was remember the test and ride accurately to the markers. 
Anyone watching knew she had won the competition, and when the score sheets were handed out her marks were over the top! 
Having marked leniently and given 8s and 9s to many riders, when Sally went in she had to mark her with 10s and in a couple of cases an 11 and a 12 so the pair ended up with a more than perfect score! 

Sally did well with jumping Cheval too. 



In the summer, I had taken a job in a cafe belonging to a friend of the family, in her cafe waiting tables. This was evenings and Sunday mornings to after the lunch rush. Then I could go to the stables to bring some of the horses in to the home fields, no riding on a Sunday. 

A friend of the owner, Jessie, was serving at the counter one Sunday. Sally came in off the beach to return a Coke bottle. There was a deposit charged on bottles back then. She put the bottle on the counter and went to walk out tpwhen Jess called out, "Little girl, come here." 
Sally turned and said she hadn't paid a deposit but Jess said she had something she wanted to tell her. She talked to Sally for a few moments and that was it. 

Later Sally asked me who the lady was and told me that she had been told that she was going to go in for a competition which she would win but there was a second part to the class and for that she wouldn't look as smart but she would win a great big cup. She was also told that she wouldn't be with her usual partner. 

We both thought it very odd and forgot about it.

Several weeks later it was a Piny Club show. Cheval was lame from a kick so Sally was to ride Simon in her classes. The first class she was entered in was a Riding Class for children 12 and under. She won. As her next class was jumping she unplaited Simon, took her hair out of braids, removed her jacket and put it in the back of the van. It was ten announced that Brigadeer Green had given a silver cup so it had quickly been decided that all riders in the riding classes, (four sections) that had been placed first or second, would ride off for the cup. 

This caused panic! Sally didn't want to go back in as Simon was no longer plaited and her jacket had ended up out the van and on the ground so was dirty. She was sent in and won the cup, a hideous thing that had originated in India. It was a great surprise as she was competing against 20 year old riders and she was only 10. 

When she came out a grinning from ear to ear, she suddenly stopped and said, "That is what that woman told me!" Jessie was a clairvoyant and would read not only cards but also anything you had drunk from and she has 'seen' this event in the Coke bottle. 

Sally came into her own when show jumping in the 14.2 and under classes. 

As I said earlier, more and more parents were buying ponies for their children and many spent a lot of money on good animals. 
One gorl whose parents were in Africa, had sent her to live with her grand parents to get a better education. They had bought her a 14.2 pony, a Hackney x TB, Mars. It didn't work out with the girl as she was so home sick she was ill so after a year she returned to Africa and Mars stayed at the stables. 

Mars was a terrific jumper but a shows he went to pieces and was a different animal. He never managed to complete a show jumping round. 

Sally wanted to rode him at a show and was entered in the 14.2 class. Mars had got into the habit of refusing to go into the arena. Sally allowed him to eat at the edge of the entry and slowly moved him into the ring whilst a rider was competing. She slowly gathered him up and walked towards the judges box. She started to canter and the bell went so she headed to the first fence. Mars got a couple of strides away from the jump and started to stop. Instead of getting strong with her legs and using her crop, she shoved her hands up his neck scratching his neck on either side and let him come back to his Hackney trot. He popped the fence with no problem and that is how they got a clear round, trotting into every fence. They went onto win in the timed jump off because she turned on a sixpence and took a couple of jumps from two strides of trot. 

They were a great combination and soon Mars was happy to canter around a course. At a major show on the mainland there were tow jump offs and the third round was BIG! 
They were competing against far more experienced riders and ponies and we thought they never stood a chance. However several had had fences down so Sally was going for a slower clear round. They cleared everything until coming into the treble, directly towards the collecting ring. Mars suddenly started to put on the brakes, Sally scratched his neck they came back to a trot and he popped through the combination as of it was only a foot high. On landing she did a very sharp turn into the last amd again took it from a trot, Mars bounced over it, ears pricked and legs tucked way up, they had beaten all the faster ponies and were clear. 

Sally clicked with Mars and they won a lot together when she was out of juniors he never jumped for anyone like he did for her.


----------



## Foxhunter

_I am sure that I will remember many other incidents that occurred whilst I was at the riding school, now I am retired I am meeting with friends I haven't seen for forty years and we often have a really good laugh over things that have happened in the past._


----------



## Foxhunter

* My rememberer has recalled some of the gymkhana games.

Vanja, a few years older than me, shared Taffy with me for the games. This was a pony that had a severe biting problem. He might not bite for months and then go through a spate of doing so. When he bit he would shake you like a Terrier with a rat. 

He had gone to bite me one day, fortunately he grabbed the sleeve of a sweater my mother had knitted and I was t meant to wear to the stables. I had a large handkerchief up the sleeve amd he locked on that tearing a big hole on the sleeve. 

I was so mad as I knew I was in big trouble wearing it for riding! I grabbed his ear and bit it hard in my back teeth, he squealed like a pig and spun around in a circle with me still hanging on. He never tried to bite me again, 

He was big for gymkhana games as there was always a lot of mounting and dismounting but he was good, he loved the games and always ran straight and never tried to bite. 

Now, I was brought up to be a good sport, however Daddy would always cheat playing simple card games to get them over with faster. He always cheated to win. This taught me how to loose and, as I realised what he was doing, to cheat better than him. Stood me in good stead. 

As money was tight for shows I found that I could win thirty two times the entry fee in a gymkhana game. Half a crown (1/8 of a pound) to enter each game and first prize was three pounds, second two amd third one. So, getting in the ribbons and paying my way ensured I could go to the next show. 

Straight forward races like Bending was easy as Taff would watch for the flag to go gown and be off, he would run tight to the poles and needed no encouragement. 
The potato race where you galloped up to the end, dismounted to pick up a spud, mounted and had to drop the spud in a bucket. Taff would gallop up, I would jump off half way pick up the spud and mount at the gallop. I would hang right over the saddle to drop it in the bucket. I realised that I was nearly touching the ground as I did so. I then never dismounted to pick up but did it from the saddle. 

I always tried to get an outside lane for races except for the Bun and Pop race. A stale currant bun was hanging from a string tied across the arena. You had to jump off, eat the bun without using your hands, mount up, got to the end, pick up a bottle of pop, drink that and then back to the start. 
For this I would grab the string in my teeth, slide down to the bun, keep pulling the string, the bun would fall on the floor, Taffy would eat it. I always mounted on the start side of the string and ride under it, catching it with my head or back making everyone's bun jump around. I could drink the pop at leisure or, pour it down Taffy's shoulder. I would rock the bun string when I rode back under it to get to the finish. 
Thread the needle was simple, have a threaded needle stuck in your jacket ready for the finish. 

The best one was what they called an obstacle race. We had to take our jackets, hats amd boots off. These were put in sacks. Ponies were held at the top of the arena unsaddled. 
We had to run to a sack, tip out the boots, find our own, then dittomwith the jackets and hats. Rip uncle to the pony saddle it, mount amd get to the finish. One lad had a brown hat which was easily seen in the melee. Most of us wore tweed jackets and a couple with black ones were far faster. 
So, when the same race was in the next show, I took an old hat the the Foxhound pups had chewed the velvet from. An old pair of Miss Fleming's jodhpur boots with elasticated sides, (most boots had straps back then) and an old tweed jacket. I painted the hat red, also the soles of the boots and mother sewed red velvet patches on the elbows and collar of the jacket. Easy to find and Vanja and I never lost amd obstacle race again. 

Musical Sacks were one of my favourite games, always held in the main arena, sacks in a big circle in the centre we had to canter around the outside. When the music stopped, jump off amd run for a sack. _I have never been able to run_ but it didn't matter because if two of us were making formthe same sack Taffy would lay hos ears right back making a horrid face at the other pony which would stop running and shy away. 

What funnthose games were. Now obsolete at most shows, people think their ponies are to precious to have fun with.


----------



## knightrider

I love your memories. Whenever I see a new one, I click on it right away. You had so many adventures!

When I was young, we played lots of those games too and had a lot of fun. One of my favorites, when I was a 4-H leader was the pants race. I bought an enormous pair of men's pants at a thrift store. The children had to race down to the pants, dismount, put them on, re-mount, and race back. Of course, as soon as the child tried to mount, the pants fell down. There was a lot of hopping and flopping about while the excited ponies pranced and danced . . . and lots of laughter.

Thank you ever so much for some wonderful stories!


----------



## Foxhunter

* There were many incidents taking the ponies to the fields where we were lucky to survive! 

When people say about riding with only a halter I always think that they are fine until something happens and then they will have no control at all. 

As I have previously said, many of the ponies were quite 'hot' and loved to charge off. Normally they were very good going and coming from the fields where we were always bareback in halters made from plaited bailer twine, the old sisal type. 

One Saturday afternoon all riding had finished, it was a wet and stormy day, torrential rain that was cold. All the ponies bar one, Blaze, were being ridden and I was on Misty leading Blaze. 
We came off the track to the stables and perched on the stile waiting for a bus, was Margy, my sister's best friend. She was a novice rider, only just off a lead rein. Knowing she had missed the bus and had nearly an hour to wait, I put her up on Blaze. All was well as we trotted to the furthest field. On the corner, hidden by a large hedge was an old tin shed and just as we got level with it a strong blast of wind demolished the lot. Sheets of rusted corrugated iron blew up in the air, over the hedge and crashed in the road right by us. Some of the ponies spun around and went back down the road, the others just took off in a gallop. 

Marry was hanging on for dear life, as we alll were! I expected the ponies to stop at the field entrance but they didn't. One girl on Trixie went around the next corner on the wrong side of the road. Blaze got onto the pavement (sidewalk) and Misty on the road. Somehow I managed to get Misty onto the pavement but smashed my knee on a lamp post. 
We went down the hill amd along the road pretty much flat out. The hill into town was steep with a sharp turn either left or right at the bottom. I had to do something so I leapt from Misty launching myself onto Blaze's head, grabbing his nose with one hand and pinching his nostrils hard. He dragged me several yards but they all stopped near the bottom of the hill. 

The woman, Jillian, who was working at the stables came driving the old van and was relieved to see us all alive. It was only when I went to walk did I realise my knee really hurt me. There was plenty of blood soaking through my jeans but the pain was more than a bruise and cut. 

Marty got into the van and I managed to get back on Misty and we all rode at a trot, back to the field. 

Jill realised,how much pain I was in amd drove us all into town. I asked her to drop me off at the doctors as I knew I would have to get my knee looked at and if I went home I would have to walk back up to the surgery!

Dr Graham-Stewart might not have been the best GP in the world but he would see anyone day or night and he took me into his surgery despite being closed. We managed to get my jeans off and my knee was already double in size and as he looked so we could see it swelling more. 
He called to his wife and she brought their car around and I hobbled into it. He took me to the hospital where X-rays showed a broken knee cap. It was to swollen to plaster so I had to wait several days before they would. Bandaged up and given pain killers Dr delivered me back home. 

I had a plaster cast fitted several days later, it went from my toes to the top of my thigh. I could ride bareback but not in a saddle. I do admit that with a pair of tin snippets and the blade of a hacksaw, we cut a large section from the inner thigh as it dug in when I was riding. No one at the hospital ever said anything about it.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The riding school had been sold to a family that had their three girls riding there. Nothing was ever going to be the same again so when Margaret offered for me to go work for her I took the job. She was setting up a small livery yard with her own horses.

I moved along with Pixie, who had been Margaret's frost pony, and a young horse Seaquest bred by some friends who competed. 

Life was going to be very different!

The house was all on one level and only partially finished when I arrived. The stables were also still under construction. Domineering over the place was the old barn. A beautiful old wood construction well over a hundred years old. 
It was similar to this - and much the same condition, when I moved.

http://www.greatbarns.org.uk/wpimages/wp367d4b5b_05_06.jpg
Altogether there were ten stables plus one in the barn, the tackroom was also in the barn.

The stables formed an 'L' shape with a spur at right angles as a garage. The back of the barn formed the third side. 

When I arrived Margaret had a young unbroken mare Tangy, and Mouse, the filly she was given that was unreliable to ride. Mouse was in foal. Also Sncho a Quarter Horse given to friends of Margaret and thy more or less gave him to her. 

It wasn't long before everything was finished. All very smart and different to what I was use to. I went exploring on Sancho finding bridle paths and rides. It wasn't good. Basically four bridle paths, two of those overgrown an d more or less unrideable. 

The place was on a X roads, and the traffic fast and furious. The driveway was situated just below the brow of a hill and there were so many accidents right by us. The road was straight and impatient drivers thought they could pass, not realising there was a dip so often met another car coming up from the X road head on. 

The minor road forming the X was also very straight and traffic was often going to fast to stop at the junction so that added to the danger. 

Just off the minor road was an old pony racing track. Big old brick house, lots of stables, a parade ring and stands with a race track all fenced off. It hadn't been used in years. It was owned by a Jewish man Mr Lipton, who became a strong support for me. One of the biggest characters I have ever met and an influence on my outlook on life.

There were more stables from the race track at the back of Margaret and Guy's house which Mr Lipton used for his grandson's jumping pony, resting trotting horses and any TBs he had away from racing. 

About a mile away was a big Georgian house owned by a Mr Cadbury, he had a farm and owned much land all around and also another farmhouse opposite the drive. I had met him before on the Island, and didn't like him at all. 

So, the scene was set for me to move on.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I was out early riding Sancho one sunny morning and had decided to try and get up one of the blocked bridle paths. I carried a pair of loppers and secateurs with me. Sancho was quite happy to help clear the path by eating all he could. 

I cleared enough to get through only to find a tree had come down across the track. I rode up to it and the landing was clear from that point on. I threw the loppers over, turned to get a run and jumped it. It was probably a tad over four foot in height. I rode to the top to have a landing strip ahead. I checked my ordanence survey map and the bridle path went straight across the landing strip. 

Once over it I was riding quite close to the big house, came onto a rough track and had to ride through a gipsey encampment, scruffy children stared at me and swore, equally scruffy adults stared. A couple of men told me I would be in trouble from Mr Cadbury. 

I was soon on the road and started back, hadn't gone far before a red Lotus Elan came roaring towards me, itnthen swerved and came at me. Sncho was trusting and did nothing other than stop and stare.

Out of the car stepped Cadbury, red in the face and obviously furious. 

"Were you riding across my landing strip?" He bellowed, "Do you know just who I am?" 

"Oh," says I, looking down on him, "Did you realise your landing strip interferes with a bridleway?" 

"Do you know who I am? I am Peter Cadbury of Cadbury Chocolates, Keith Prowse and Westward TV!" 

"How do you do, " I replied, "Makes no difference who you are, I have the right of way to ride the bridle path." 

"That path has been closed for years, no one has ridden it" 

"Well, I have and will be getting in touch with the Council to get it opened." 

He was probably in his late fifties, unfit and probably ate to many of his chocolates, I really thought he was going to have a heart attack. 

I bid him good day and rode on my merry way. 

After much correspondence with the local council Cadbury was made to clear the bridleway and many people made use of it.


----------



## Foxhunter

*I was working very hard, doing all the donkey work, majority of the riding and loving every moment of it. 

The horses were all fairly highly bred. Two things I found hard, first was making friends, we were fairly isolated and I knew no one in the area, the second was living in the same house as my bosses. 

I joined the local Young Farmers and attended a couple of meetings but to my shock hardly anyone spoke to me at all. Very unlike the Island where a stranger was welcomed - even if it was just to be nosey and find out all about them! 

There was a big Agficultural Contractor across the road, they were digging out ditches and treating the land. They were friendly enough but never asked me out. Well, except for Slim. Slim was not the brightest button in the box, but he did ask me out. I might have been a bit lonely but I wasn't that desperate! 

Always he would walk down across one of the fields every Friday afternoon, climb through the railings, across a ditch and into the stables and say, "There's a party going on to night, do you want to come?" Every time I found an excuse not to go. 

Eventually one of the lads, Martin, asked if I wanted to go with him and his fiancé to a party that night. I accepted. 

Four of the lads lived in a big old farmhouse a couple of miles away. Every weekend it was open house and everyone and his brother went there. Booze was brought in and everyone chipped in £1 towards more booze and food. These parties started Friday night and ended Sunday so it was a cheap weekend. I soon made several friends which was great. 

Several of us had to go to work the next day but we always made it. Sunday mornings I would often get in just as the sun was rising. I would change, go straight out to do the horses and then go to bed! 

Those were the days!


----------



## Foxhunter

*There wasn't an arena so we rode in the front field. At winter had been on and off with breaking Tangy. It had snowed and the fields were wet and being clay, heavy to rode in so we loaded her up and took her to a local indoor school. 

Margaret lunged her for a while and I was leaning over her when two women, with their horses came into the arena. Not ideal when backing a youngster first time. 

One woman had a very excitable horse that was cantering sideways as soon as she mounted. Neither Margaret or I had a clue as to how things were going to go! 

I was sat in the saddle amd Margaret decided the best thing to do was to lunge me. Even though we asked the other two to stay at one end amd we would stay at the other, the nutty horse kept coming down our way. Fortunately the manager saw and threw them out as we had booked the arena and they had to wait until we had finished. 

Tangy really couldn't give two hoots about having a rider on top. As I trotted her down one sore the melting snow was sliding off the roof and splitting on the ground and she took no notice at all. 

I cannot remember why but that was it for riding her for the rest of the winter. One spring morning we were outside just looking at the horses grazing. Tangy was turned out with old Pixie and they were at the far end of the furled. 

Guy was always challenging me and he said, "I bet you a tenner that you wouldn't get on Tangy and ride her to the gate." 

I took her halter off the gate and he hastily added, "Without a halter." 

"Not for a tenner I won't," I replied.

"OK, twenty then." 

I walked across to Tangy amd made a fuss of her. I did a few swings of my leg as she had never had that done to her before but she never cared. I swung up onto her back and told her to "Walk on." 
She started to walk towards the gate fine then old Pixie, who was in need of bifocals and a hearing aid, realised she was going away from him amd cantered past us. Tangy went straight into a canter which was fine but I realised she wasn't going to stop at the gate. Margaret no Guy realised the same thing amd moved to the side. 
Tangy just adjusted her stride, took off, cleared the four feet gate, landed in the drive, amd had to immediately turn right and carted me to the stables. I slipped off her back thinking that I should have got fifty pounds for that! 

I led her back amd turned her back out with Pixie. 
Guy reckoned he didn't have to pay as he had said, "To the gate, not over it." He did pay me later. 

I rode Tangy without any problems, she was a great mare full of character and bold as brass.


----------



## Foxhunter

* When I first arrived Margaret and Guy would play cards in the evening. Their favourite game was Canasta. Very similar to a complex Rummy and with two complete packs. I had never played before but, loving cards I soon caught on to how to play. 

We would sit at the kitchen table. Margaret one sore, me opposite amd Guy at the head of the table. I played to him he to Margaret and she to me. 

The object of the game is to get as many points as you can and first one to 5,000 points is the winner. 

After a while, amd I was still fairly green at playing, Guy suggested that we play for a penny a point. This was well and good for him I couldn't afford it as often he was on 5,000 and I was only on a few hundred. 

We played two or three times a week. After a while I started to win, Guy hated that. After a few evenings of me winning he brought up the penny a point again and I agreed. 
He just could not win. I was beating him hollow, he blamed Margaret for giving me the cards I needed, she wasn't! This went on for several weeks. Often I was finished and Guy was on a minus score. He always paid up but hated it! It wasn't the money it was loosing. 

Margaret couldn't understand it wither. One day when we were out riding she asked me if I was cheating. I agreed that I was. That night she couldn't see how I was cheating and kept a careful eye on me. 
The following night Guy wanted us to swap places so Margaret and I switched sides of the table. Straight away she started to win which infuriated Guy. 

It was all so simple, he always held his cards high and whoever was sitting where I had been could see what cards he had in hos hand. He suspected something and insisted I sat at the head of the table. I did quite willingly but I pulled the curtains first.

Even though neither of us could see his cards he played badly because he was so annoyed at loosing so much.

I never felt guilty about taking his money!


----------



## Foxhunter

* Stepping back a bit, to the riding school.

I was escorting one of the senior girls rides one afternoon. It was a miserable day, thick fog with a drizzle that soaked you before you even knew it was raining. 
We had charged across Big Down and riding down the side there was a new born calf and no mother around. We spread out and found the cow who had obviously just calved, drove her and a couple of others back to the calf only to be totally shocked when she started to trample and butt it around. 

The calf stood no chance, it was wet from birthing and the rain, shivering and not really even wanting to stand. 

That was it, two girls dismounted and lifted the calf over the front of my saddle, (John Wayne eat your heart out!) and we took her back to the stables. 

We called the farmer who told us to just leave it up there, he wasn't interested. (I loosely say 'farmer' as he was a retired Air Force Officer who thought he knew all there was to know about farming) 

I hadn't a clue about cattle at all. I went down to the farm belonging to Moss Fleming's brother and ****, the dairyman gave me a bottle, teat and a bucket of colostrum he had just taken off one of the milk cows. 

When I got back Jane had dressed Maggie, as she had been named by the girls, in an old sweater and they had her standing. Fed from a bottle she seemed a lot warmer and stronger. 

Suffice to say Maggie stayed. She was well handled, treated like a horse and was one of the family. She would lead to and from the fields along with the horses perfectly happy trotting along with them. She would stand tied in the stables just like her friends, be groomed and would pick up her feet quite happily. 

When I left Maggie stayed, she was about three when I left. 

Going forward to my new job. Margaret bought Clippy, Tangy's older full sister. She had been broken and ridden. We were out riding one day. I was on Ross, Guy's hunter, leading Seaquest. We were rifding along a lane when we met a herd of Friesian cows coming in for milking. Ross and Seaquest thought nothing of it as I stood to the side to let them past. Clippy was terrified. Even sheltered by my two she just reversed as fast as she could back down the road. 
The lead cows, usually the bossy ones, thought this a great game and proceeded to chase her. They went past the farm entrance before turning back to go into the milking parlour. 

Poor Clippy was in a heck of a state but calmed down as we rode on. 

We didn't really think anything of it and often rode that way all winter without meeting any cows because they were all inside during the winter. 

Margaret took Clippy out one spring morning. Fortunately I had gone inside when the phone rang. It was Margaret in a panic. She had fallen off Clippy who had taken off flat out and was heading to the motorway. I had to hitch up the trailer and bring it to the motorway. 

Margaret had been riding down a lane, the road lower the the field, calves had been turned out and had galloped to the fence. Clippy had gone sideways, hit the opposite bank, lost her footing and gone down, Margaret had come off and couldn't hold her when she got to her feet and took off away from home. 

I drove as fast as I dared asking people "Have you seen a loose horse?" Most had! She had gone about two miles before galloping up the motorway on the wrong side. 

A woman happily driving along, saw her coming and stopped, jumped out her car and waved her arms, at the same time saying "Whoa." Clippy just stopped allowing herself to be caught. 

The Police arrived before me. I had to drive up the motorway and back down. Clippy was dripping with sweat and had worn right through the toes of her back shoes to the point her feet were bleeding. 

Once home and dealt with Margaret and I were shaking thinking of what might have happened. 

We spent most rides trying to get her use to cattle with no improvement so, Maggie was brought to get her use to cows. 

Clippy was stabled and Maggie in the paddock opposite so could be seen. Clippy would stand at the back of the stable looking up the field, she wasn't really eating so strong was her fear. 
It was about 4 a.m. one morning when I heard a heck of a ruckus from the stables. I thought a horse was cast. I went out my bedroom window in my PJs and barefooted, only to see Maggie on the lawn in the stable yard, eating petunias from the flower tub outside Clippy's stable. Every time the mare looked over the door Maggie would moo to send her back inside again. 

I haltered Maggie and decided I had had enough of Clippy being so neurotic and tied Maggie to the ring outside Clippy's door. I hung a haynet and left them to it. Margaret wasn't pleased when I told her at breakfast what I had done but, it worked. Clippy was standing near the door, no longer shaking or sweating and Maggie was quite happy where she was. By lunchtime they were both eating from the same haynet (I didn't give Clippy one in her stable) 
Although never 100% with large herds of cows, Clippy stopped freaking out when she saw any.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Mouse had a colt foal, she went away to give birth and be covered again. When she returned from the stud along came a little grey Welsh pony so the foals became Fish and Chips. It was my first time of handling very young foals but both were very amicable to human contact. 

I was doing most of the riding on Tangy, Margaret Clippy. Both these mares were great jumpers. 

Clippy was, thinking back, one of the most neurotic horses I have ever come across - and there have been quite a few! 

Elm trees along the hedge line had to be felled as they had Dutch Elm disease, the arborists that came to fell them were very professional. A couple of lads took it in turns to climb the tree and cut off branches. Those on one side were dropped directly onto the ground, those overhanging the stables and lawn were roped and swung into the field. Finally they felled the trunks after clearing and logging the bigger branches, the rest was heaped into a big pile for burning. 

Margaret and Guy were taking a short holiday in Spain it was decided to turn Clippy out each day rather than giving me another one to ride. Margaret bought her a new New Zealand rug. Back then these were heavy canvas and with hind leg straps. 

Knowing how Clippy could react to things I wanted to put the rug on her overnight but Margaret said she'd be fine. 

So, I fetched Margaret to watch as I turned her out. She trotted across the field, got down and rolled. On rising she gave a large buck, panicked when she felt the leg straps and took off at a flat out gallop around the field and heading straight at the railings near the gate. I stood directly in line waving my arms and the halter but she just leapt straight ove rthe rails, caught her front legs on a small wall around the house garden and went down, she was quicker to her feet than me and disappeared up the drive. 

Unfortunately the big wagon that had been loaded with the tree trunks was just turning onto the road - he went left Clippy went right. 

One of the lads was sitting in hos car drinking a coffe. I jumped into the passenger seat yelling "Folow that horse!" 

It was a good mile before we could overtake her and when we did the lad pulled up to fast so she went past. We managed to get ahead of her further down the road and once she heard my voice she slowed down and stuck her nose in the halter. 

I wasn't going to walk back so tied the rope to make reins and vaulted onto her. She had never been ridden bareback and was a bit 'humoy' but a good boor with both legs and a harsh word she settled and was trotting her back when Margaret came along in the trailer. I continued back whilst Margaret had to turn the trailer around, when she got back Clippy was back out in the field - in her rug happily mooching around as if nothing had happened. 

The week Margaret and Guy were away I never left that rug off her. Obviously I moved it but she had it on all night as well as during the day.


----------



## mkmurphy81

This is the best thread on the forum! I love your stories.


----------



## Foxhunter

Thank you for the compliments. Nice to know they are enjoyed.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Sancho was a natural jumper, he was a JA (in the top money winning bracket show jumping) he also loved his cross country. 

I was still a member of the Island's Pony Club and they asked if I had a horse I could represent them in the forthcoming Horse Trials. So, I was entered on Sancho. 
The event was only down the road from where we were. 

I had no worries about the jumping but the dressage was another matter! Sancho being a stocky QH (only 14.2) and naturally went on his forehand very difficult to get up on the bridle especially as he was basically lazy and in the dressage arena, lazier still! 

What we had found of old was to work Sancho in as if he was going jumping, boots on, lots of cantering and a few pops over practise jumps this put him on hos toes and much easier to get a good test from him.

So, I warmed him up, jumped him amd at the last moment hos boots were removed and I went into the dressage arena. He was going well, good active working trot and an excellent canter. I was doing the long rein walk when a pony, doing the cross country now without his rider, came galloping past the arena. 

Sancho, and to be truthful I agreed, it was much more fun to leap out the arena and try to give chase! 

After that the test went downhill. Clear with the jumping. It was a pity as the first half of the test was eights and nines the second, four and fives. I was just off qualifying for the Championships.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


We had a livery come, Eliza, her owner was someone Margaret knew. The mare came from Eire, about 15.3 and bright bay. She was four. 

What was strange about her was that she had rings around her eyes where she had lost the hair and pigment and also white spots all over her muzzle. The vets were perplexed as to what the cause was. 

Her owner was myopic and wore very thick spectacles, so when they rode it looked like both of them had their eyes popping out their heads. 

The owner rode Eliza every day, if she couldn't come then the mare was turned out. The owner was a good experienced rider but, she would get after the mare for what seemed to me, no reason. We had to rode on the roads to get anywhere and traffic could be fast. Eliza was wary of fast cars coming head on but did nothing more than tense. Heady vehicles was another matter and her owner would whack her hard when she reacted. It seemed to me that the mare was expecting and hiding of a heavy vehicle came along. I suhpggested it but was told I didn't know what I was talking about. 

The owner had to go away with her husband for three months so Eliza was left in our care (basically mine) afterma couple of weeks I noticed that her pink spots on her muzzle werema lot smaller and that the rings around her eyes were growing white hair. 

I rode her out with Margaret and any heavy vehicles would have Margaret cover her with whatever she was riding. I would scratch her withers and act as if we were passing a gate. Gradually she totally relaxed and although not liking fast vehicles she never reacted. 

Her owner returned and all went back to square one, she lost the new grown hair and the spots appeared on her muzzle and she was bad in traffic. 

After several months the owner had to go abroad with her husband, this time for a year. Again Eliza became a 'normal' horse. When they returned they bought a house with land and took the mare to their home. It was about three months later when she was brought back for the vet to look at. The problem was that when you went to mount her she collapsed. She had also lost more hair around her eyes and her muzzle was almost completely pink. 
She was examined, pummel daughter and pulled with no reaction. Once saddled as soon as you took a hold of the stirrup to mount her back sagged and if you continued to mount she staggered and almost collapsed. 
She had a fittedmsaddle, sheepskin numnah and a sheepskin girth sleeve but it made no difference. I had to runnher up and down the drive checking for the slightest unevenness. Second time running her back I vaulted onto her and she shot forward half bucking but there was no sagging. 

I was expecting a rollicking but thought it worth one to prove something to myself. I was sure that horse and rider were a total mismatch. 

We stopped to talk and have a cup of tea. Eliza was in a stable. After about half an hour I went out and tacked her up, led her out and mounted her from the ground without her sagging at all. I rode her at all paces in the field and popped her around the showmjumps with no problem.

It came as a shock to the owner because she realised that the horse was reacting to her. She didn't want to sell Eliza so as she was well,bred, she bred from her. Luckily thenowner started a family so the youngsters were sold off. After a year Eliza had hair around her eyes and the pigment back in her muzzle.

Eliza was the first horse I came across that was in the throws of having a nervous breakdown.


----------



## Foxhunter

* A couple of miles down the road was a show stables run by two sisters. They had some lovely animals in their charge mostly show ponies but a few horses as well. 
They didn't have a lot of grazing land and often we would have a pony or two with us for grazing. One summer that sent along a grey show Cob mare. She was 15.1 and built like a tank but moved as lightly as any show pony. 

So, she was turned out with Mouse who wasn't in foal, amd Misty another Welsh brood mare pony, also empty that year. 

Seaquest had gone lame so was turned out with the three. Misty, having bred many foals was an absolute tart because she hadn't been covered amd would stick her butt under Seaquest's nose and pee all over him. Eventually the inevitable happened and Seaquest was seduced into covering not only Misty but the other two mares also.

I had been out partying and had returned home in the early hours, changed and gone straight out to do the horses, mucked out, turned out and gone to bed. 

I hadn't been asleep very long when I heard a car horn blaring. I jumped out of bed as there was violent knocking on the front door. Guy answered it in his dressing gown - not the prettiest of sights with his hairy legs, to find a tiny elderly lady absolutely frantic. 

"My mare, my poor mare," she was practically in tears, "She's being raped!" 

There was the mare at the gate piddling away trying to get Seaquest to perform again! What more could a horse ask for, mother feeding one end and a horse covering her? 

We didmremove Seaquest as he was loosing so much weight and his holiday was exhausting him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Margaret and Guy were away when I had a call asking if I could have two horses at livery, the owner had had a nasty accident and was in hospital with her head split open. There was a mare and her four year old gelding son. 

A livestock haulier brought them down, he dropped the ramp of the horsebox and there was a magnificent dark bay horse looking out. He had a very strange marking on his face it looked just like a Tadpole. 
He was quite stirred up and looking allmaround once unloaded. I had trouble getting his attention and he wasn't afraid to walk through me. 

The mare was the opposite, well mannered and polite. 

Instabled them as I didn't know what was wanted in the way of keep. 

That evening I got a call from the owners husband. The mare was an advanced dressage horse,, his wife was German and the pair had represeted Germany many times. The gelding was her first foal, by a TB. The husband didn't known what had happened with his wife, she had been working the young horse and was found with her head split open. He asked if we would continue breaking Tadpole (that was actually his name) the mare could just be turned out, she wasn't in foal. 

The next day I took Tadpole into the field to lunge him. I knew he had been tacked up but no one knew if he had been ridden or not and I wasn't prepared to do it on my own. 

He lunged around on the left rein fine, great paces, well balanced and looked something special. Then he suddenly stopped, swung in towards me, reared up amd came walking at me on his back legs. 

My first thought was, "This is how she got her head smashed in." And instantly, "What would Margaret do?"

I leapt someways away fro hos flailing hooves and brought the lunge whip across hos belly and then several times across is back legs. I was by no means gentle, I wanted him to feel it and know I meant business.

It worked in that he came down on all four feet but he had his head away from me and took off across the field. To the far corner. There was no way I could hold him and I had to let the lunge line go. 

That was it, he never reared at me again but I couldn't hold him whilst lunging in an open area. 

I hate loosing! I went across the road to the Agricultural Contractors and borrowed a long length of nylon rope, I tied this to a telegraph pole in the field and lunged him around it. He went a couple of circles amd went, he hit the end of the rope and went base over apex. I really thought I had killed him as he just twitched and lay still. 
By the time I got to him he was getting to his feet and heaving for breath, he had well and truly winded himself. 

I kept him attached to the pole, he did try once more but not at any speed and stopped before the end of the rope pulled him up.

The next day he was hardly able to move, he was so stiff! Some of the lads were doing field work so I took him into the field, mounted him from the show jump wall and rode him for a good hour. He never tried to do anything adverse from that day on.

By the time the owner was out of hospital Tadpole was going well. He had a tremendous jump, was very bold and loved working. Her husband told her that he was to be sold and she agreed she would never be fit enough to ride him. He was advertised and some people coming at midday to look at him. 
Margaret went off to a dental appointment thinking she would be back in plenty of time. The people arrived just after ten. I was working another horse when they arrived. I put that away and pulled out Tadpole. He looked a picture. His coat was gleaming and he showed himself impeccably.

I rode him amd they rode him. They popped him around the show jumps and the cross country fences and he did all with enthusiasm. 

I didn't have a clue what price had been asked for him. I talked the talk, telling them that he could be a Badminton horse with the right rider. I wasn't being untruthful either. 

After talking amongst their selves, having a coffee, they went back to the stable to look at Tadpole in his stable.
Margaret returned and then the owners. It was still before midday. I told them that they really liked the horse and he had gone beautifully. 

The owner wanted to get £1,000 if she could. I was astounded at this and told her that I thought she wanted £3,000 for him. 

I went to get the people and told them I had made a mistake and the owner wanted £3,500.

They didn't bat an eyelid or make an offer but said that subject to the vet they would have him. 

Hands were shaken, a deposit left and they would make the vetting arrangements. Tadpole was thoroughly vetted and was collected the following week. 

The owner was more than grateful, she gave Margaret £500 and me £1,000 as I had done all the work. I had never been so rich!


----------



## Foxhunter

* One of the most fascinating people I have ever met was Mr Lipton, an elderly Jewish gentleman who lived a couple of miles away and owned the racecourse and fields adjoining ours. 
He would proudly boast that he was five feet one and a half inches tall. 
He always drove the latest Jaguar car, back then it was an XJ4. 

His passion was his horses. He owned several trotting horses in France, two flat racing horses in the U.K. and his grandson's top class jumping pony. 

Having turned his buisiness, fork lift trucks, over to his son, he was bored at home so would visit us every afternoon around 3 p.m. with a large packet of McVitee's milk chocolate biscuits and Sunday mornings around 11 a.m. with a magnum of champagne. (He didn't like the bubbles in champagne so would always put a sugar lump in the glass to remove the bubbles!) 

His two racehorses had been in training with an elderly woman trainer. Back then women were not allowed to hold a trainers license so it went under the name of her Head Lad. 
Warrington was a three year old TB colt. He had had a run as a two year old and returned back to Mr Liptons stables for the winter, I had seen the gardener go down to get him an and had watched in fascination and disbelief as the poor man defended himself with a lunge whip. The colt would really go for him so he would open the gate and just let him go to the stable loose. His feed was in there sonthe colt would usually comply. In the morning he would open the gate to the field, put the feed out there and let him loose. That worked better than getting him in!

Mr Lipton asked if I would go over and pull Warrington's mane as it was rather long, I said I would. I went out to the field, armed with a lunge whip, but had no need for it. I stabled him and pulled his mane. Sure he was very mouthy but other than that no problem. 

As I was finishing Warrington so Mr Lipton's daughter arrived and asked if I would pull the pony's mane too. I did that. She just thanked me and went off. 

Next day Mr Lipton came as usual and asked if his daughter had given me anything for doing the pony. I said she hadn't. He then gave me £5 for doing the two. He also said, "Never trust my daughter - she's a Jew and will not part with her money!" 

So, come the autumn Mr Lipton asked if we would have Warrington in to ride and get fit. The horse hadn't been ridden in a year and hadn't raced or gone into training that season. 

I went over armed with a bridle, caught him and led him the quarter mile back to the stables. That was a trip and a half. He was pulling, bucking and trying to bite me all the way. 

(_More later_


----------



## Foxhunter

* Warrington was not a nice horse, he bit, kicked amd given half a chance would lean against me pinning me to the stable wall and cow kicking me. 

I became afraid of what he might do and I could bett everything I had, that it wouldn't be nice. 

Leading him to the field to lunge him, I turned to close the gate and as I turned again so he got his head away from me. I tried to hang on and was running alongside him. Hos parting shot was to double barrel me breaking three robs on one side and four on the other. I can tell you that when winded you can still move of a horse turns and comes charging at you.

That was it, Warrington was gelded the next day. Even if he had been a great racehorse he had a very severe parrot mouth that no one would have wanted to use him. His top jaw overlapped the bottom by three or four inches. 

By the time I was fully able to work he had settled a bit and I started riding him. He was OK at forest and then the napping started. Margaret insisted that the vet come examine him. The day he arrived Warrington was extreme with his behaviour. The vet, well known as a world leading equestrian vet, said, "Nothing physically wrong with that horse he's just a bloody spastic." 

Not long after this Margaret and I were out riding. There was a grass verge alongside the road. Every so many yards there was a drainage gully cut in the grass. Nothing like a ditch, the grass had just been cut away - all of 6 inches wide. 
Warrington decided that he couldn't possibly step over this particular gully and totally switched off. He was standing right up, spinning, bucking and lashing out. I beat seven bales out of him to no avail. Margaret rode back home and returned with another whip for me and the lunge whip but, by the time she got back I had got him over the now non existent gully and he was going down the road like a good one. 

Oh boy, had I hit that horse, being a thin skinned TB he not only had welts all over him but also where my whip had broken the metal running through it had cut him. I really didn't care. 
Back he was bathed off, Salve on the cuts and had his cotton sheet on amd put back in the stable. 

That evening I was going out when Mr Lipton arrived and wanted to see his horse. I glibly told him that he had rolled in the field in a bed of nettles. Nothing was said.

It took me several days to realise how Warrington had changed. He no longer attacked as I went past his door, he moved over when asked or even before if he knew it was what I wanted. No kicking or trying to lean. A totally new model,of a horse.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Mr Lipton brought over from France two of his trotting mares, both were meant to be in foal but one was empty so he decided to put her back in work. 

I lunged the mare amd couldn't work out for quite a few circuits, what was wrong with her and then I realised she was naturally pacing. 

What experience I had of driving could be written on a postage stamp with a marker pen. 

We finally tacked her up amd hitched her to a sulky and led her across the road to the race course. Mr Lipton took her a couple of laps steadily around the track whils I watched then he said I could have a go. 

Now, I am 5'9" and as said he only 5'11/2" the stirrups are welded onto the shafts so when I sat on the seat my knees were somewhere near my ears. Needless to say, I set off at a steady trot. 
Keeping my balance was something else. There was no back rest to lean against amd the seat rather narrow for my posterior, several times I nearly went out the backdoor so in the end I wound the mare's tail around my arm and used that to balance! Good job she was a really kind mare. 

Mr Lipton got another sulky that was better suited for me and I will say that I loved driving at a fast pace. 

He allowed Margaret and I to ride on the race course which was very handy. 

Meanwhile Peter Cadbury decided he wanted to follow hounds and bought a couple of hunters. Mr Lipton allowed him to rode on the race course too. Poor horses as they were regularly galloped flat out round and around.

We were out with the mare one Sunday afternoon when Cadbury and several cronies arrived. Mannerless git that he was I was trotting when theynall came galloping flat out past me. I was so angry and let the mare go. Pacing flat out she soon overtook them all amd left them standing. 

Cadbury didn't know a thing about horses and thought that of the mare could trot that fast she would be able to beat all his cronies when they raced. He wanted to buy her but she wasn't for sale. 

As theynwent to ride off so Mr Lipton called out, "Oh Peter, make the most of the track because I am selling it to the council for a housing estate." 

Cadbury turned back and asked, "How much?" 

Mr Lipton refused to say but about a month later Cadbury owned the racecourse, house and buildings. Mr Lipton retained thenstables and land across the road. There was no way that planning permission would ever have been given for houses in that area but Mr Lipton got building price for ir all. ( At least treble the cost of farmland back then) 

Sadly we were not allowed to ride there any more.

Some months went past and then we heard that Cadbury was going into partnership with another man who had a load of western horses in the US. Cadbury, who owned an airline company was flying them over, 

Altogether there were around sixty horses brought over including eight or nine stallions. The stallions were mostly QHs but there was an Arab and a couple of Appys. 

The rest were all mares heavy in foal. 

Then the fun began!


----------



## Cordillera Cowboy

I remember you relating some of these stories in various threads. I always enjoyed them. So happy that you've decided to collect them all in one place.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Mr Lipton was a self made millionaire. He came from the Lipton Tea family bit as a child at the beginning of the 1900s his father was fed up with hos antics (I never learned what they were) and at the age of 14 was given £14 and told to go make his own way in the world. 

He went to the US and worked as a Bellhop in various hotels. When he saved $25 he would buy a plot of land in some town yet tot be developed. He had various jobs and no doubt worked and saved hard. 

WW1 broke out and he was suddenly terribly homesick so he came back to the UK and joined the Airforce as a mechanic. After the war he bought a couple of lorries and started a hauliers business. Doing this he realised something was needed to help load and unload the goods so set about building a fork lift truck. 

WW2 saw him back in the Airforce as a mechanic but also he was still running hos trucks and I am fairly sure the black market brought him in money! 

By the 1960s he owned several factories building forklifts. 

He never asked his family for a penny on his return from the US and still owned several sites in a variety of towns across the US. 

E always had a twinkle in his eye and would tell Jewish jokes all the time. I can still remember a couple of them. 

He was free with advice. He told me to put money in the bank then go ask for a loan over six months. To take that loan and most of my money out. Put it somewhere safe and return it three months later. It would cost me a few pounds but would set my credit up if the loan was paid in full well before the due date. Made sense. 

There was nothing more he enjoyed than pulling off a good deal like with Cadbury amd the racecourse. One day he arrived and said he had a saddle for sale. I asked, "How much?" Before he could say anything I said, "No, that's way to much!" 
He roared with laughter and gave me the saddle in the back of his car. 

One Sunday Margaret was going to a show. Mr Liptons daughter drove in and asked if I could help load their horse. They had sold the pony and bought a young horse for Larry to compete on. It didn't work out as the horse was way to green for him and way to big. 

They had swapped it for an older more experienced show jumper but they couldn't load the youngster. 

After Margaret left I went over. The horse was having a great time rearing and pulling away from them all. 

The horsebox driver was a friend of the dealer and had just come to collect, he wasn't horsey and openly admitted to being afraid of them. Mr Lipton's gardener was there waving a lunge whip around. The horse had travel bandages on which had slipped and were useless. 

I had the driver move the horsebox so one side was against the stable wall. I put a bridle on the horse with a lunge line attached to the bit. Removed the bandages. 

I positioned the gardener to the left some of the ramp and led the horse out. He got to the bottom of the ramp and reared. For his pains he got a hard jerk in the mouth and couldn't get his head away. As he came down so I yelled "Now!" To the gardener who. Fought the whip across the horse's back legs. 
That was it he loaded immediately and went on his way, never to be seen again by me. 

I was asked and went back. 

Mr Lipton came down with hos champagne later that morning. He thanked me for helping and asked if his daughter had given me anything. I said she hadn't so he insisted I took the £10 he had. 

I went out that evening and on my return Margaret told me there was a present for me from Mr Lipton's daughter. 
It was a box about 12 inches wide, six deep and wide. I felt it and rattled it and it sounded like chocolates. We all laughed and joked that she had been given them and that the sweets probably had teeth marks in them! 
I undid not the wrapping paper and revealed a box with draws in it containing very expensive hand made chocolates. We all shrieked with laughter when I saw that the cellophane enclosing the box, had been cut across. 
I opened the goodies and lo and behold not only were there no teeth marks there was a £10 note in one of the drawers! 

Next day I went to give Mr Lipton hos money back but he refused to take it. I was well paid for a job that took me less than thirty minutes.


----------



## Foxhunter

* So, the racecourse was soon filled up with horses. The stallions were all stabled and the brood mares in the centre of the race course. There were several staff living in caravans on site. 

There was a big old brick farmhouse by the parade ring, it had been empty for some time. Margaret and I were both riding in the field when there was a terrific 'BOOM' loud enough to make our horses jump and shoot forward. We both looked at the source of the sound to see a cloud of dust and smoke. The people had decided to make the house into an indoor arena and somehow had got some dynamite to blow up the inside walls. As some of the internal walls were weight bearing and they used to much blasting powder, the whole building collapsed. 

I was naturally very curious as to what was going on there and walked over to have a nose and ask questions. The answer was not a lot! Some of the staff had left, there were no lessons going on because there weren't any horses to ride and not many people were interested in riding western. 

It was obvious that the people caring for the horses were ignorant of anything equine. They looked the part in western gear but that was about it. 

I was asked if I wanted to rode one of the stallions and said I would. I did say I had never ridden western before but, a horse is a horse is a horse and I had watched a lot of cowboy films! That had to help! 

So, the next day I went over. The horses were tacked up they were waiting for me. I was given a chestnutnArab, General Sox, to ride. They pulled theirnhorses out and mounted. I got Sox out and naturally felt his girth. It was loose so I went to tighten it to find it was tied and never had a buckle, I was sneeringly told that it wasn't a girth but a cinch and that I should know how to tie it. 

One of them did come across and tighten it up for me but didn't show me how to tie it off. 

I went to mount, having always ridden English I stood at the shoulder facing back rather than the way western riders mount. Sox just stood vertical. I held on and every tine I went to mount he went up. I was being sniggered at white whispers loud enough for me to hear of "Thought she could ride!” 

I was brought up with the saying 'There's more than one way to skin a cat.' I ran with Sox trotting alongside and vaulted into the saddle. He immediately went into a bucking fit, broncing towards the track. Sheer determination, bloody mindedness and the horn kept me in the plate. 

Before I had my stirrups and had Sox settled they just galloped past him taking off around the track. I never let him go but circled and got him settled. After a short time he just relaxed and was listening to me. I loped (not cantered) to where they were waiting on the far side of the track. Nothing was said, they never expected me to manage him. 

Weeks later I found out that Sox wasn't ever ridden or taken out of the stable because he had bucked them all off. He had been stood in for at least three weeks. 

Another stallion they had, Par Black a QH could be difficult to rode so I often rode him. We were out one evening and going across a field with some heifers in it. I was told Par was a cutting horse, I hadn't a clue what that was! I was told to cut out a single heifer. 

I never realised a horse could leap sideways so fast not turn so tight. What I did learn was why western saddles have horns - to hang onto!


----------



## Foxhunter

* It became more and more chaotic over the road, it was nothing for the stallions to get loose and I had had them visit us more than once! The mares had foaled and so there were way to many horses in the centre of the racecourse, they were loosing weight. 
There were just so people caring for them all and they hadn't a clue. 

On opening the Horse and Hound we saw a double paged advert for these horses to be auctioned about six weeks ahead. There were some very nice animals there and Margaret and I decided to go have a nose. There were a couple of mares that were great conformation and we thought we might make a bid or two. 

The day of the auction came. Nothing much had been done with the horses to make them look respectable and many were separated from the foals for the first time so there was a lot of screaming and frantic behaviour. 

A few horses had been sold when there was the sound of Police sirens coming closer, not an unusual sound in the area but these came right to the site. 
The Police were escorting a Rolls Royce flying the American Embassy flag. Everything stopped and all were pretty aghast whenan enormous man clambered out of the car. He was at least 6'6" tall, as wide as a house and pretty portly too. He was wearing a white suit cowboy boots a white Stetson and had an enormous cigar in his mouth. 

He walked up to the auctioneer and bellowed that they couldn't sell the horses as they belonged to him. 

Chaos reined for a good hour whilst the horses papers were examined and Cadbury arrived. The auction was cancelled.

Turns out that the man who had gone into partnership with CDbury was a con artist and had told Cadbury he owned the horses, the Texan man was told that he owned the land and would pay to have the horses come to England. 

So things went on for a while over the road, then we heard that most of the horses had been sold to Australia. 

Back then no horse from the US was allowed into Australia unless it had spent six months in the U.K. These had done that. A while later I was given an Australian horse magazine and in it several of the stallions were being advertised at stud. 

Margaret and I were a bit disappointed as Sancho had such a big natural jump we thought that buying one of the mares or foals would give us the chance of another like him. It wasn't to be.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Guy was in the process of buying another farmhouse and buildings directly opposite from Cadbury. The place had been empty for years and fairly derelict. 

I was riding past one morning and saw three men working on the roof. I didn't think anything of it but it turns out they were stealing the lead from the roof. 

Thieving in the area was rife. Not only houses but also anything else they could get their hands on. The electricity went out one night just before 10 p.m. It was still off in the morning. The Police visited tomaskmof we had seen anything, turns out that the cables, hung on poles, had been stolen for the copper in them - about four or five miles of it. 

The gypsy men would often drop by, one would try and keep whoever answered the door occupied whilst others were all over the place like fleas on a dog. This dropped off considerably when they called one night. I answered the door and saw several men going around the barn, the oldest of them was at the door, asking for Guy,
Lynn, who was working with me, was frightened - I was to angry to be frightened! I shut the door and told him I would get Guy. Instead I went to the gun cabinet and took Guy's 12 bore shotgun. I loaded it and went back to the door, leaving the gun, safety off, by the side just out of sight but grabable. 

I can tell you my heart was racing. 

When I opened the door again the old man informed me that he had seen Guy and Margaret drive off. I called Lynn to ring the law. That was it I grabbed the gun and pointed it at his knees and told him amd the others to get off the property. He looked at me and said, "You haven't got the guts to use that!" 
I stared him straight in the eyes and replied, "You sure about that?" 

He whistled and several young lads appeared from around the back of the barn, jumped in the van and I let go both barrels at the van as it went up the drive. I didn't want to actually hurt anyone but just let them know I would if necessary. 

So, Guy called one morning to say that the farm was his. Margaret and I immediately we had finished riding, wet across to nose. There was a padlock on the barn which I prised off. Inside was an old Bentley car, the tyres were flat and it was covered in dust. It was obviously a top model, we tried the doors and they opened easily. The keys were in the ignition but the battery totally flat. The door closed with an almost silent click. 

Evidently it was made for the Shah of Persia and was bullet proof. Cadbury remembered it was there and arranged to have it collected at a later date. 

In th centre of what had once been the cow yard was a wooden shed, about twenty feet long and twelve wide. This was off the ground mounted on old saddle stones to stop rats getting into what had once been a grain store. We broke the lock off that too and when we opened the door it was packed solid with children's toys. We couldn't believe it. 

When Guy told Cadbury about the toys he said he would send the gardener down to burn them all. Guy suggested they were sent to a children's organisation but Cadbury wouldn't allow it. 

The gardener arrived a few days later. He was a lovely man and hated the job he had been given. We sorted through the toys (there was over a mile of four track Skeletric race track) we his many of the better toys in the old cowshed burned boxes, old wood lying around and broken toys. Lots of smoke from an old tyre and lots of heat, 

Later the gardener said that Cadbury had looked out from an upper window of his house just to make sure it was being burnt. 

There was about three acres of orchard along with the buildings which was well overgrown. The farrier we were using had a coupls of yearling steers so they and Maggie were turned out in the orchard. 
All was well fo a couple of weeks and then they were missing! We searched for them and saw a cow pat on The wheat to the some of the airstrip. I called the Farm Manager and he said that the dairyman had the three shut up in a stable. 
He told us he would call when it was safe to collect them as Cadbury was home, turns out Maggie had found the tail of hos plane an ideal scratching post and had actually broken it! 

Shows how popular the man was when his staff were willing to hide the truth from him!


----------



## Foxhunter

* I was doing all the hard work, I didn't mind but it was hard as I rarely ever took a break. 

Guy went to Germany on business, the day he was due back Margaret went to Heathrow to pick him up. 

We were living in the Thames Valley and often there was really thick fog that you couldn't see more than fifteen feet. This was one of those days. 

I had done all the mucking out by the time Margaret left. I knew zilch about flights then but it would have made sense to call the aorport to see about flight delays. 

This day has stuck in my memory as one of the worse days of my working life. (_I have written about it before_

I had to work the horses in the field because of the fog. I either rode or lunged them. 

I had two vets coming to look at two different horses, these two disliked each other. One was due at 11 and the other at 12. Of course, one arrived early and the other late. Both wanted my attention and both were arguing like crazy. I told them I only had two hands and if they didn't stop arguing I would bang their heads together to knock sense into them. That shocked them both but they behaved after that.

Then a load of straw arrived, no sooner had they gone than a load of shavings came. That was due the next day. Back then shavings came in hessian sacks and were messy and difficult to stack. I was well and truly behind with exercising. I just plodded on. 

During the course of the day I would skip out any droppings a horse had done. The wheelbarrow was a conventional one wheeler but had side extenders so it carried more. By he end of the day this would be full with mostly pure droppings. 

I hadn't stopped all day not even for a drink, I was wet from the fog and the sweater my mother had knitted me from an acrylic wool had stretched a lot. By the afternoon it was longer than my dresses I would wear! The muck man had also been and removed the muck heap behind the stables. I had just about finished the horses for the night when Margaret and Guy came back. It was nearly 7 p.m. I had done a 14 hour day non stop since breakfast. 

I had fed the horses, I would serve their grain in washing bowls which when I had fed them I would throw the bowls into the barn. Normally I had this off pat but this evening I couldn't see the barn from across the yard and could hear them hot the barn. 

I was about to empty the barrow when the car pulled up. They got out and Guy looked me up and down and said, "Hmm, I don't like the way you are dressed, I have brought a picture of how they do it in Germany for you."

That was the final straw! I blew my top and told him in no uncertain terms what he could do with his picture and he should have brought a German back to work for him. That was it, I handed in my notice on the spot. 

They were shocked as it wasn't like me at all. Margaret said she would get changed and come and help but I told her not to bother as I had practically finished. 

They went in the house. I continued to the now empty muck heap. At the edge of the concrete I drew the barrow back a bit and too a run to get it to the back. About halfway across I hot a stone, the barrow was stopped dead but momentum kept me going. The barrow was upside down with me lying on top of it, the wheel between my legs. The wheel caught my sweater and pulled it tight against me. I was stuck. Face inches off the poop, hands in it, I had to roll onto my back on the stones and try to untangle my sweater. I couldn't but did managed to wriggle out of it. I put it back on to find the back was above my waistline, the neck at the front was down to my navel and the front to my ankles with a large protrusion in the front from my knees down. Besides being covered in straw shavings, hay it also had a good layer of poop. 

That was it. I had two choices, I either laughed or cried. I chose the former as I could just picture myself and had it happened to anyone else I would have wet myself laughing. 

I finished off and went into the utility room. I stripped off to my panties and T shirt. I opened the door into the kitchen to be confronted by a near lifesize poster of a blonde nude leading a palomino horse through a field of hay. Written across it was 'How they do it in Germany' 

I stayed working for them.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Once we were really busy a girl was employed to help. She was pretty useless. I found that I was taking longer to do tasks because she wasn't doing them properly. After only a couple of weeks she decided she was homesick and left. 

Guy's parents had a house on the Island and the woman who was the housekeeper had a daughter who was miserable working in a shop amd wanted to work with horses so she was taken on. 

Lynn was about 5'4" and must have weightped in at around 225lbs. She was as wide as she was high. She wasn't experienced with horses though willing to learn amd if given a task she did it well. The thing was that she wasn't use to physical work and tired very easily. 

I was still doing most of the riding and the yard work. Lynn admitted to me that she had been spending most of her wages on sweets, here there wasn't a shop for miles. The combination of eating three meals a day, physical work and no sweets, the weight began to fall off her. 

About six months after she arrived she pulled out a pair of her trousers and they were enormous. Just for a laugh we both got into them - we couldn't do them up but our legs fitted! We were shrieking with laughter as we tried to walk down the hall in them. 

Lynn's riding improved a lot but really the only horse she could ride was Ross, Guy's hunter. 

It was a busy time in my life, I was partying most weekends, going out with Stanley, and somehow or the other, I know I was drunk at the time, I became engaged to him. I do know that when we went home to meet my parents my mother asked of he was 'the one' I assured her that there was no way I would ever be able to marry him. 

Stan had recently lost his mother and his father was a domineering man who bossed and put Stan down all the time. Nothing he did was ever good enough. I disliked the man and just as I enjoyed working with the problem horses I enjoyed bolstering Stan up and me standing up to Jack, his father.

Jack had a high powered job and at the weekends he liked a pint or two. His house was next to the pub which was handy!

I took to cooking Sunday Lunch, traditionally a roast. I would have it ready and Jack was never on time to eat it, often three hours late. It did more than annoy me. I told him that he had better be there this particular Sunday or he would be sorry. 

About thirty minutes before it was ready I went to the pub to tell them "Thirty minutes!" Jack promised he would be there. 

He wasn't. He took two women back to their place several miles away. That was it. I put his meal on a plate. He turned up, hungry, about two hours later. He never apologised, just asked where his dinner was. "In the oven, " I replied. 

I had left it in the oven but I had also turned the heat up full ballast. Everything was back, the roast potatoes were about the size or peas but none was really recognisable. 

Oh boy, did he let rip, shouting and swearing slamming his fist into things. I just sat there watching TV until he had run out of steam. I just got up to go home and said, "I warned you not to be late." 

He never was again.


----------



## LlamaPacker

This is fabulous reading! Puts me in mind of **** Francis stories...


----------



## Foxhunter

* End of last week I drove past the farm where many of the horse events were held. It is all so different now. Many of the barns are converted into industrial holdings but, I could still see it as it was. 
I stopped amd got out the car to look across the undulating land and remembered so may good, bad and funny times we had there. 

I am not sure if I have written about this Calamity Jane incident or not - forgive me if I have!

Jane was a nutter, hotter than a farriers fire. I am pretty sure that I was the only one mad enough to take her cross country. I started well enough until,we jumped a downhill fence when the brakes slipped. We tanked down the hill, over a gaping ditch a couple of other uphill fences did gove me a resemblance of control. At the top of the hill there were some simple rails which she cleared but we had to turn back down the steepest part of the hill. That was it, we were off! 
At the bottom of e hill was a stream, there were red and white markers indicating that we had to go into the stream, there were no markers guiding us out the stream but the logical way was to turn right step up onto the bridge over the stream and then left through the open gate. 

That was the way to do it but Jane hadn't looked at the map plan. We came down the hill - had she slipped we would still be rolling today! She saw the stream and just jumped it and the wire fence beyond it (this was covered with rolls of sacking) I just continued to finish the course. We had the fastest time of the day but they tried to eliminate me for not following the course.

Another time there again a cross country, I was riding in the pairs class with a friend, June. Stupidly I was sucking a butterscotch sweet. We had to jump each fence as a pair. No problem until we were a bit to close amd banged into each other midair, I swallowed the butterscotch which lodged in my throat. I was coughing and spluttering. June realised what had happened and she thumped me on the back so hard I had fingerprints but it did dislodge the blockage.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Back to Margaret's. 

It was leading up to Christmas. Margaret and Guy were going away for a few days and Mr and Mrs Trimble were coming to stay, prior to them going to Germany for Christmas with their other daughter, Jilly and her family. I wasn't looking forward to it at all! 

Mr amd Mrs Trimble arrived and Margaret and Guy left. I knew that Mr Trimble would want to help but that he would upset my routine. I was also worried about Mrs Trimble as she had suffered a stroke some years before and wasn't very steady on her feet or, very strong. 

In the kitchen cooking was done on an AGA cooker. This is a wonderful cooker that stays on permanently. It has two ovens. One hot and the other not quite so amd the top has two heavy lids covering the cooking rings, these are heavy to lift amd I was wondering how she would cope. 

I worked around him and helped her as much as possible. When he did any mucking out I found more poop in the bedding than was removed, hos arthritis and very poor eyesight being the reason. 

One day it was a thick fog, barely see your hand in front of your face fog. I worked the horses and finished just before lunch. He then decided that he wanted to finish his Christmas shopping and would go into town, about 5 miles. Really he should never have been driving as his sight was so bad but he was and there was nothing I could do about it. 
His car was a two door so I sat in the back. At the top of the drive I opened my window and listened fprmanything coming. I heard a large vehicle and told him, "A lorry is coming." 
"I can't see it." was the reply amd he pulled out in front of a ten ton truck. 
Only half a mile up the road there were road works going on. In the glow of the mist I could see the temporary traffic lights were red. 
"There are lights here and there red."
"No lights here." and continued to drive. The oncoming traffic, on our some of the road was told, in no uncertain terms by him "Get over your sore pf the road!" 

At the time the motorway was being extended and there were a lot of construction works just outside of the town, again I warned him but he took no notice amd drove across a new roundabout and ended up stuck in the unfinished centre of it. The workers pushed us put. 

In town I had him park on a side street where it was for free - he liked that. We shopped, had some lunch and then I refised to tell him where the car was parked. We got a taxi home and picked the car up days later when Margaret and Guy returned. 

Not long after that Christmas he had a double cataract operation done.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Many things happened that I hadn't encountered before. I was able to go to the vets when they were performing equine procedures. I had foals to handle and many good quality horses. 

When Mouse foaled a lovely filly that moved like a dream, the foal contracted salmonella. I nursed it day and night. I felt like death warmed up but kept going. One of the vets from the Equine Practice had been treating her but as a second opinion the head honcho arrived. He took one look a had a few prods and told us that she would die. I kept trying but he was right. 

Margaret had been in bed for a few days with what she thought was salmonella. I was also sick with anything I ate either coming back up or going straight through me. 

The foal died at lunchtime, Margaret was feeling better and went off shopping. I dragged the foal into the barn and called the Hunt to collect her, I turned Mouse out and then I collapsed in the yard. 

Next thing I hear a woman's voice booming, "Goodness child, what on Earth happened?" It was Eliza's owner's mother. A very wealthy woman who was always very correctly dressed and had always seemed to me to be rather eccentric. She helped me up and put me in my bed. 

I was on automaton, I slept, woke up an hour later, mixed the foal's feed and went out to feed her. There was the woman on the top of the muck heap squaring it up. She had on a pair of Guy's boots and had her skirt hooked up and tucked into her corset. Her chauffeur was forking the muck up to her and also seemed to be enjoying himself. 

"What are you doing out of bed?" she bellowed.
"You shouldn't be doing that." I spluttered.
"I haven't had so much fun since I was on the Pony Club!" Was her reply.
She had sent the chauffeur into town to buy me some medicine and made me take it. That didn't stay down for more than ten seconds. I was sent to bed and then, I don't know how long after, a doctor appeared to examine me. 
I had salmonella, I was carted off to a private hospital and slept for several days whilst they had me on a drip to rehydrate me. As soon as I was properly awake I was up and out of there. 

I had lost nearly 60 lbs and decided to go home to recuperate. 

I had a journey from hell. They were working on the railways lines, the journey, and I had to change trains, meant I missed my connection and by the time I got to the ferry I had missed the last one. I finally caught the mail boat at 2 a.m. Luckily there was a taxi when we berthed and he willingly drove me to my parents. I had to wake Mum to borrow some money to pay him. 
I fell into my own bed and asked Mum for an all milk hot chocolate with lots of sugar. (That would be a treble YUk normally) 

I was soon back to having some energy and returned to work. 

.........................................

_It wasn't until writing this that looking back, I realise just how inconsiderate Margaret was. To drive me to the ferry was around 90 minutes, the train trip over 2 hours without the delays. _

Once back at work if anyone asked how I was Margaret would be quick to inform them that she too had salmonella but she put up with it rather than having to go to hospital. First couple of times I kept quiet the. I retorted that she stayed in bed whilst I had been up doing the horses and feeding the foal every hour.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Lynne and I got along very well. Unable to get anywhere to buy sweets and with the physical work, she lost weight significantly. Months after she started we both got into a pair of her old trousers and could walk down the hallway together. Admittedly we couldn't do them up but it was a good laugh. 

Lynne worked alongside me but majority of the work was on me. I had way more experience and was a lot faster. She started looking after Clippy and Guy's hunter, Ross. In the afternoons when we were grooming the horses I found I was doing four or five whist she had just two. 

Snide remarks were coming out like, "Lynne was so good, she vacuumed the house, or Lynne prepared the vegetables for tonight's dinner." I just bit my tongue. What did irk me was when I was told the Ross and Clippy were groomed better than the other horses. It probably rankled because it was the truth but I had only fifteen to twenty minutes per horse whilst Lynne was spending at least an hour on each. 

When I went home for a weekend when I returned on the Sunday evening Lynnes praises were being sung to me. "Lynne was so great, Tangy had colic amd she got up to check on her several times during the night." 
It didn't go down well when I asked, "Why did she get colic? She hasn't had a bout in two years." (The mare had suffered bouts of colic most of her life from a yearling.)

I just went to bed. Leaving them thinking about it


One funny incident was with the mother of a livery, a jumping pony named Charlie. The woman was German, short and wide. She was always impeccably dressed and her hair up in a bun or a pleat. 

She owned a Dachshund named Hendrick. Poor dog was obese amd waddle around sniffing and cocking his leg over anything - including a horse's leg. 

One day Margaret and Kim were out riding and Kim's mother waiting for their return when the father drove up. She had been married before and her son from that marriage had been badly injured in a car wreck in Germany. Husband had packed some things for her, managed to get a flight to Germany for them both. 

She was more worried about Hendick than Kim. I assured her that we would see got back to boarding school and we would look after the dog. She thrust £40 into my hand with instructions that he only ate salmon, steak or chicken breasts and he had his half packet of chocolate biscuits during the day. 

Poor dog, he wasn't use to the food we fed and turned his nose up at it. He went round to see what the other dogs had and by the time he got back to his dish it was empty. 

It took him about three days to learn to eat what was given to him! Of course, being outside all day, learning to hunt rats and rabbits, the weight fell off him. His owner was away for about eight weeks plus, by the time she got back the dog was lean and fit. His muscles were hard and he was so much more energetic. 
When she arrived unexpectedly I was in the barn ratting with the dogs. I had few bales remaining and the dogs were doing a great job. She called out. "Hendrick, mummy's home, Hendrick come to mummy." 
He rushed out, jumped up so hos front feet were on her legs but before she could pick him up he was back in the barn waiting for me to move a bale. 

Poor woman was distraught that her dog was actually hunting. The fact they were bred to hunt badgers had passed her by. Kim told us that she took the dog to the vet who remarked on how good he was looking. 

Needless to say, it took her less time to get ho obese again than it did for him to loose the weight.


----------



## Foxhunter

* During the time I was with Margaret Miss Fleming became very ill. She had cancer of the stomach. I went home to see her and was so shocked when she came into the room. She was so thin and sallow amd pain written all over her face. 

I cried and said, "Why oh why have you tomsuffer this? You have always been such a good person you don't deserve it." 

She sat me took my hand and told me she was so grateful for having this illness as, since being diagnosed she had learned so much that she was grateful for it. Her only regret was that she wouldn't see the primroses in the spring. 

She died in the following March. I went home for the funeral amd was shocked that Margaret didn't also attend. 

Living in the next town I had to catch the bus over. I had a choice of getting there nearly an hour early or a few minutes late. I chose the former. Something made me get off the bus at the stables and I walked along the track then turned into the woods. In sheltered spots there were some very early primroses which I carefully picked. I tied them with a piece of grass and walked into the town and to the church. 

As the coffin was brougot in so I dropped the post on the top. Miss Fleming hadn't wanted any flowers but money to go to a charity she supported, the only wreath was from her sister and sister in law. 

Later Winnie, her sister, came to me and asked if I had put the primroses on the coffin. I admitted I had and apologised if it had offended. She smiled and said that Renee would have liked that as they were her favourite flowers.


----------



## GMA100

I'm loving all the stories! You should write a book! 

Keep it up! I always click on this thread as soon as I see it's been updated!


----------



## knightrider

Me too!


----------



## Foxhunter

* We had a mare come to be broken. The owner was an older woman who had bred her from her mare. She was to be broken. There were absolutely no problems with the mare, she was as kind as her owner and very obliging to want to please. There were no problems with her at all. 
The owner asked if I would rode her out on her own as she would have to do this with her. I did so with no problems at all. Then, the day before she was due to return to her owner (who had ridden her with us) I was coming back. The roads were always busy and on twisty parts I would ride in the centre of my side of the road so traffic couldn't cut in close to me to pass. I would pull into a gateway or drove to let them pass as soon as I could. 
There were three cars behind me and I pulled into a driveway facing the way of the traffic, the woman behind waited until I had the mare halted and drove steadily to overtake. A high hedge was either side of the drive and as I stood there so the gardener started up a lawnmower behind her. She jumped forward and the car, travelling very slowly, bumped into her. She wetnup and I bailed out landing on the car roof and sliding down over the back hitting my head on the bumper and then the ground. I was dizzy but saw the mare cantering up the road. Whilst I put my head down to shake the dizziness she fell over, she had broken her back leg. 

Majority of accidents could be avoided but this was just one of those things, I was off the road, the woman was driving slowly, the gardener never realised I was even there.


----------



## knightrider

Can't like that post. Such a sad story. I lost a horse to a car also--I let my brother ride my horse, he fell off, the horse was hit, hip shattered. It took me years to get over losing him.


----------



## Foxhunter

Knight rider - it is a fact of life, you have livestock you have deadsrock. 

I have just walked out into a field to find a horse dead, had horses die under me. It happens.


----------



## Foxhunter

* We had several hunter liveries and I would get them ready. Guy would hunt most Saturdays as would the livery owners. One thing I have always enjoyed is cleaning hunting boots. Doing them properly, boning them until they looked like patent leather. Somehow it became that they would leave their boots and have them cleaned ready to put on the next time they went out. 

One wet and windy Saturday I was fairly sure that they wouldn't hunt but, it was a good Meet so off they went. A good friend of mine was getting married and I wanted to go to the evening reception. I asked if they could get back earlier (Lynne was off that weekend) they assured me that they would just be out for an hour.

That never happened, they weren't back until nearly 7 p.m. Four horses to see to, their tack to wash off, me to have a bath and get changed. For me it would have been a different matter if they had had a good day hunting but they hadn't, and the reason they were so late was that they had stopped at a friend's and been drinking. 

I was furious and upset. I did the horses, washed the mud off the tack and left it hanging. It was so wet itnwasndripping, even under the saddle flaps was soaked. 

To add to my frustration they had removed their hunting coats and just dumped them. These all weighed a ton and were soaked right through. 
Their boots were just dumped and not treed up. I started to hand the jackets and then thought "Beggar them" and pushed the lot under the saddle racks. 

I went into the house at around 10 p.m. tired, angry and feeling sorry for myself. They were all still there drinking, I went to run a bath to find no hot water. The heater was on a timer and they had all bathed using up the hot water and the heater had clicked off before it had reheated the tank. 

I washed in cold water, cleaned my teeth and went to bed. 

On the Monday when Margaret came into the tackroom the pile of boots and jackets was still there. The tack was still wet. Margaret said, "Are those their things?" I said they were and expected her to tell me to hang them but she didn't. She just shrugged and took her tack to go ride. 

They were all hunting the following Saturday. I had the horses ready, plaited and tacked up. I knew they wouldn't be going out as their boots and coats were still in the same place where I had shoved them.

Oh boy, were they surprised! They greeted me happily, asked after their horses and went into the tackroom to get their boots and coats. They were shocked and asked me why I hadn't done their things. In no uncertain terms I told them that I did their things as a favour, I wasn't paid to do them and one good turn deserves another, of they couldn't do one for me then I wouldn't do their things. 

Guy was furious but Margaret did back me up and told them all that they had been selfish and thoughtless. 

They didn't have a leg to stand on and, after that they always asked me if I would do their boots and paid me to do them. 



Several things happened that culminated with me deciding to move on. Margaret was getting more and more bitchy riding a lot less, and if I took a day off and went home, I would be constantly criticised for any little thing. 
Stan was standing up to his father and I was bored with the same old things. 

I searched the Horse and Hound and saw a job advertised in another county and applied. I had an interview, got the job and handed in my notice.


----------



## Foxhunter

* All around the local area were big estates with vast houses (think Downton Abbey) much of the land had been sold. With one particular place, even during the war, the land had never been ploughed. A Dutch consortium bought the land when it came up for sale and the agricultural contractors were called in to do all the clearance work and to put it all under the plough. 
The clearance meant all the old hedges and all the trees were to be taken out and the whole area to be nothing but large fields put to cereals. 

(Luckily nowadays this would be stopped for conservation purposes) 

The first thing to go were the trees, beautiful oaks, some ver 300 years old, it went for timber. In one section there was a large pond, that had to be drained and filled. The lads set to digging a ditch to take the pond water away, in parts it was over eight feet in depth. Tim was driving the excavator. A couple of the lads were in the ditch doing something, when Tim opened up the last section. A wall of water went gushing down the ditch and two lads running ahead of it to a place where they could jump out whilst the rest of us were doubled up with laughter. 

The company held a blasting license and to remove the large stumps of the trees they were going to blast them out. All had gone well with several successfully cleared. One of the biggest was about 100 yards from the now drained pond. Instead of using the correct amount of dynamite, more had been saved from other jobs and was put around the trunk. We all got into the pond area and the stump was blasted. There was a deafening roar and we were heavily showered with dirt, grass, stones and bits of tree. It seemed to go on forever. 
We extricated ourselves from the mess and we're surprised to find a hole nearly as big as the pond. There was no sign of the trunk. Later it was found several hundred yards away across the road. 

When it came time to plough the company bought two new Ford tractors, they were, for the time, enormous. All four wheels the same size amd nearly six feet in height. The lads worked them 24/7 taking it in turns to plough. It took over two weeks to plough all the land up. 

It was so horrible to look at even when the crops were growing.


----------



## Foxhunter

* So, off I went tor an interview. Stan and his father, Jack drove me there. I had never been for an interview before so I wasn't sure what to expect. 

The place was in a beautiful part of the country, an area known as the Cotswolds. Great fox hunting country. The woman who owned the place Hunted and had steeplechasers. The place had been a farm but she had built all new stables, two yards with more stabling also in other older buildings. 

There was a largish farmhouse which had been renovated. In the lower stables there was a flat above the two large tack rooms. This was for two grooms. 

I was taken around the horses, mostly hunters in the bottom yard and youngsters in the higher one. Looking at the youngsters I absolutely fell in love with a bay gelding. He was a two year old and conformationally very correct. There was just something about this horse that I loved. 

I remember her opening the door and my response on seeing him was "WOW! What a beautiful horse." 

The head man Jerry, immediately said, "If you think he is good, see the next one."
We went into the adjoining stable to see a chestnut horse which, although very nice, didn't do anything for me. I said as much saying that if both were shown in the same class the bay would win hands down. 

I was introduced to Wendy who had been working there for over a year. She was asked to show me the flat. As we went up the stairs so she said, "I'm leaving, they don't know but I am and I don't want you to think it is because of you." 
I was a bit shocked at this but nothing I could do about it. 

I was asked to ride Murphy one of the hunters, a big bay horse rather nondescript. He had a sparkle in his eye and I wondered what it would lead to. I tacked him up and took him out to mount, he was being silly and kept moving so I just vaulted onto him. I rode him down the drive to the arena and once in there he decided he was a hunter and didn't need schooling! He dogged it at the gate,mspooked at nothing and when askedmto trot on he went into a bucking fit. It wasn't anything for him to be proud of, more a humping and threat than anything else. A couple of hard boots in the ribs and he decided that I meant it and behaved well after that. 

I was offered the position on the spot and accepted it. 

On my return I told Margaret I would work a months notice. It didn't go down very well but there was nothing she could do about it. 

I left after the month and again Stan drove me to the place with my things. He had taken a position on a large pig farm a couple of miles away. 
Wendy was still there when I started and hadn't handed in her notice. 

The flat was very basic but fine for our needs. There was a choice of having a sitting room and sharing a bedroom or, just two bedrooms. Whoever had designed the layout had kept thos in mind and so the built in wardrobe in the bedroom, divided in two, had one section that also opened into the sitting room. Wendy and I decided to share. I was informed by my new flat mate that it was no good even talking to her before eleven in the morning because she was very grumpy first thing. 

The first night was fine and I slept well but nearly died in the morning when a series of alarm clocks started to go off. The noise was unbelievable especially when one clock, an old fashioned one with two bells at the top started. What made it worse was Wendy had it in a bucket with some coins in it suspended in the air by her bed! 
I rushed around killing each one (there were at lease seven!) whilst Wendy slept through them all. 

I made her a coffe, shook her awake, went to the kitchen to drink my tea. I had to shake Wendy several times before dragging her from her bed. We went down, mucked out whilst Jerry fed. Once the youngsters were turned out we went to get breakfast before riding out on exercise. 
I made us a bacon sandwich which Wendy picked at. It wasn't worth talking to her as she just grunted something I couldn't understand. 

By the time we had finished morning work Wendy was in the land of the living! She was talking normally although she struck me as being rather sad. I didn't know it for sometime but she was severely depressed. This form of illness wasn't talked about at the time and it was only after I talked to a friend's husband who was a doctor, did I learn what it was. 

The owner had four hunters one, Hal, had been her first horse though she had ridden all her life on ponies, the others were all Irish horses. The other horses in work were the racehorses prior to going off into race training. Jerry usually rode the racehorses whilst Wendy and I rode the hunters. I wasmsure Jerry thought neither of us could manage the racehorses though I thought him a not very good rider- typical of most race riders. 

Life soon fell into a routine. It was a lot easier than at Margaret's.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Although I never went out hunting much I did most of the second horse work. This involved taking a horse to the Meet, returning home, getting a second horse and taking that to wherever hounds had been heading for - with hopes of finding them - and swapping horses so the boss had a fresh horse for the latter part of the day. 

I did this because Wendy couldn't drive. I had driven a Land Rover and trailer before but in no way was I experienced. Much of this was in very rural lanes, narrow and twisty. I also never knew the country at all. 

One changeover was some distance from home. The trailer was a big one, took three horses, two horses facing forward and a third facing to the back (bumper pull) The boss asked if I would take someone's horse back as it had pulled a shoe and was lame. This was loaded from the front.
One of the foot followers informed me that if I turned left along a farm track it would cut about 4 miles from my trip home. I turned left. What I hadn't been told was the track divided. I chose the right which was wrong. I ended up in a yard with two barns filled with cattle. The mud surrounding and between these barns was deep. Nothing for it, I had to turn around. Thereby laid a problem, I had never mastered reversing a trailer. 
I cannot say how long it took me nor how many times I jackknifed the trailer. I do know that in the end I was so frustrated I got out and threw mud at the bellowing cattle who obviously thought a human meant feed. To me it sounded as if they were laughing at me. It didn't help get the trailer around but it sure helped my frustration! 

Eventually I got myself and trailer extricated and finally arrived home. I had broken both tail lights on the Land Rover. 

That was it as far as I was concerned and I was going to learn to reverse. Every afternoon I would hitch up and practise about the yards. I learned that the moment the trailer began to turn to put on the opposite lock, I could revise it straight up or down hill, around corners in either direction and had no problem getting it back into the barn, a job Jerry had done previously and had taken many attempts to do. I prided myself I could do it in two shunts.


----------



## boots

Thank you, thank you, @Foxhunter, for sharing your memories with us.


----------



## Foxhunter

* When the hunting season was over and the racehorses home for sir summer break there wasn't a lot to do about the place. I asked the boss if I could take Acer, the two year old, to a local show and ahow him in the Hunter Class, in hand. She thought it a good idea and Jerry decided to show the chestnut. I worked both horses in teaching them what was wanted of them although I wasn't to pleased to have both horses in the same class.
On the day we loaded them both and drove the short distance to the show. Both looked really good. Acer behaved impeccably and won, he went on to win the Championship for in hand horses. Good day. 

This fired up the boss and she was all for going to the big shows. Acer won most times, he stood reserve champion at a couple which was great as we were against then professionals. The chestnut was always way down the line. 

Acer was a great character. All the fencing was post and rails set at 4'6" around all the fields. Between two field there was a stream that had run for years creating a steep sided crevice which was railed off. Trees grew on the banks. I loved that place, it was home to a little near black vixen and for a while, her three cubs. As foxes do, she moved them from place to place. She got to know me and would ignore me after checking I was the right person. If I sat quietly where she was laid up she would allow the cubs to come out and frolic in the sun. Naughtily I would often take some meat with me and throw it to her and the cubs. 

One day I went out to bring innthe two 'boys' and Acer wasn't there. I could see all around the field and he wasn't in there. I caught the chestnut and he whinnied to be replied to by Acer who was down in the stream. 
I went back to the stables to get a hammer to remove the rails, when I got back Acer was at the gate. He had jumped in and then back out. Coming out the rails were well over five feet, more like six, but he had cleared them. 

(_Just realised that when I went for the interview the two horses were long yearlings, not two years old)_

Hal the favourite huntermwasnt very sound, he had a touch of pedal osteitis and also arthritis in his joints. He was sound as a bell out with hounds and loved it but, he was well cared for and only Hunted on special occasions. 

The boss went out and bought a new horse. She collected it herself and on arrival we unloaded it. She held him and asked what we thought. Jerry was singing its praises, I was not at all impressed. When asked I said, "He looks OK." That wasn't good enough and I was asked what I really thought. My reply was that I just didn't like him. I was asked why and my answer was that I thought he was ungenerous and nappy. 

This was laughed at by Jerry and the boss. When told thenhorse's name was Whippy, I just retorted that was probably because he would whip around for no reason. 

I was born with a gut instinct that I learned the hard way to listen to and nothing could make me like this horse. Jerry rode him the first day and couldn't get him to the front, on the one occasion he did sure enough the horse whipped around nearly depositing Jerry (who always rode with a short stirrup) on the road. After that it was my 'pleasure' to ride him each day. 

My gut feeling had been right. He was nappy and mean. He would often try to kick a person or another horse and in the field was an out and out bully. He wasn't boss but would hammer anything below him in pecking order. When some walkers left a gate open he got in with the mares and foals and immediately went for one of the fillies. Fortunately her dam was there and gave Whippy a darn good lesson in horse manners. He had lumps and bumps and pieces missing from her response. I wasn't at all sorry for him.

Out Cubbing (when young hounds are taught the rules of Fox Hunting and cubs are taught to scatter) Whippy was horrid. If I went to stand on point he would nap amd rear, plunge and generally do all he could to get his own way. He never did with me, all it got him was a wallop amd spurs furked into his sides. He did get a bit better as time wore on but only with me. 

The boss Hunted him a couple of times amd wasn't at all impressed. One day I took her second horse out and when we swapped she told me to advertise Whippy and have him gone. He had refused to go through a small shallow stream no matter what. That was it for her and she did have the grace to say, "Next time I go buy a horse you are coming with me." 

Someone bought Whippy quite cheaply - the flags were hung out when he left.


----------



## Foxhunter

*I liked Wendy and was good for her. She was badly depressed but every now and then I would see the true person she was. 

She had ridden as a child and then went to work for the Hunt Kennels for a couple of seasons. During this time she was with a lot of others and they worked hard and played hard. There was a local lad who kept asking her out but she didn't fancy him so kept turning him down. 
Wanting a change she took a job doing hunters was across the country. She was on her own, didn't drive and found it very lonely. This boy would travel to see her and they became a couple. She then moved back into the same area as the Hunt she had worked for. 

She still didn't drive and wouldmget herself into a heck of a state before a driving lesson to the point she had to have a Valium to calm her nerves down. 
Me, liking a challenge wouldmtake her out into the fields in the Land Rover and make her drive all over the place, mainly in reverse. 

The moment I met her boyfriend I didn't like him at all. He was neither fair nor ginger haired, had the pale skin of a red head and had fat pudgy fingers. Wendy totally relied on him to get out of the place and he treated her like nothing. He would say he would take her to the cinema on Tuesday and not turn up but come the following evening when she wouldn't be ready swearing he had said Wednesday. Henwouldnt wait for her to get changed just drive off leaving her in tears and saying it was her fault. 

Some weekends the lads Stan had worked with wouldmcome for the weekend and on this occasion they had all turned up. Wendy was meant to go out with Vince but again he hadn't shown so we all forced her to come with us. Once out she was a different person, a great laugh and fitted in well with us all. One lad was very keen on her but she wouldn't entertain anyone other than Vince. 
When we got back Vince was sat in his car waiting. 
He started to berate her for going out when he was coming but it didn't wash and Wendy had had enough booze not to care! 

We all went into the flat and I was making hot drinks and sandwiches for everyone. I asked Vince what he wanted. He was sulking and not joining in the fun which led to the lads taking the mickey out of him. His tuned his nose up at what I had to offer and just too me to put anything in it so, I did. I carefully cut the back out of the cereal packet and placed it between two slices of bread. He took a bite and the bread slid off the cardboard, everyone laughed so he got up and stormed out. 

I now had two projects to work on. The first was to split him and Wendy up amd the second was to get Stan to break off our engagement. The latter didn't work and I realised that he never would. I knew it would never work between us and I had never wanted to wed. The end came one evening, we started an argument over something petty. I was actually cleaning the oven at the time amd he went on and on and on. I hate nagging. I do enjoy a good argument as long as it gets over and done with and forgotten. Hencould never do that. In the end I stood up and told him to let it be or he would be sorry. He didn't so I threw all the filthy black oven water over him. 

That did it. I returned his ring. 

Wendy did leave at the end of that season she went back to her parents still,depressed and unable to drive. 

Enter into the scene Judy, my new work mate.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I am not particularly superstitious bar one thing - wearing or using anything new when riding in a competition or hunting. 

The boss had been over to Eire to hunt with two or three packs. She had taken her own saddles. Out with one pack she had jumped something and caught her foot/leg on a tree and buckled her stirrup and torn the stirrup leather. She had bought a new pair of leathers and irons and brought them when she came to go hunting. She told me to put them on her saddle. I told her that the leathers needed oiling but she insisted. I said that it was unlucky to have something new and she told me to stop being superstitious. 

I caught up,with hounds with second horse later that day, I couldn't see the boss amd then someone pointed her out to me. Well, she was unrecognisable as was Fred the horse she was riding. They had jumped a drystone wall into plough, Fred had fallen on landing in the deep mud and had rolled over her. No damage done but both were filthy with half an inch of mud caked all over. 

I know I was smiling as I rode up - all she said was, "If you say one word you're fired!"


----------



## Foxhunter

* The boss heard about a young horse for sale so we went to look at him. He was big, mature for a 4 year old and very well started. Before deciding we took him to a Hunter Trial (cross country) and he did exceptionally well. He looked carefully, sorted himself out and popped whatever he was pointed at. To add to the karma he was Hal, a good omen if the old Hal was anything to go by. 

I rode him all summer getting him ready for the hunting season. I loved that horse.

I started to break the two boys during the winter. It was a bit off and on as we had a very cold spell and we couldn't ride out for ice on the roads. The ground was so rutted that the horses stayed in. We put the straw manure across the top yard and lunged to exercise them - even the arena was solid. 

A bit of a thaw came and we rode the hunters out. Otmwas a bit dodgey in many places where the weak sun hadn't reached but the horses were pleased to be put and about. 

Jerry told me to longrein the two boys out, imwas against it but he was insistent. 

I tacked up the bay and set off. He was a big horse, a good 16.2 and very solid. He was on his toes and looking at everything. I drove him up the road to the village I could drive in a circle around the village and return back but, as we went up the steep hill he started to be a real pain and stupid. I took him into a ploughed field to take him around the stubble left around the edge. When he spooked sideways several feet ending in the plough so I decided to take the wind out of his sails and lunge him. 

After about twenty minutes of hard work I started to drive him back down the hill to the village. I was heading back to the gate when a pheasant flew up, wings whirling and that shrieking noise they make. Acer just shot forward. I was still in the plough and in half running and half being dragged, I lost my boots. 
We went down the hill at a good fast canter, how he didn't fall on the slippery road I don't know. Going back through the village my strides were about 12 feet in length. I was aware that I was barefoot but determined that I would not let go. There wasn't room to turn him. 
We covered the distance in a fast time. Acer turned into the drive, I was swung wide and knocked over the dustbins Jerry had put out. They rattled and banged and Acer sped up. We went through the bottom yard and up to his. He went strainght into hos stable and started eating his hay. 
I was leaning against his quarters heaving, trying to get my breath back. My nose was running, eyes streaming, feet bleeding and my knees feeling weak. 

Jerry came storming into the doorway and started yelling at me about never bringing a horse back at that pace. I couldn't speak. I lifted a foot and showed him but he still went on and on. Anyone would have thought I had been practising for a chariot race and had been urging Acer on. 

I went up to the flat to see to my feet and put on another pair of boots. I absolutely refused to drive the chestnut out and told Jerry to do it himself. Walking was very painful for several days.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I rode the two boys away, they were both fine whether in company or alone. Jerry was still insistent that the chestnut was the better of the two. So, one day he said he would ride with me. 
As I said Jerry rode short, he was typical of someone who had ridden racehorses , short stirrups, never any rein contact and moving hands with bridged reins from side to side. 

When I rode youngsters away I am never very nice to them in that I do not play it softly softly bit will hard pat them all over, flap my legs so they get use to the untoward. This was just as well with someone like Jerry going to rode them! 

We went out and about, the horses behaved impeccably. I know Jerry was surprised at how well they were going but he would never give a compliment. 

On our way back from the village he wanted to go into one of our fields to see how the work was going, there were three fields running horizontally across the hill. These were being fenced off with post and rails after a ditch had been dug and other work done. 

We went in through the open gate and Jerry started to canter across the field towards the ditch and hedge. The hedge wasn't very high, under 3' the ditch about the same in width. I knew what he was going to do! He charged at the obstacle using speed to get him over, not good forma youngster, I could see the chestnut slamming on the brakes. I took Acer to the side and let him look and jut popped over the lot in his stride. Of course I did have the advantage of being on a horse that jumped for the fun of it but all the same Jerry couldn't get hos horse over it. 

A couple of days later Wendy rode Acer and I the chestnut. I did show him what it was and I did jump him from the other side first but he was soon happy to pop it back and forth. Next time Jerry rode Acer and I the other, we went into the field, I took the lead and just cantered up to the ditch and popped it. Acer ballooned over it and bucked on landing sending Jerry up his neck. I said nothing, just smiled.

Jerry was a nice enough chap but was under his wife's rule. She was non horsey and really hated them. They had a sone of about eight who was t allowed to do anything she considered risky let alone dangerous. This included riding a bike, climbing up the hay and straw bales let alone ride a horse. 
I felt sorry for the lad as he was a lively chap and made to stay indoors most of the time. 

I taught him to rode his bike out of sight of his mother and when she found out and spoke to me about it I told her a few home truths, 

Jerry hated to relinquish any contro over the work but, he and family were going off to a wedding for the weekend. He left miles of lists, nagged us about this that and the other and drove Wendy and I bonkers. 

Until I moved to this job I had never had to cook for myself. Wendy wasn't really eating so, any meals were down to me. This Friday night I decided to make a mac cheese. Simple, how could anyone go wrong with Mac cheese? 
Me! 
I cooked the pasta as per instructions, had grated the cheese and made the sauce. Now, my mother made great Mac cheese she would always put tinned tomatoes at the bottom of the dish. So, I put the tomatoes in the dish, stirred th pasta into the sauce and put on top of the tomatoes and into the oven. 
It bubbled up and went a nice brown on the top - looked great. Unfortunately I hadn't drained the pasts so it was just one runny mess. 
I dohed us up a bowl each but it really looked like a bowl of tapeworms in a pile of puke. 
Wendy and I tried but we couldn't eat it so put the bowls on the floor by the side of our chairs. 

Jerry came across before leaving to issue more instructions. I saw him keep looking down and finally he asked what was innthe bowls. I told him "Mac cheese, want some?" That was it, he was gone.

We didn't burn the place down whilst he was away not kill off any of the horses.


----------



## Foxhunter

* One of the racehorses had a fall in a (jump) race and was lame in his shoulder. This was in the days before there were X-ray machines big enough for a horse. He came home and was on stable rest. 
This was a clipped horse, fog, hard muscled amd clipped out. This was durimg the very cold spell and yet Jerry insisted that the horse was being 'roughed off' so could only have one thin jute rug on. Poor Myth was so cold, his coat was dull and he was miserable. I ended up having a heck of a row with Jerry over it. It wasn't that there were t enough blankets to put on him, there were plenty. 

I ended up with getting my way. The horse was lame, vet instructions was to box rest for at least eight weeks, then hand walking. When the vet called about something else I asked him about keeping the horse warm amd he said it was imperative that he was as shivering weight he didn't have on him wasn't going to do him any good. I didn't say anything to Jerry but I did poke my tongue out at him!

After the eight weeks Box rest Myth was turned out into the old bull pen. This was an area about 30' x 30' half had a roof and a gate to close them in if necessary otherwise they had room to move around but not enough to do any harm 
For a while he seemed to get a bit sounder, the decision was made to turn him out, he was in a small paddock and got lamer and lamer. He was turned out in a big pasture with the other racehorses now home for their summer rest. Although more or less three legged when I went out to check them one morning Myth wasn't there. He had jumped out over 4'6" rails and then a gate and was in with the brood mares and foals. He was quite happy with them and proved a good uncle to the foals. He stayed there for a while and then went to the Hunt Kennels to feed the hounds. 

I was curious as to what was going on with his shoulder and went to see what had actually happened. He had broken the ball jount of his shoulder and the biggest part was about the size of a pea. Disease had set in and was spreading up the shoulder blade. No way would he have ever come sound.


----------



## anndankev

Glad you were there, you cared for him, and cared about him. He was warm, was able to stay where he was content, and met a good end.

Your stories are so interesting, and told with great humor. Thank you.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I was taught to always be open minded and to learn by watching others and from mistakes made. My grandmother would say, "You can learn from any idiot - even if it is how not to do something!" 

One of the brood mares was going off to stud. A transporter was taking her. He backed the horsebox into the lower yard and I went to load her. She absolutely refused to go up the ramp. Jerry and the driver put a line behind her but it made her worse. 

The farrier was there at the time and after several minutes he walked over, we stopped the strong arm tactics. The farrier walked into the horsebox, came out carrying a load of straw, sprinkled it on the ramp and the mare walked in. A little trick I have never forgotten and has worked more than once. 

Judy had moved in and proved to be greatly lacking in the humour department. Her father was as dominant to her as Jack was to Stan. I didn't dislike Judy, just found her very hard work. 

She wasn't experienced with fit horses like these and again I was doing most of the riding. A friend of the boss had sent along a filly to be ridden away. Nice filly but very temperamental. Judy was riding Elfin, a TB home bred that I had started eventing. We were riding them in the field across the road from the driveway. Elfin was getting fed up with her 'schooling' and I knew he was going to drop her. I told her to take him in and my parting words were, "Don't turn him out until I have finished." 

Next thing she turns him out in the field by the stables. He takes off galloping down to the bottom the filly tried to jump forward and towards the hedge, I correct her and ride her on. Next time past that point she dogs it and I knew she was going to go up. Sure enough, she did. I knew she was past the point of no return and baled out, landing on my feet and still holding a rein, unfortunately she slipped on a cow pat twisted and came over on top of me. I ended up with cracked ribs and three fractured vertebrae. 

Judy had 'forgotten' what I had said.


----------



## knightrider

Awww, not a happy ending to that story. How long did it take before you were back riding? Did you ever get back to the level you were at before the accident? Did you have some fear after that?


----------



## Foxhunter

* _Getting things in the right chronological order is not so easy! The tale below happened in the spring before the mare incident. _

Elfin was very bold, he would love the cross country and I was also a bit of a nutter so we got on well and took many fences as 'fliers' rather than being a bit more steady.

I was at a course where there were three steps down, never jumped the likes with Elfin before. I did steady up and came in at a trot. He hesitated on the edge of the top one and I booted him, he just launched and tried to jump all three as one, he fell having caught his back legs on the bottom step, we both rolled over and ended up with cracked ribs and bruising galore! 

Having recovered from that I had taken Elphin to another event. He did a good dressage and clear show jumping. The cross country was testing but fair. 
Towards the end of the course there was a drop fence, three railway sleepers on the edge of an old quarry, you landed from the jump on the ledge, slid down the bank turned left at the bottom and over a spread fence. 
Trees had grown in the quarry so you were also jumping from light into dark. 

Elphin was going so well, he was looking at the jumps amd listening to me. However, I was worried about taking another bad fall if he over jumped. 
We came over a hedge and across a field towards the drop. I stopped riding and Elphin was dithering unsure of what was next. I had every excuse in my head as to why I could pull up and not loose face. The main one being 'I didn't want to overface him after his accident.' 

We went towards the drop when I saw Margaret standing by the people watching. I swore in my head, picked up a good contact, put my legs on, came back to amsteong trot, popped the sleepers, went down the bank, swung around the corner and over the next. 
After I had untracked and Judy was leading him around tomcool off I ran back to see Margaret only to find it was a stranger! 

My fear of Margaret's wrath at not riding a fence correctly was greater than damaging myself! 

I stayed at work after the filly incident, I had to wear a brace for several weeks, Jerry's attitude to my being there and unable to do much was terrible and so I decided to leave amd take a break for a while. 

I handed in my notice and went home.


----------



## Foxhunter

* My rememberer got into gear and a couple of experiences I had gerfotten! 


I never had a lot of chances to really Fox Hunt only second horse work. One horse that was not up to jump racing the boss decided to Point to Point him. To do this a horse has to follow hounds at least eight times to qualify.

This horse was not exactly an easy horse having been in jump race training for several years. I had the pleasure of taking him out with hounds. The first day wasn't so bad, it was a quiet day with not a lot of scent and only a couple of short runs. Second time out he was super excited and throwing himself about all over the place. 
With horses like this there are basically two things to do, either get to the front and stay there or, follow way behind, taking your own line. I tried the latter but he was throwing himself all over the place and just not using the few brain cells he had so, I went with the first flight. We had several near misses with control!

The Hunt went out five days a week so I decided to get him qualified as soon as I could and took him out Monday, Tuesday, Wendnesday and Friday. Two of those days were fast, he settled after that and although not the best horse I have ever ridden to hounds, was brave and bold. Henwas sold with his qualification certificate before we Point to Pointed him. 

Another time the Hunt ended up coming across the farm, Murphy was ready for second horse. The boss rode into the yard and swapped Fred for Murphy and as I was changed ready to take Murphy out, the boss told me they were very quiet and to bring young Hal out for a couple of hours. 

Hounds were in the copse across the road, crashing around and not doing much. As I mounted so I saw Binky, the donkey, trotting up the hedge line of the home field. His head was down, ears pricked looking at something. I saw the hunted fox trotting tight to the hedge. He came up the drive, across the yard into the hay barn where he curled up and went to sleep! 

Instead of just riding down the drive and across the road to join the field I decided to go up across the fields so I could pop a few hedges. Hal was bold and pinged them all. I was in the last fields (where Jerry had failed to jump) the hedge at the top wasn't terribly big, the landing downhill. The middle hedge was way bigger and a steeper landing but Hal was loving it. Over the second I slipped my reins shoved my feet forward and sat well back as we descended. No problem. I patted him as I gathered my reins, popped the hedge and ditch and another low hedge onto the verge across the road into plough alongside the boss. I had no more than stoppedmwhen two people rode up and said excitedly "Well done! You've won the bet!" 
I hadn't a clue what they were talking about - more people congratulated me. The boss looked at me and asked which way I had come. I told her down across Three Fields. She looked across the road and asked, "Over the middle hedge?"
"Yes," I replied thinking I was going to get a rollicking. 
She just laughed and told me that there was £100 bet that no one could come down over all the hedges without falling. I knew nothing about it. A Hunt Memeber had laid on the ground having fallen at the middle hedge and announced that if anyone could jump that hedge without falling he would pay them £100. Several had tried and all had failed. 

To be truthful, had I known about it I would never had tried!


----------



## Foxhunter

_Having written the above I realise I have omitted several incidents which I will tell about later. As I said earlier I find it hard to get the chronological order correct and having written about several in the forum posts, not sure it you want to read them again._


----------



## Cordillera Cowboy

Foxhunter said:


> _Having written the above I realise I have omitted several incidents which I will tell about later. As I said earlier I find it hard to get the chronological order correct and having written about several in the forum posts, not sure it you want to read them again._


 
Please do write them here. Even if some have seen them before, it's good to have all of your stories collected here in one place.


----------



## egrogan

^^ditto!


----------



## Foxhunter

* The boss would often hunt with other packs further up country. 
I drove two horses to Derbyshire so she could have a day out with the Quorn - one of the renowned hunts in the U.K. The Meet was at a pub and moved off spot on 11 o'clock. At the Meet I saw a most beautiful woman on a lovely bay horse. The pair were immaculate in their turn out and she was riding sidesaddle. At the time very few people rode sodesaddle and my immediate thought was that she would swap saddles as they moved off but none of it. She was in the first filight jumping any and every fence as they came to it. 

We were told that second horses would be at a certain pub at 1 o'clock. All I had to do was follow others. We watched hounds whilst they were in sight and hung about chatting. Near the time we started to go to the swap place when there was a call changing the meeting place. 
We were all parked up in a lane second horses taken out the horseboxes, girths tightened and checked over. At about two minutes to one hounds came down the road with the field following. 

All sorts of cars pulled up, mostly expensive ones, Bentlys and Rolls Royces. Out the boot of these cars hot food and cups of soup were handed to their riders. Ten minutes later second horses were mounted and off they went. The woman I mentioned had ridden past and the only sign she had been hunting were a few flecks of mud on her apron. These were brushed off and she mounted another equally beautiful horse and off they went. 

On another occasion I again took the horses to Derbyshire this time to go out with the Meynell. The first time we went out I was second horsing with young Hal. Hounds were running hard when we found them. Fo me hearing a pack of hounds in full cry is pure music and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. 

A lad who was also second horsing set off after the field. We jumped a couple of hedges and then his horse, going across an open field hit a hole and went down. The lad rolled to the side and I went off and caught his horse bringing it back to him. He was in a lot of pai and had broken hos collar bone. He didn't want to miss out so, I removed his stock, fashioned a sling, somehow got him back on his horse and off we went. 

Later, towards the end of the season we went back to the Meynell to take part in a filming for the programme Upstairs Downstairs, a period drama that ran for years. 

We all had to wear period costumes, the boss was sidesaddle on Murphy and the Hunt staff in the old fashioned hunting coats. Itmwasmall a lot of hanging around whilst the directors issued orders. Eventually hounds moved off from a very grand house, across parkland and over a bridge across a river. 

The actors all had stand ins. The story was that the son's wife who was no rider, got run away with and took a bad fall over a gate. The woman who was doing the stunt work, jumped the gate, the horse clipped it and down they went. Only thing was the cameras were not in the right place. She had dislocated her shoulder and was taken off to ER 
. 
The boss kindly offered my services which I didn't mind at all but, and it was a big BUT I just couldn't fall off whilst riding sodesaddle apart from going over the off side and that was way to risky as I would land flat on my back. In the end I unscrewed the leaping head and simple after that. 

For my efforts I was awarded £5, tight beggars!


----------



## Foxhunter

* I applied for a job teaching at a riding school. I went for an interview and wasn't impressed by the owner and had decided that if I was offered the position I wouldn't take it. 

I was staying with a friend who lived a few miles away. As I was careless I had to get a train back. She was about to take me to the station whenone of her livery owners arrived. I was introduced to Bill Cuddon. There was an instant connection between the two of us. I haven't a clue why but something was there. 

Whe I said, "Nice to meet you Bill." I was immediately corrected and told that all livery owners were to be called Mr or Mrs. I really couldn't believe it. Agreed a Bill was several years older than me but I was t a teenager.

So, Bill gave me a lift back to my friend's, he lived just down the road so it wasn't inconvenient. We stopped at a wine bar on the way and Bill persuaded me to take the position so, when offered I accepted. 

I had a caravan to live in, this was parked in the back garden. It was not the best, had electricity and water but Ididnt have a loo and had to use the one attached to the house just inside the back door. There was a small room opposite which had been decked out as a bedroom. It just about held a single bed. A tiny wash basin in the corner. E bed had two drawers under it and the wardrobe was in the hallway blocking off the access to the main house. This was for a working pupil. 

The whole place stank of cats pee. I thought that the stable cats had been going in there I then found out that she had two Persian cats that were not allowed out and their litter trays were the other side of the door. 

Not having a bathroom in the caravan I was told that once a week I could go into the house and have a bath. Big deal. First time I went in there I saw the over filled litter trays and in the bath there were several dirty nappies (diapers) from her three year old son. 

I was also told to keep away from the GSD ***** as she was a guard dog and viscous. Well, poor dog was only just over a year old, she did bark a lot but from frustration. Never exercised and either chained or shut in. I could bear it and soon that dog was 'mine' I would take her out across the fields and started to train her all without the owner knowing. 

This place could well have been a gold mine. The area was expensive being in the computer belt. The main stable block was the old coaching stables, three standing stalls and a loose bos with hay storage above. Several stables, all prefab wood, had been built. There was a row behind the old block, more to one side and another row on the slope. 

There were about ten school horses and ponies the rest liveries, some horse and some ponies. 

There were two sort of arenas up a slope by the fields, no real surface on them but they were enclosed. 

She had inherited it all from her mother and I was quickly told that her mother had been an alcoholic- probably true as the inherited animals were all named after drinks! They had originally owned the big hous at the top of the hill but the mother had sold it and moved into the lodge. This was obviously a cause of annoyance to her as she thought she should be lady of the manor.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I was shocked at how the place was run. The husband worked in town and left for his office early every morning. I was up amd mucking out before she was outside. I was t allowed to feed anything and any bedding I used had to be listed. 

As the gated to the stables were locked it would have been impossible for me to get started unless I went across the lawn and down over the muck heap. She had a small sone around two or three. He was a nice little boy but she had no time for him. He would ask to go to the loo and she would delay it until he had had an accident. It didn't take me long to realise that she was lazy. Her house was a mess, when I went to have my weekly bath there were dirty nappies just thrown in the bath tub. I think she was well shocked when I told her to clean them up rather than me doing it. 

I was supposed to get my meals provided. That was totally farcical. Having mucked out twenty plus stables I would go in for breakfast and find two pieces of toast in the toaster having been cooked when her husband left for work. 

Main meal was at lunch time. If breakfast was bad this was even worse! Every meal was covered in a sauce of some description or the other. When parted to see what was under all you could find was black where it had all been incinerated. The oven was blamed for this but potatoes are cooked on the top of the stove as with all other veggies (mostly) how she could burn it all I could only guess that she cooked it and placed it in the oven then to cover her mess up she covered it in a sauce. 

That was it as far as meals went, there was no tea or supper of any description. I was Ok as I could cook something in the caravan but the working pupil had nothing. 

Bill and I had become an item, it was so funny as he would arrive in the evening to see his horse, Willie, and I would greet him by saying, "Good evening Mr Cuddon." When he was spending most nights with me in the caravan. He would park his car at the top of the road and walk down. Two girls who lived very close by would come down first thing before school to muck their ponies out, Penny and Caroline. I liked them both. He had seen Bill's car parked up amd had seen him walking back up the hill but they never said a word to her. The three of us would get the giggles when Bill went to hang Willie's hay net and she would insist on helping him amd whilst doing so would rub herself up against Bill in a sexual way. Bill would look across at us and pull a funny face which made us laugh even more. 

Several of the liveries were monied people and she would be so smarmy when talking to them. One girl of about ten was a spoilt brat and when I did something for her and she didn't say thank you, I pulled her up on it. Later I was reprimanded for this and told that I was to do as the child wanted or else. I told her that I would take the or else as I wasn't a slave to anyone. 

On a Monday the stables were closed to everyone. I would go to Bill's place and Elaine, the working pupil would go home. Her mother would come to collect her and bring her back Monday evening. 

I knew that the only horses that were mucked out on the Monday was her colt and brood mare. Nothing else had a thing down to them and always on a Monday the water buckets were empty and kicked about the stables. I decided to stay one Sunday but never told her. Around 10 a.m. She finally appeared, she threw a wad of hay to each horse and went back to the house. I watched all day and come mid afternoon she did the same again, no horse was watered or given hard food, if their rugs were crooked, tough. 

I could see that she was in her sitting room watching TV. 

I was allowed to t ache the children that were learning to ride on the school ponies, liveries were taught by her - all except Penny who for some reason was disliked and her pony, Copper, was fed rotten dusty hay, and the smallest corn ration. When Penny had booked a lesson there was always an excuse to not take her. I got fed up with the unfairness and would take Penny for a lesson in my own time. She came on in leaps and bounds and when competing did well. Soon Caroline joined us and other liveries were asking for a lesson with me. This didn't go down at all well even though the children were all doing well at shows which was a good advert for the stables. 

There was a dun horse of about 15 hands, Tom. His owner never came to see or ride him and when I asked I was told that the horse was plain dangerous. I couldn't see ot as he had a kind eye and had never offered anything untoward. I said I would ride him and quite honestly he was a delight. Sure, he did try to nap and when I cantered him he put in a couple of good bucks but as soon as he knew I wasn't going to get off and all it earned him was a whack and a boot, he settled well. 

I wanted to see what he was like jumping and asked her if she would come up to watch, safety reasons in case I fell. She refused so Elaine would be there. Tom had a big jump and loved it. He was soon going around a four feet course with relish. 
His owner arrived one Saturday with her fiancé and said that she wanted to sell Tom as they were getting married and emigrating to NZ. I will never forget her saying, "You will never sell Tom, he is a danger and the only thing for him is to hang him on a hook." 

I was furious. I had been riding him with no bother, escorting rides and taking lead reins from him with no problems at all. The owner was offered £50 for him which infuriated me. Meat price at that time would have been around three times that. 

I stepped in and said I would sell him for her. We agreed a price £300 and anything over that we would split fifty fifty. 

I took Tom to a local show held on a Bank Holiday Monday. The gates were locked as I knew they would be, I had Tom's tack in the caravan and took him out via one of the field gates. Penny and Caroline did the same. 

I won the open jumping class and came third in a hunter class, I was also placed in a speed class. I advertised Tom in a local paper and he was sold the next day subject to vet. I was paid £750 for him which was a lot back then. I called the owner and told her. She came down the following weekend and we went to the pub for lunch. I handed over all the cash and she gave me £400 for my efforts. 
When they dropped me back at the stables she more or less demanded a share of the money, like an idiot I had told her what he had sold for amd she had the audacity to say it was only because of her encouraging me to ride him that he had done any good. 

Needless to say she never got a penny other than his livery money.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I guess I had been working for around six months. We had had several working pupils but I told their parents to find somewhere better. They never got to rode much, never given lessons and treated very badly. If it hadn't been for Bill I would have left after the first couple of weeks. 

I guess on top of that I looked on it as a challenge to get the better of this woman.

There was a doctor who came for private lessons, he was rather suave and thought he was the bees knees and cats whiskers rolled into one. Needless to say I didn't like him at all. He had private lessons with the boss and during this time no one was allowed to go up to the fields or use the other arena. 

I had a rode of novice children one afternoon. I was going to take them in the arena but the doctor called and said he wanted a lesson so i was told to take them out. This would have been fine but as we were coming home so there was a bad car wreck immediately behind us. Most of the ponies used this as an excuse and took off. Several of the children fell off more shaken than hurt. One girl had some nasty grazes down her arm. 
Most of the ponies arrived back before the riders. When I got back with them the only ones who had come to help were Penny and another girl. 
The doctor told the grazed child to stop making a fuss, which was totally uncalled for amd she wasn't making a big deal of her injuries. 

A couple of days later he was booked in for another private lesson. The boss was off with a migraine and asked me to call him to cancel. 

I didn't !

When he arrived I told him I would be taking him. Henwas surprised but agreed. The day was warm and sunny, he asked if I minded if he took his shirt off tomget some sun. I really didn't give two hoots but had a feeling it was to impress me with his six pack. 

He was riding his usual horse a grey mare thatnwas wise to the world. He really thought he was it on a horse and obviously had never been made to really work hard. I had him trotting around without stirrups and he proved to have very little balance. 

I knew the mare would take advantage if not corrected by me - one word was enough for her to comply no matter what. I saw her doing little things like cutting the corners more and more. Oh dear, so sorry, I forgot to close the gate! She finally dived out the arena and charged down the track leaving her rider deposited on the gravel track. You should have heard thenfuss he made and I took great delight in telling his to stop making a fuss and acting like a baby. What gave me even greater delight was pouring peroxide over his grazes! 

I thought I would get sacked for this, I did get a telling off but that was all. 

Eventually I had had enough. I handed in my notice and decided to move in with Bill and get some other work. 

I gave her a months notice and a week after I had I woke to hear the horse's restless and noisy. I wasn't at all sure what was going on. I pulled on a dressing gown and some shoes and went across the lawn to investigate. I thought it might be someone gpbreaking into the tackroom but the door was closed. All the horses were hanging out their stables ears pricked and alert. 

I went onto the old block. The brood mare was in the loose box and three of the school ponies who were tethered in standing stalls were all stretched back as far as they could go. 

Something was wrong but I didn't know what, certainly nothing I could see. 

At the back of the old block was an 'L' shaped line of stables going the length of the old block back amd one side. At the back of the old stables was a lean to under which was stored straw bales. At I walked along the side so these horses were even more restless, as I went around the corner there was a sudden whoosh and the straw was alight with flame shooting up through the wooden roof. 

Instinctively I started to let the horses out of the stables, I just opened the doors and let them go. As I got nearer the fire so I realised that my nylon dressing gown was melting. I ran across the lawn and pulled on jeans and a sweater. I ran to the house banging and screaming, eventually he looked out and asked what was going on. I told him the stables were on fire and to call the fire service. I ran to a trough and tipped a coup,e of buckets of water over me. I had grabbed a jacket and I used this to throw over the horse' eyes, he was near the fire and didn't want to come out. I did this with two more horses but couldn't get to the final two way past the fore. 

I had released all bar the two from the back and had let the ones in the old block out. I had opened the gate to the track to the fields amd arenas and the horses all went up the track. 

Finally he came out and unlocked the gates asking what the matter was. The fact that the hay stored in the loft was burning and smoke was everywhere he hadn't realised. He hadn't even called the fire brigade. He went off to do so. 
I let every horse out bar one line which was away from the rest. 

A retired Colonel came down tomsee what was happening, he had seen the flames from his bedroom window and was worried about his horse. She was fine, one of the first I had released. 

The firemen arrived and immediately called for another unit. The Colonel amd I kicked in the tackroom door and grabbed as much tack as we could and threw it onto the muck heap. 

The hay in the loft was burning, it wasn't causing the inferno but the old beams were going great guns. 

The tackroom was cleared before she came on the scene. Her first remark was, "I hope you kept the livery tack separate from mine." My retort is not printable here. 

When she realised all the horses were out together she went ape, not only because they were all together but I hadn't changed their rugs. It was only a fireman grabbing me that prevented her having her teeth knocked out. I was so on her face and saw she had even put on make up. 

The two horse were dead thankfully the fire chief ought from smoke inhalation. Their stables were burning on the doors and roof but not actually inside. 

The fire crew were there for around twelve hours. I was singed and had tight skin on my hands and face. They helped save the unborn the hay and stack it in a rick under a tarpaulin. 

It was all insipured and local builders came very quickly to mend the roofs and make good the damage. 

I stayed until things were back together and then left.


----------



## knightrider

Oh! My! What a story. You have had more adventures! You could write a great book!


----------



## seabiscuit91

Yes I would love to read, regardless of the content! Your writing is fascinating.


----------



## Foxhunter

* One of the best things was when I handed in my notice and told her that I was going with Bill. She was so shocked as she hadn't a clue we had been together most of the time I was there.

Bill was a brick layer/stone mason. He was quite a lot older than me. He had a small flat and I moved in. He had sold Willie as the horse wasn't suitable for him so we were horseless. 

Bill was doing some work for an Estate Agent, John. I was at a loose end. I would go into the office and somehow ended up with helping out. At the time property was cheap it was the beginning of the housing boom with everyone trying to get on the property ladder. In a matter of months property was trebling in price. 

I found I could sell and ended up showing people properties on a commission basis. In a 'bad' week the money I was earning was ten times more than I ever had with horses. 
John was a smarmy person, smart, talked the talk and had a finger in many pies. I had no reason to dislike him but my instinct told me not to trust him. Bill and I often spoke about it and agreed that he wasn't the most honest of people. 

There was another man who worked there and was in cahoots with John, he too was a Bill. Both of them drove top of the range cars and spent money like it was water. 

John took my Bill and I to look at a row of fourteen terrace houses he had bought. Several of these were empty. None had had any work done on them for years. These houses were opposite a gas works two rooms up two down with an outside toilet, no bathroom and a minuscule kitchen. The idea was to build a small extension out the back making it into a kitchen downstairs and a bathroom up. 
The idea we were told was to do up the empty properties, have the protected tenants, all elderly, into the renovated and then do up theirs. 

I wrote out an advert for these places as they were and people flooded in. They were priced at £3,500 and there were more people wanting them than there were properties. John then told me to advertise them at £4,500 and the same happened. 

Bill was working on a big housing estate with his partner, another John, and labourer George. This estate was being built on an old cemetery so work was often stopped when another corpse was found. 

I needed a car of my own so Bill took me to a friend of his - another Bill, and I bought a used car from him. We went to a pub for lunch and in conversation learned that car Bill actually owned the row of gas work houses and that they were due to be demolished to extend the gas works. 
John had taken deposits from so many people and was fobbing them off over why they weren't being renovated. That really got my back up as those trying to buy them had all put down deposits and where wanting to know when they could move in or set a wedding date. Some asked for their deposits back and were obviously being conned. 

One lad came in with a couple of 'big' friends demanding his money back. There were two of us in the front office, John had an intercom so he could hear what was going on from his office in the back. I told the man no one but us two were in but wrote a note to tell him to go around the back. He got his deposit back and John appeared sporting a black eye. 
I felt no guilt.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Bill was stret wise having been reared in a rough area. He had been in trouble as a youngster and had actuall been in prison as a young teen becaus no remand home could hold him. He told me that in he escaped early one morning, stole a bicycle, stole some vegetables from an allotment put them in the basket on the front of the bike and cycled to go see Ivy, his mother. He was stopped three times on his way home (over 100 miles) and each time said he was a delivery boy. He got home and was taken back by the police who were waiting for him but he did see his mum. 

This was during the war and it was after this he was incarcerated which did him good as he swore he would never go back. 

Bill's parents, Ivy and Bill, lived in a terrace house. They had been there for years. Big Bill was the biggest bigot I had ever met, henwas prejudice over just about everything. Every other word out of his mouth was a swear word and he was a bully. Ivy was a sweetie, she was resigned to her life of being a slave. She had so little as Bill gave her little of their pension but she had to pay all the bills. In the winter she kept her thread bare coat on all the time in an effort to keep warm. The fire would be burning in the living room but Big Bill wouldmsit so close to it no heat went elsewhere. 
He didn't like me nor I him. It was a matter of us both being determined to win any argument and me sticking up for Ivy. 

One day I took Ivy out up to the shops and bought her a load of clothes, a new warm coat, underwear, and some skirts and sweaters. At least she would be warm. When we returned Big Bill wanted to know where his stuff was. 

Bill and I would slip Ivy a fiver most weeks which she squirrelled away. She would use it to buy some tobaccco and to have a flutter on the horses at the bookies across the road. She was shrewd with her gambling and won more than she lost. If Big Bill found out about this then he would take it from her and if she had a pouch of tobacco he would take most of it. 

Ivy wasn't silly, she would collect her winnings when there wasn't anyone in the shop and a new pouch of baccy was hidden and a little put into another pouch. We would often be in goggles in the kitchen. 

Bill had two younger brothers and a sister. Albert was around 6' and heavy. He was like his father and married to Carol, I didn't like either of them nor their ill mannered children. Eddy the baby brother was 6'5" he was enormous. He weighed nearly 300 lbs and all of it was muscle. He was wed to Jenny, a mouse of a woman and they had Homer, a four year old that was wearing eight year old children's clothes he was so big. 

Alby was in charge of an enormous building site about thirty miles away, Eddy had his own scaffolding company. 

His sister (forgotten her name) lived away and we never really saw her. 

One day I had taken Ivy out and we were walking in the shopping precinct when she nudged my arm and nodded her head towards a man across the road. She then told me that he was my Bill's father which made sense as he was short, wirey and olive skinned. Bill was quite like him.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The building site Alby was in charge of had been going for two or three years. There was a group of Irish navvies that lived in caravans at the back of the site. 
Their toilet was a trench surrounded with a ply wood wall and inside had a scaffold bar over a deep trench. 

Women on building sites were very rare and I use to get a lot of banter from all types of workers, now it would be called sexual harassment but I took it in the way it was meant, banter and teasing and could give as good as was dealt out. 

Bill had gone to work with Alby and I drove down to pick him up. I went in the back way and as I did so there were a few navvies power washing off another. I was expecting the normal banter so called out, "What's up Paddy, fallen in the sh it?" They didn't reply, just stood there staring. 

That Friday night Bill told me we were going out with his brothers and their wives. I moaned at this as I couldn't stand Carol and Jenny wouldn't say two words. 

We drove down to a rough area, parked in a side street and walked to a rough looking pub - all the time I was complaining. 

In the pub there were some people playing pool amd darts down one side and all stared as we walked in. The others were already there, the boys at the bar the two girls sitting at a table. Honestly this place was rough. Every table was sticky and the place smelled of stale beer. 

We had been there nearly an hour and we girls were really annoyed. I was returning to the table with more drinks when in walked some of the navvies. I greeted them with a cheery hello and a smile thinking that it might improve the evening. 

They never greeted me at all but walked up to the three boys at the bar, there was some talk and I went to go to find out what was going on but Bill caught my eye and shook his head. I could tell something was going down from the body language and moved back. 

Next thing a fight broke out. It was like something from a cowboy western! Eddy picked up one navvy by his collar and crutch and threw him several feet so a table was sent flying. Albynwas throwing and receiving punches. Bill, who had bee a pro welter weight boxer, was holding his open hands up in front of him and saying, "No mate, I have my best suit on, don't hit me." I couldn't believe it - nor could the navvy who hesitated and in that moment Bill had kicked him on the knee cap and as he bent forward somwas hit with both hands across the neck. He went down and another moved in falling for the same trick.

It was all over very quickly and we were out the pub down the road and in our cars before the police arrived. 

Alby had been having problems have a couple of the navvies and had hacksawed through the bar over the trench and the navvy had fallen in. When I drove past I had added fuel to the fire with my comment and they thought I had known about it, which I hadn't. 

Eddy and Alby were bot sporting a black eye and other facial bruising, Bill never had a mark on him. We went for a Chinese meal in town as if nothing had happened.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Car dealer, Bill Blake, was a wealthy man. He had four car dealerships, owned several properties and a finger in many businesses. He was a self made man. 

His wife had died about five years before I met him and they didn't have any children, he was lonely and wanted company but was wary of women chasing him because he knew they were after his money. So, he placed a couple of adverts in the London Weekly Advertiser and not received a single reply. I told him I would place one for him which I did. I cannot recall the exact wording but it ran something like :- 

Older man, sole owner of a battered mini van, lame dog that like owner, has seen better days. Seeks delightful female company. South London, will travel further if petrol is paid. 

I thought nothing more about it until he called to say he had received over a hundred replies some with cash and others with cheques. 

We selected a seemingly nice younger lady - in her twenties. Bill had a Rolls Royce in the garage and he said we would take that, we had my Bill's old Lab x GSD, Mandy, my Bill dressed up as a chauffeu, I was a secretary PA. I had on a thick tweed suit bought from a charity shop and really thick glasses that I couldn't see a thing through. 

Blakey had on a dinner suit but he had one arm inside the coat so it appeared he was an amputee. 

We picked a very attractive girl up at the station and were going out for a meal to Blakey's favourite restaurant, only this was a greasy fish and chip place very near he pub where the brawl had taken place, the girl went along with it all very well and it was I who couldn't keep it up any more. Bill's hat was miles to big for him amd kept falling down over his nose. The glasses were hurting me and something wasnsaid that just made me burst out with laughter. 
The girl was a university student and only answered for a dare, I said she was silly as she didn't know what she might be meeting but she had been shadowed by three lads in a car, parked outside. 

Blakey was relieved to get his arm out from behind his back, Bill was relieved to take the hat off and I the glasses. Many was pleased to be fed with the fish we had ordered (don't think any of us would have eaten it!) 
Blakey then took us all, including the three lads out for a meal at a proper restaurant.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I was getting fed up with no horses in my life. I had left the estate agents with all that was going on. Not long after I had I met a person who had been swindled by John and was after him. It all got reported to a Sunday newspaper resulting with the police investigating, a court case and a prison sentence for John. 

The other Bill who worked with John was married and his wife expecting their first baby. I liked her, she was fun amd didn't mind me taking the mickey over her fat ankles. I learned afterwards that she went into hospital to have the baby and he never went to see her. When she arrived home he had put all her ings outside and changed the locks on the house. That was the sort of person he was. 

I had a job delivering wages for a big building company but it didn't fill in my day. 

Bill, Bob and Georgie were working all over the place but they would use the cemetery site if other work was slow. They weren't very popular as the two of them could lay more bricks in a day than a team of five bricking if George had a day off they would need two labourers to keep them going. 

I loved the banter of the building sites, it made me keep my wits about me. One day it started to rain heavily mid morning so I went to pick Bill up. They were sitting in the shed where they had a water boiler for drinks 
I went to get a cup of tea when Bob was insistent I had a cup from his flask. The place was packed out because of the weather, it was supposed to clear but by lunchtime it was still pouring so they decided to pack it up. There had been several snide remarks at Bob but he had ignored them. Something was going on but I didn't know what. 
As we went out the door Bob turned and said, "You think that was funny, well, why do you think we have been drinking from flasks?" 

Someone, the previous day had caught a live rat and put it in Bob's sandwich box. His wife was pregnant and having a rough time with it (their first baby and both in their fourties) when she opened the box somthe rat jumped out, fortunately their terrier wasnquick to despatch it and she wasn't frightened of rats. 
Bob had placed the dead rat in the boiler, it was well cooked! 

Bill and I went out for a meal with Blakey. He had bought some land at the back of Biggin Hill and wanted us to go look at it. He had hoped that he could build some houses on it but the permission was refused. 

It was nearly two acres and had been a piggery and had been empty for a couple of years. It was a major mess, still had the muck in the sties and many rats. There was also a caravan on site, it hadn't been used as a residence but as somewhere to just make a meal, 

After a while building permission was given to build a dozen stables, storage and a bungalow. 

The whole area was fenced with eight feet of chain line fencing with barbwire at the top and big heavy gates with the biggest padlock I have ever seen. Very much a rural area, this ground was behind four ex farm cottages on a lane which had two other house further down and a Boy Scouts camp ground at the end. 

I was spending my days clearing the place of wire and junk and clearing out the old sties. Imwasmsomfed up with all the rats keeping me company. I called in at the RSPCA horse home just down the road tomask if they had any terriers needing rehoming. I got a call that a family wanted to get rid of a Border Terrier as she kept running off to go hunting. Fancy came into my life. She was a great ratter and had a wonderful time. 

The old sties were flattened and used for the base of the new buildings. A lorry load of blocks was delivered, these were just tipped as it was a lot cheaper that way. They arrived early afternoon. Next morning when I went up there, the lot had gone. Not even half a block was there only dust where they had been. No one innthe cottages had heard a thing. The thick chain holding the gates together had been sawn through.

I went to the vets with Fancy who had cut her leg badly enough that it needed stitches. There was a young man in there with a big GSD. I started chatting to him and asked what was wrong with the dog. He was having him put to sleep as the dog had become so possessive over his and wife's baby. 
New homes had been found for the dog but he had always escaped and made it back to the family and they were frightened he might get hit by a car or cause an accident. 

I persuaded him to let me take General on. He wasn't sure but didn't want the dog euthanised either. He took the dog home, imwent there a couple of days later. When I went to the crib to look at the baby the dog was there immediately growling low in his throat and showing his teeth. 
I turned and told him to get in his bed and to behave himself. Henwent to his bed, I picked up the baby and sat on the sofa with her. The dog crept out hos bed and sat by me nibbling my arm. The owner was in tears, he went to collect the dog's lead and what food he had and told me that he was the only other person the dog nibbled. 

Enter General into my life.


----------



## Foxhunter

* General was an intact dog,sable with light brown eyes that made him look mean especially when he helps a stare. He and Fancy stayed on the site with the caravan door open. 

We had a delivery of more blocks and another of bricks. The chain and padlock had been replaced. Next morning I arrived to find the gate open and Fancy wandering up the lane, in the compound was a man with General standing watching him. The blocks and bricks were still there. One of the neighbour's called the police who took their time in arriving. The man said his dog had run into the compound and he had gone to fetch it but General wouldn't let him out. All a load of crock, he had been the unlucky one in a gang that had come to take the blocks amd bricks. He was a gipsy and known to the law but they couldn't do anything as nothing had been stolen. 

That ended the thefts. 

I was looking for a horsemfor Bill and something for me to bring in and sell. I ended up at a dealers yard. George was an Irishman and Mary, his partner. They had here small children. Mary was an alcoholic and George too but he wouldn't own up to the fact. 
The good thing about them was that George had a good eye for a horse and would bring a load over from Ireland an a very regular basis. 

Their turnover was fast as most were sold to other dealers. There was always a good selection, cheap cobs and youngsters with great potential. Very few stayed for more than a few days. 

I loved it and would be there most days. There was absolutely no organisation with the horses or the children. 

Mary had lost her license with a DUI amd she never drove whilst under the ban. Their place was quite remote but she got her booze when clients came to the yard and she wouldmask them to go and get her some alcohol, theynalways went as she usually said that they had had a session and she was out and liked to seal a deal with a drink. They never refused and she would give them a handful of cash and be supplied for a few days. 

George was often away in Ireland buying horses. I stayed around because I liked the type of horses and I was concerned about the children. I arrived one morning to find Katherine (6) trying to butter some bread with the butter straight from the fridge to feed the two younger ones something as there was no cereal and get herself ready for school. 
Mary had been drunk the night before and had a big fight with George. She had been drunk. As Katherine went out the door she asked me tell her mother that she had put her false tooth under her pillow. 

When Mary appeared midday, she was bruised all over from George beating her up. 

_In retrospect I should have called the authorities but I never did._

I started riding the horses George bought. When anload arrived - usually fourteen on a load, dealers would be waiting to see what was arriving, they would look at a horse and if they liked it theynwouldmload it straight onto their horsebox. 

Often they would want to see them ridden and I would be legged up onto some unknown animal. The horses had had a long journey travelling across the Irish Sea in the hold of a ship then a fifteen hour trip on the road. They were exhausted which I am sure saved me from injury!

None of them had proper halters on just something fashioned out of a thick twine. I would walk trot and canter them and pop them over some split fences, just in their twine halters and bareback - often by headlights of vehicles. Madness but such fun.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I went with George to Eire on a buying trip. We went by boat and having been brought up with the sea playing a major part in my life, thought I'd be OK. That was one really rough trip and soon I was feeling exceedingly queasy. George's answer to this was to sit at the bar and drink port and brandy- it worked. The only problem was on reaching the other side and disembarking the whole dock was moving.

We were staying with another dealer and once there, out came the whiskey bottle. I wanted to go hunting whilst there and Pat told me to go pick a horse. I went across to the stables and looked at several horses finally choosing a big chestnut. He was well boned, had a kindly eye and I assessed his age at either six or eight, either way he would have been experienced. George and I travelled for a couple of days buying from farmers and attending a sale, deals were done all sealed with a handshake and a drink. 

The day I was going hunting I turned up at the Meet. Pat had several horses going out and two of his sones led up a chestnut horse. I admit that I wasn't sober, I wasn't hung over as any alcohol just topped me up and kept me tipsy. It did cross my mind as I looked at the horse that it wasn't the one I had selected but what the heck? 
One lad held the head whilst the other went to leg me up. As I came down to the saddle so the horses back came up to meet me and I was catapulted over the other side. Second attempt with three people holding on, I was in the plate. They let her go and go she went, straight from the pub car park head down and bucking like stink, up the village which fortunately for me was on a steep hill. I managed to stop her at the top, she was tired from her effort. I turned and rode back down keeping her head up. 

Hounds moved off just as we got there. Half a mile down the road everyone was popping over a set of rails off the road into a field. I locked on behind Pats grandson, his pony leapt the rails, my horse made a half hearted attempt to jump the lower one, chested it and went down fortuately into the field. I had enough wit about me to step onto her before she got to her feet. I had tasted Irish soil. 

By two o'clock the horse was tired. She hadn't made an error jumping after the first rail thought there had been some very hairy moments. Pats grandson and I left to ride back. Once at the stables a lad took the horse off and I went into the house. 
I went to have a bath and change. I laid in an enormous bath which was in the centre of an enormous room. I was enjoying my soak when in walked a girl of about six. She was carrying a plate with a sandwich on it. The bread was homemade, cut about an inch thick, the butter was plastered on, the ham as thick as the bread and on the side several pickled onions. 
She never said a word, just placed the plate on the soap rack and walked out to return minutes later with a pint mug of tea then the third time with a glass of potcheen (an Irish moonshine drink) I took one sip of it and decided I like the skin on the back of my throats and poured it into the bath. 

Changed and back downstairs I sat in front of a roaring log fire. Pat was sat in his chair with a glass of Guinness. I immediately said, "Pat, that wasn't the horse I selected was it?"
"Ah, to be sure, I sold that horse the next day so chose that mare for you." He was grinning, "Will you be wanting to buy her?" 
"No I will not!" I replied firmly. 
"Ah, well I will be selling her as 'hunted by a lady'" 
Neddy, the grandson was sat on the floor immediately remarked, "Grampa, if you heard some of her words you wouldn't be calling her a lady!"

I did buy two horses from him the next day. A smart bay four year old TB that had raced earlier that season but wasn't good enough, and a dark bay/brown mare that was lovely looking but went very much on her forehand. 

We flew back having bought a full load of horses.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The stables and bungalow were being built slower than we hoped as they were using it as a fill in between other jobs so, I kept the horses with George and Mary. 

They had only been there for a couple of days when we went to Hickstead where the mare was entered in two classes. These were official classes and she should have been registered with the BSJA but, she wasn't. We also had three other horses entered. 

I missed her first class so she had a Foxhunters class (fences 3'6" - 4') I did wonder why I had bought her as she was so on her forehand going with her head inches from the ground. I tried to get her head up and we went through the first three fences, after that I decided to let her get on with it and let her have a long rein, I just sat, kept my leg on and pointed in the right direction. She went clear which included jumping a water and a big treble. 
This was always a big show and dealers would take horses there and word would always get around that certain horses were for sale. It was nothing for me to come out the arena to find that George had sold the horse I was riding and I would take the saddle off and the horse would be led off never to be seen again. 

When I came out with the mare George was haggling over the price for her. I had paid £750 for both horses, the deal was done and she was sold for double that. 

The other horses, named Esbend, well named as he was by Esperanto out of Four Corners, had Strangles so was turned out with several others. About eight to ten weeks went past before I decided to bring him into work. I waded through the mud to go get him amd decided to ride him back up. I vaulted on and he took off. I hadn't tied the rope to make reins and had little chance of stopping him. I thought he would stop at the top of the field but he didn't. He saw the ditch and rails, pricked his ears, corrected his stride and jumped it clear. The rails were 4'6" and the ditch 4' wide, pretty good since the mud was about 6" deep. I brought him into work and he was sold before I could compete him, to go eventing.


----------



## Foxhunter

*I was at George and Mary's nearly every day. I did my best to keep the booze away from Mary but she was artful and had more experience at hiding it than I did at finding it. 
Result was a drunk Mary and a drunk George ended up with Mary getting hit. Although I totally disagree with any physical fight between man and wife especially when children are around, I could see that Mary knew the right buttons to push to antagonise George and if he was knocking her around at least she had his attention.

One night I had put Mary to bed as she was plastered. I fed the children, bathed them and put them to bed. I was reluctant to leave as George was coming back from Eire. I had a meal prepared for him. 
It was about 8 p.m. When he walked in the door. He asked where Mary was and when I said she was in bed he went to go get her. I immediately told him to leave her and he wasn't to knock her around whilst I was there.
He turned and started coming at me. 
I backed away into the kitchen, there was a knife on the drainer and I thought about grabbing it and in an instant thought better of it. Instead I grabbed the saucepan of potatoes I had on the top of the cooker. I had only just turned them off. As George approached me I threw the lot over him. 
His hands went to his face and he bent forward cussing me. I was worried about him really going for me so, with both hands on the handle of the cast iron pan I brought it down on his head. 
He went down flat, not a movement or murmur. I really thought I had killed him amd then reasoned it would be hard to kill an Irishman with a saucepan! 

I cleared the mess, threw a blanket over George and went home. Next day he had gone back to Ireland.


----------



## Foxhunter

* There were some very interesting horses came in. There was a great variety and both had a reputation for having good animals. 

A woman, well known in the showing world asked George to find her a good show cob - something not easy to do. A loadmcame across the water and on the load were some 'cheapies' horses and ponies that riding schools wanted either to work them and keep or sell on. 

Amongst this load there was a cob mare, bay around 15.1. She had come from the sales. She was immaculately groomed but had a long mane and tail and her feet were something to behold. She was shod all round and the shoes weren't worn at all but they had been on her feet for several months. The shoes were loose but didn't clink as most loose shoes do they went kerplonk with every footfall. 

A riding school owner too her and three other ponies off to try at her place (this was late evening) next morning she brought the cob mare back as she didn't like her feet. 
I told her to put her straight up in the horsebox as I was taking her and three others to another riding school. 

Bill and Neil (an Irishman) came with me. On reaching the place the head girl came up amd saint, "I am going to try the young jumper." 
The next came up and said, "I will rode the jumping pony." The third was on the other pony and the lowest in the pecking order said, "I have the cob."
Bill and Neil were tacking the mare up and when the girls asked "What's her name?" Bill instantly replied, "Mudeye."

As they led her out so I could see why. The previous night she had been turned out and had laid in the muddiest spot. All her left side was thick mud with a lump of mud stuck above her left eye. 

They were all riding in the indoor arena. The three of us were laughing. 
When the girl asked the cob to trot she lowered her head and set off at a spanking trot looking as if she was pulling a cart. The girl said, "I can't stop her, I am using my legs and pushing her into the bridle but will not stop." 
Neil waited til she was trotting past us and said, "Whoa there." The mare stopped dead in her tracks.
Needless to say we took her home as they didn't like her feet. 

I really liked this mare, she was kind and willing. Had obviously been driven more than ridden, she had a good open action and moved straight as a dye. George called the show woman to come look. She barely glanced at her and said that she had terrible feet and wasn't a show cob. 

The farrier came and could not believe her feet. Everyone was saying how bad her feet were whereas I thought she must have terrific feet to keep those shoes on as long as she had without the walls breaking aaay. The farrier agreed with me and he actually cut the walls off with the shoes still on - that's how long they were. 

Once shod I got out the clippers, clipped her right out, hogged her mane and pulled her tail. I worked her every day and she tried to please every time. She also had a heck of a pop too. 
I was working her one morning when thenshow woman drove past she immediately pulled in and demanded to know why George hadn't told her he had found a good cob. 

George looked at me. I zipped my mouth and Mudeye was,sold for four times the original asking price.


----------



## Foxhunter

* At the time all horses travelling from Ireland came over in the holds of ships. Itmwas up to the captain as to whether or not they travelled in adverse weather. Often it might be several days or even weeks before they came across the water. 

After a delay we finally heard that two lots were being shipped. Transporters went to collect them, this was two big wagons each carrying fourteen horses only this time they travelled head to tail and eighteen were on each load. 

They arrived more or less together in the middle of the night. There weren't enough stables for them so many were being put out in the fields. Katherine woke up whilst we were shunting horses around. I had a grey horse and George told me to turn it out, then, as another grey was unloaded he realised I had turned the expensive horse out when it should have been in a stable. 
Once things were a tad sorted I caught the expensive horse and turned the other grey out. 

In the morning I was back at about eight a.m. to find Katherine talking to one of the big dealers. He went out into the field and caught the grey. I knew he was after the expensive horse and told him it was in the stable but he would have none of it . Katherine had told him the expensive horse had been turned out by mistake. He wouldn't believe I had swapped them over and went off with three or four horses. Needless to say, he realised he hadn't got anything special with the grey he had taken and came back to collect the right horse. 

Two ponies arrived one day, one was a skewbald the other black. I kept looking at the skewbald thinking that I recognised it. Both these ponies were sick with pneumonia a few days after arriving. I looked in the local library and found a picture of this pony show jumping. His name was Kangaroo and he had been an international junior jumper. It was so sad that a pony that had given hos all should end up in a dealers yard. 

I made a few calls to the BSJA and found a couple of previous owners. One came down and immediately said they would take him back. The real coincidence was that they recognised the black as another top jumping pony. They called one of his previous owners and they said they would take him back. 

George made a loss on the pair as he never charged them though they did pay the shipping and vets bill. 

In the October some nine months later, both ponies were at the Horse of the Year Show in the Personality Parade. They loved being the centre of attention and used the audience clapping as an excuse to buck and mess around. Kangaroo was in his early thirties.


----------



## Foxhunter

* General was one heck of a dog and it didn't take me long to realise it. He had plants of chances to make for his old home but he never did. I had a problem with getting him to eat, he wouldn't touch tinned meat and it wasn't until I found a source for raw meat did he start to eat well. 

I had shut him and Fancy in the caravan and when I came back I found he had opened a cupboard and eaten a packet of rice and a load of curry powder left there by the previous owner. Needless to say he had a burning butt afterwards!
Another time he opened the cupboard amd ate a load of pony cubes. When I took him out he tried to poop and couldn't, he did this several times and finally did the biggest dog poop I have ever seen. As he produced so he stood higher and innthe end there was this enormous poop standing tall. Looked like pure pony cubes. 

I had a couple of horses turned out in a farmer's field just down the road. Neither was broken and both from Ireland. They needed to put on weight and were certainly doing so where they were. 

The stables were soon finished and an arena in front of them. I had bought and sold a few ponies and had been helping local children by giving free lessons on a Sunday in a filed. Word gotmaround and soon I had about twenty children coming to these lessons. 

George sent me several horses, one was a big wide dark bay gelding, he was named JSSE. He was help up with bad weather and already thin by the time he arrived he was a toast rack. I wormed him and turned him out in the fields. Henwas a tall wide horse with about 10" of bone. Strangely the whorls on both sides of his neck were central neck so much of his neck hair grew the wrong way, he also had four whorls on his forehead. 

I was looking for some ponies for clients and went to a riding school/dealers yard. Nothing there was what I was looking for though I did buy a young horse. I was taken out to look at the animals in the field, it was pouring with rain. Nothing there caught my eye until I saw a black pony shivering behind a shed. He was so miserable, head down and snot pouring from both nostrils. He was a picture of misery. I was told he had been worked in the riding school amd was four, I looked in hos mouth and couldmsee he was only two. I did a deal and collected them the next day. I don't know how but the pony was named Stanley. I kept him stabled and he was on antibiotics for pneumonia. As soon as he was feeling better he too went out in the field.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Two horses that George bought were being difficult to sell. One was a bay mare, superb little horse but she suffered with lymphantitis. Her back legs would blow up like tree trunks. The other was a chestnut gelding that was a bad windsucker. 
George decided to get them out hunting so we went out with the drag hounds. 
I had never drag Hunted before - some of the lines were over big fences quite an eye opener. 

The mare turned out to be allergic to oars. Without them she was fine. The gelding wasn't so easy to sell but did eventually. 

After we came back from the day hunting, I went inside to have a bath. It had been pouring most of the day and we were covered in mud almost as much as the horses.

I was laying stretched out in the bath when George came in (there wasn't a lock on the door) carrying Shep, the long coated yard dog, and dropped him in the bath with me. 

When he was in the bath I pulled a bucket of water from the dirty tub and chucked that over him. At least he wasn't scratched from dog claws!

Douglas Bunn who owned Hickstead, Englands main outdoor show jumping establishment, decided to hold a Team Chase. Teams of four riders all going around a cross country course together, fastest team wins with at least three riders to finish. It sounded like fin and George and I went to have a look at the course. The first fence was a big hedge, at least 4'6" in height about 5' wide and with a ditch on the take off side. The second was another hedge - even bigger and the third hedge had a wide ditch on the landing. That was as far as we walked deciding that as we didn't know what horses we would have around (most good ones were green) it wasn't such a good idea after all. 

George came back from delivering a horse and told me we would be in a team after all. 

I was onnthe chestnut and he the mare. The two women were seasoned hunters and riding the horses they had hunted over the same fences with the Drag Hounds. The order was that the two women would take the lead and George and I would lock on behind taking a lead from them. 
Neither of us had walked the course but as we were following that was fine. 

When horses are following hounds they are very different to when they aren't! To clear the hedges one needed to have a good pace on, take it as a flyer, the horses could brush through the tops with no problem. 

We set off at a prissy canter, George was yelling out "Kick on!" but they didn't, we looked at each other and pulled to the side, increased the pace and charged. Both the other horses took a hold and were going a fair clip but, one started to stop several strides out, thenother ran intomand along the ditch. We cleared it and travelled on clearing the other three. 
We followed the hoofmarks of previous competitors and finally stopped in the farm yard waiting for the other two to catch up. They didn't appear so, George and I drank from his flask and continued to the finish. 

I do own up to the fact that we had both participated in Dutch courage before we set out. 

The women were non to happy about us going on without them but, that is what they had said before we started.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The young woman I sold Esbend to was very wealthy - or rather her father was. She had bought a big chestnut horse from George a couple of years prior but he had become unrideable due to a bad back. He was named Cheeky, a big well boned horse that was waynto big for the owner. He came in part exchange. 

There appeared to be nothing wrong with the horse until you went to mount him and then his back would sag and hos belly nearly touch the ground. They had taken him to all sorts of places to try to find the cause but nothing had improved him. 

He was turned out in a field by the river and was destined to go down the road to the killers.,

The day came and I waded through the mud tomthenbottom paddock. I dropped the slip rails and was sinking into mud nearly to the top of my boots. I decided to vault across his withers and let him carry me through the worst of it. I managed to get across his neck and he went through the mud, instead of slipping off I threw my legmover and was on him. There was no sagging at all. He took off at a canter and only stoppedmwhen he was in the yard. I looked at George and told him I wasn't letting him go. 

We had a row about it but he was my horse so that was that. 

As our stables were finished I moved him. I decided to ride him bareback which was fine. He loved going out and about, was beautifully schooled although not brilliant in traffic and quite spooky, henwasnt the worse I had ridden. 

I would put a sheepskin numnah on him with a fully elasticated surcingle which was fine. After a while I saddled him and he was fine. 

_Back then there wasn't really anyone who treated horse's backs._

General was brilliant riding out with the horses. He would keep in behind or go ahead if told. He kept up easily. 

I had a bay mare in, she had come in part exchange and had been rather spoilt. She could put in some pretty big bucks at times, some were formfun and others to get me off. She had been over fed and not worked hard enough. 

I took her out one morning and gave her a good workout. General was with me. Coming home through some commercial orchards I started to canter along a rode when she saw a gremlin, she tried to stop, I drove her forward and she put in a buck catch g me straight in the butt. I wasmcatapulted out the saddle, landed on my feet on her right and tried to hold the reins. She jumped forward and kicked me on the side of my head as she shot off. I was out cold.

Two women roders found me and one rode off tomcall,for an ambulance whilst the othernstayed with me. General was therenas was the mare., General must have caught her and brought her back because there was no way she would have returned to me. The ambulance arrived but they couldn't get near me, General was on guard and wouldn't let them. The ambulance men called for assistance and the head of the local RSPCA arrived. He recognised me and the dog but still couldn't get near me, nor could they noosewith the dog. In the end he went to get a girl,who had been riding a few of the ponies from the local school and she caught General with no trouble. As I was being examined I came around, sat up and felt absolutely fine. No headache or dizziness. I could recall what had happened. I thanked everyone and remounted the mare and rode home.


----------



## Foxhunter

* George was spending more and more time in Irelan, Mary packed a few things and took the children and went across the water to find him. 
Next thing I know is I get told he had shipped a load of horses for me to sell. 

I didn't have the other sealer contacts he had so was selling mostly privately which always took longer and the longer you kept a horse the more you needed to add to the price to make a profit. I was still selling a lot of animals and doing very nicely thank you. 

Bill had an old dog, Mandy, after she was PTS he decided he wanted an Irish (Red) Setter. I sounded around and found a very reputable breeder about 50 miles away. I called them and was told they had a letter due the following week. They called me back when the pups were born and when they were a couple of weeks old I went to pick one. Bill knew nothing about this. 

The people were an older couple and had several dogs about the place. The ***** and pups were indoors and I was shown around all the kennels and introduced to all the dogs. I picked a pup paid a deposit and that was that. I was just leaving when there was a heck of a racket with someone shouting, someone screaming and a clatter of hooves. The man went pale and cussed and grabbed a rope, she explained there was a colt in the field but he kept jumping out when other horses went past. 

The husband wasn't horsey and I stepped in. A chestnut colt was roaring around the two mares trying to mount them. Luckily he had a halter on and I grabbed him and to get his attention I had to whack him with the rope. The women rode off hurriedly and I put pony back in his field. 

This field was surrounded by a high hedge, it must have been well over 4'6" in height and width. He was a beautiful looking animal, top conformation, just unhandled. 

When I let him go he went across the field moving like a dream, straight and active. I thought he was something special. 

I told the couple to get him gelded as this would help quieten him down. They explained that he wasn't their horse. An old gypsy that travelled all around had bred him and three years prior had asked if he could leave him in the field for weaning. They hadn't seen hide nor hair of the old man sines the day he weaned the colt. 

When I picked up the pup several weeks later they had had the colt gelded. I offered to buy him but they were reluctant as they didn't own him. 

Shortly after I get a call asking if I still wanted to buy him and I immediately said, "Yes!" He was still jumping out and they couldn't cope with him. 
They thought that £150 was a fair price. That covered the gelding and farrier with what was left going towards his feed. I didn't think it was a fair price and wrote a cheque for £250, loaded him up and drove him home. For a pony that hadn't really been handled and had certainly never travelled he was totally unfazed by it all. 

Next morning I set about breaking him he was cheeky but never defiant. He decided he liked learning and was soon trying hard to please. I knew from his attitude that prior to weaning he had been well handled. He tied, led, picked up his feet easily and accepted all around and about with curiosity but no fear. 

Kat, the schoolgirl up the road had been having lessons for some years at a riding school, she was so keen to learn but had never ridden anything that didn't need hard kicking to get it to move. In return for help I had her riding several of the horses. I decided to let her back Chess as he was now called. She did well with him, he was an ideal,size for her and they just got on well together. 

As winter neared I decided to turn Chess out in a large field I was renting. He wasn't yet four and I wanted to get him jumping before selling him. 

I was out riding one day on a new route when I saw a grey horse turned out in a small orchard. There was no shelter, he did have on an old New Zealand rug which had slipped badly to one side so the leg strap was cutting into hos flank and the other was getting caught around his hock when he moved. 

The weather was bitterly cold with a strong NE wind and everything freezing hard. I went back in the car to straighten his rug. Whilst I was doing this an elderly man came up. He was pushing a wheelbarrow in which was a small bucket of water and some hay. I was well prepared to tell him off but the horse wasn't his, he just felt sorry for it. 

Just up the road from where I had the stables was the RSPCA horse rescue centre so I involved them. With difficulty they found the owner and told her to take the money I was prepared to offer or they would take her to court and seize the horse. Tictak became mine. In all truth I paid meat money for him and had every intention of having him killed. He was old, looked sick and was,certainly past his best. 

I led him home from another horse and put him in a stable. He was a horse that despite his poor treatment had a lot of presence about him. First thing he did was pee and then roll, he grabbed a mouthful of hay and looked out to see where he was. 
He was thin, totally white, had just about every ailment a set of legs could get, big ears, eyes that were dark as night and as big as a saucer and one heck of a Roman nose. 

I wormed him, treated his sores and next day turned him out in the home field. He went out with a TB that hadn't been gelded long amd was still very stallionish. When he went to attack Tictak the old horse just moved out the way, went to the middle of the field and lay down grazing. The other horse didn't know what to make of it and by evening was following the old horse like a lost sheep. 

It didn't take long before the old horse started to put on weight. He gained a spring to his step and was soon a great favourite of all. He stayed! Bill started to ride him and it was obvious that the old boy had been well schooled in a show jumping manner. 

I had a really green horse I wanted to get out on the roads. Bill rode Tictak to accompany me. When the horse I was on tried to whipmaround with an oncoming tanker lorry Tictak shouldered him back to the side and gave such a look as if to say, "If you want to kill yourself fine just never try to push me in front of a vehicle!" 

Tictak became a permenant fixture. He was worth his weight in gold with the young horses. Nothing flapped him at all and he was such a calming influemce.


----------



## gottatrot

I love the story of Tictak!


----------



## Foxhunter

* Bill was riding Tictak all the time. Although Bill wasn't very experienced he was a natural at riding. Tictak loved his jumping and made Bill look like a pro. It was obvious that at one time the old horse had been jumped a lot. We would go to some smaller shows and it was very rare for them not to come home without a prize, 
On one occasion the horsebox broke down, we were only around seven miles from home. I had some clients coming to look at a horse and needed to get back. I decided to ride Tictak home whilst Bill waited with the lorry. 

The old horse never batted an eye as we trotted through all the traffic. At one set of lights there was a concrete lorry one side and a double decker bus the other. There were some children on the bus waving and shouting to us and he never cared. 

When dealing there were often horses taken in part exchange, mostly this was a case of wrong horse for that particular rider, sometimes it was just a problem horse. 

I had taken a TB mare in part exchange. She was four, had raced on the flat. She was classic looking and would certainly have made a show hack if her brain was sorted. 
She was HOT - everything done as fast as she could and the moment her feet hit grass she wanted to tank off. I spent ages getting her to relax. 
One Sunday morning Bill and I set out for a hack. It was very early when we set out. One of those beautiful summer mornings when you knew the dew would be burnt off and the day hot. 

We went through the orchards and the mare stayed calm. We walked and trotted and I told Bill to canter on ahead. The mare kept walking, her ears were well pricked but she wasn't getting hyper. 
I asked her to canter and she went along still relaxed. I was thrilled, I was out the saddle leaning forward patting her neck telling her what a good girl she was. 

Bill had cantered up to the main track and turned left, the mare followed and then ran straight into the back of Tictak. 

There on the left of the path were two backpacks, two piles of clothes, two pairs of walking boots with socks hanging over the back of them and Tictak was refusing to go past them! 
I then realised that on the other side of the track was a couple. They were both stark naked the woman was trying to hide behind one of the trees, not very successfully as the trunk wasn't very thick and she must have weighed at least 300 lbs. He was just stood there not sure whether to cover his face or his John Thomas. She was squealing, Bill and I were in fits. Bill was kicking Tictak making no difference to him going forward. I barged past and took off down the path. When we pulled up both of us were crying. 
Bill had seen a lot more than I had.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Down the road was an old jail house that had been converted into a pub. It was tiny and very basic but locals would pop in once or twice a week. 

One of out neighbour's was Albert, a wizened man into his seventies, who owned an Arab stud. He was a very interesting man, a real horseman who had forgotten more than I knew. 

Known for keeping himself to himself, I wanted to learn what I could from him. He was married to a much younger woman and they had just had their first child. My mother knitted the most beautiful baby layettes and she sent me one which I delivered to them. That was it, I was welcomed and Albert was happy to regale tales of his journey through WW1 with teams of mules. 

I had only ever seen one mule in my life and didn't think they were any different to horses, from Albert I learned otherwise. 

He told me he had a team of eight mules, they were bred in Spain and a certain cross. They stood between 14-15 hands and had hearts and guts to take on anything but, if hey had a day off they needed rebreaking the next day! 

He spoke exceedingly fondly of these mules and certainly had a great respect for them. He told me that he owed the land he owned to them and explained that in the mud and mire a pair of his mules would pull stuck vehicles out when nothing else could. Albert would tut tut amongst the men and say that it might be to much for his team and somehow get bets going, getting better odds when he cut down on the number of mules he would use! They never let him down. 

One early evening Bill and I stopped at the pub. We were quite surprised to see a stranger in there drinking a beer. 

He was a little man, wrinkled and brown from the sun. His hands were those of a workman. Both of us said, "Evening" to him and Bill asked if he would like a drink. He was surprised by this but asked for a pint. 

Bill brought it over to him and came and joined me at a table. We couldn't have been there more than five minutes when Albert came bursting in. There was no preamble, no word spoken Albert just launched onto the stranger! 

Bill and the barman rushed over and each grabbed one of these fighters. Even though they were being held back they were still swinging punches at each other. The three of us found it amusing. Albert taken outside by Bill and sent home. 

Bill came in and said that the other man was a gypsy that hit the area every two or three years. He had a horse drawn caravan and two mares to pull it (singly) one of these mares had somehow got down into Albert's and got innwith his best Arab stallion - which had been stabled an hour before. 

The man went off to collect his mare and returned thirty minutes later. Bill bought him another drink and we sat chatting. He just couldn't understand how his mare had got loose and innwoth the stallion. 

He went on to tell us how he had bred a very nice colt which he had left with some dog breeders. He had gone back to collect it to find they had sold it. They gave him some money but he was quite disappointed. He told us that's the colt was by a good stallion, Airs and Graces.
This horse had a high stud fee but somehow had got out and covered his mare! 

Bill and I looked at each other, we made the appropriate noises to his tale and left soon after. In the car we drove a way down the road before laughing our heads off. 

I made sure that for the month or so he was in the area he never saw the colt.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Cheeky, the chetnot with a 'bad' back was a funny horse, he was a worrier and went to pieces if he thought he had done something wrong. I don't think he had ever been got after, it was just his temperament. Regardless he was very good at show jumping. Nothing phased him in the ring. I had done well with him, had quite a lot of money on his card. Several people had wanted to buy him but when they tried him he was terrible! 
We had qualified at the Regional Finals for the Newcomers grand final. This was held indoors so I took Cheeky to a biggish show held indoors. 
I gave him a pop in a clear round jumping and he was fine. I took him into the arena and his back went down and he wouldn't move. I dismounted and led him out. He was a wreck. I really thought he was sick. 
Back at the horsebox I wasn't so sure. He calmed down a bit. I put his rug on and took him for a walk through some woods. He was then fine. I jumped on him and he was as normal. I rode him bareback to the indoor and he was uptight. 

I then realised all his work from previous owner had been indoors. 

I took him a few days later, to a local indoor and he was upset so, I rode Tictak, led Cheeky went to the indoor, just trotted around once and back out. He didn't like it but wasn't so bad. 

I had got to the point of being able to ride him around the arena, at a trot or canter without him collapsing. One Sunday Bill and I were riding back and I suggested we nipped into the arena. The local Pony Club was holding a Prince Phillip Cup (games) practise. Cheeky was at least three hands higher at the sight of hairy ponies racing up and down the arena! 
Bill and I stood the horses in a corner out the way and watched. One girl challenged us to a bending race. I wasn't sure but decided to give it a go. Cheeky hadn't a clue but loved trying! We played several games (I was chuffed that I could vault on him at a fast canter!) and there wasn't a hint of any problems.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Half the art of selling horses is to be able to place a good advert for them. Mostly I did this through the Horae and Hound a national weekly magazine.

The other thing was that I would always take a horse back if it was the wrong one for that person. 

George bought a big grey horse, he was solid, the only horse I have ever seen that had a muscle well built up hat went from his shoulder to part way up his neck. Fortunately I rode him in the ring - this was meant to be an arena but George had had a load of rubble dumped in the middle so you could only tide in a circle around it! 

Oh boy, even now after riding many very strong racehorses, this horse was so strong and impossible to get back should he get away from you. He looked good though cantering around the ring and jumping a 5' square fence time and time again. The number of times this horse was sold and returned a day or two later I couldn't count! When people tried him in the ring all you had to do tompull him up was for someone to step into the centre of the track as he came around. 

George and I took him to an indoor show at a little riding school near. I took him into the arena went around the first three fences and he carted me straight through the doors which were open about two inches, he just crashed into them shoving them open and flattening the person opening and closing them! 
He charged through the horses gathered around and took me over a wire fence into a field! I finally managed to pull him up and led him back to the horsebox. 

He was, what dealers call, a homing pigeon. He would be sold for £500 and bought back for £450 more than covering his cost of keep. 

One day I had taken him out for a hack, he had been fine though I had only walked and trotted him. About a mile from home there was a loud crash behind us and he went from walk to gallop in less than a second. There was nowhere to turn him and turning would have been impossible as he just set his neck solid. Ahead was a busy road and my thoughts were that if he was going to cause an accident I wasn't going to be on his back. 
I bailed out, I landed on my feet running, hoping that my being on the ground would just give him cause to hesitate and I could haul him around. 
Fat chance! He just charged on, went across the road causing a lorry to swerve and go in a ditch, and straight to the stables. 

I knew George wouldn't have insurance so I hid in an overgrown garden. The police arrived and I stayed hidden. Bill, who was at the stables drove past me but I didn't show as a cop was looking down the road. On his second trip out I sneaked into the car and hid on the floor in the back. 

George was telling the cops that he had never seen the horse before and hadn't a clue where it came from. 

The cops kept calling to see if an owner had been found, George wanted to know who was going to pay for its keep. Eventually after about a month George took the horse back to Ireland. When the police called he told them that we had been at a show and when we returned the horse had gone! 
I tell you he could have been an actor he was so believable, 

Another horse arrived in a load one night, a brown gelding. I rode him bareback and popped him over some telegraph poles. A young lad took him and another to bring on and resell. Next day he brought the brown horse back and said that he was so nappy he wasn't interested. He swapped it for another. 

Oh boy, was that horse something else, he would flip over backwards before you were even on his back. If you did get on him he would do a real bronc impression and had absolutely no concern for his own safety let alone yours. 
George reckoned he could cure him. 

We took the horse to the edge of the river flowing through the bottom fields. The horse was blindfolded (only way you could get on him) I was legged up, blindfold snatched away, the horse reared and went straight over into the river. I bailed, lost my balance in the mud and reed and ended in the river too.

The horse ended up about a mile away before he could get out. George went to get on him and he went straight over. 

I put an advert in the paper for him. 

_Ever since I arrived from Ireland I have done nothing but perform high school manoeuvre s. Anyone interested in a handsome brown gelding 6 years, 16 hands, please call. _

The phone was red hot. We arranged for everyone to come one Saturday afternoon. The horse was sold after showing his attitude, fetching more than the original price. 

The end to this is that about six months later he was competing show jumping very successfully.


----------



## Foxhunter

*One horse that came over from Ireland was in very poor condition. On the health check he would have been a 1. I wormed him and threw him out in a neighbouring field I was renting. He ended up with the name JSSE, Just So Sickenly Emaciated. He soon gained weight on the grass there, the only problem was that he was impossible to catch. I guess he had been with us a few months and I hadn't been able to get within 50 yards of him. 

He needed to come into work and be sold so, after many futile attempts we decided to bring in all the horses into the old cow yard and then into the cow stables and milking parlour. (Long out of use) 

Several of us drove the horses out the gate, down the track and into the yard. We closed the gate, let horses we didn't want brought in back out and the others encouraged intomthe cow sheds with buckets of feed inside. Worked well the horse's pushed and barged each other but gradually they were all insid and rickety old doors closed. 

JS finished his food and immediatly jumped out over the door which was no mean feat as the door height was only six feet and he door over half that! Unfortunately others followed suit and either tried to jump out or just barged through. There wasmwood and horses everywhere! 

JS never hesitated and cleared the gate onto the track and back out in the field. Mission aborted. 

We did the same the following week and drove the horsebox across the yard gate. I had a problem catching JS but he eventually gave in. What surprised me was that once he had a halter on he was as good as gold. 

I jumped him once he was fit, he played with fences and often just ballooned jumping me off. At one show going into the treble he bounced the one stride too one stride through the two stride cleared all and bucked on landing. I went sailing. 

One of the UKs top riders had seen him and told me he needed to go back to grid work. We went to the practise arena, set up a grid and he rode JS explaining what he was doing. As he approached the trotting poles in a nice relaxed way another horse cantered Ito a BIG practise fence several yards to the side and ahead. 
JS cleared all the trot poles in one, bucked and followed the other horse over the fence. I never brought him home as he was bought onnthe spot. He did go on to upgrade very quickly and high hopes for him being an international show jumper but he broke his leg when out in the field.


----------



## knightrider

Again, great story, but terrible ending. Can't "like" it. But I loved reading it. Thanks.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Bill was competing most weekends on Tictak. It was a hot and humid day when Bill stated that the old horse wasn't feeling right. He entered his class and the horse just didn't want to go so Bill dismounted and led him from the arena.

Next day the horse was acting like a youngster. It happened a second time and I called in the vet. Turned out that Tictak had a very dickey heart and said he should be euthanised. 
We talked about it and realised that he only time he was poorly was when it was hot and humid. Tictak lived on. 

We looked around for another place but found nothing then I received a call from the people who had bought the old riding school and asked me if I would come back and run it. In some ways I was eager and others reluctant. In the end I decided to give it a go. Decisions had to be made over the horse's. 
There was Tictak, Cheeky and Stanley a pony I'd bought. 

I gave Cheeky to the girl who had helped me out and ridden the ponies. She knew him well and loved him dearly. He went along with his tack and rugs. 
Tictak we gave to an equitation centre. The owner knew all about his heart and I knew he would never leave the place. 

He was used in the school for about five years when Alan called me to say that it was his time. The old boy had had the summer off but arthritis had been present for some time and Alan felt it not fair to put him through another winter, 

So I moved back 'home' with Stanley and a young horse Bill bought for me, Kilkarra. 

The stables had been bought by the parents of three girls who had learned to rode there. To start with they had brought in a German instructor who was very good, my sister worked for him and learned a lot. However he was not right for the place in that he wanted everyone to rode very correctly and was quite severe when instructing. This put off many of the girls from the boarding school and numbers went right down. 

He left and another man was brought it. That didn't work out at all and they had asked me back. 

I was going back on a good wage, I was also on a commission base and was to receive ten pence for every rider. This might not seem like a lot but three rides of eight riders a day five days a week and four rides of ten riders (or more) added upmto an extra £16 per week, not to be sneered at back then.

I found out that there were only about twentyfive girls riding from the school and local numbers were way down. Most had been put off by both the men, one for being to demanding and the other because he was useless and demoralising. 

I had a lot to overcome. 

When the girls at the school realised I was back even though the term had started several of the others - most had been juniors and were now seniors, asked tomstart again. In two terms numbers went up from the twenties to over 120. 

I was back.


----------



## Knave

I think you should write a book! This journal is spectacular.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Before moving home I had been taking lessons from Alan, the Equitation Centre owner we left Tictak with. These lessons were nearly always in the evening and after we would walk next door to the pub. 
Around August time the Lamdlrd pinned a large sheet of card to the wall, this had been divided into numbered squares and you bought a square, writing your name in it. 60% of the money went in prizes and the other 40 to the local Riding for he Disabled. I always bought several squares, sometimes in a line, blocks, corners or random. 

The draw was on December 23rd so Bill and I drove down. At the time I had an old Morris Minor, although several,years old it was in immaculate condition having had one elderly owner who used it in two trips a week, to church and to the shops. 

The Landlord announced at the start of the draw that if anyone won more than one prize they were to collect it. No saying draw again as it would take well past closing time. 
I won, I won a lot. First prize was a large hamper full of meat, I had bottles of booze, perfume, towels, chocolates and goodness knows what else. Alan, who had as many squares as I did only won a pack of four Guinness. As we were leaving he threw the pack into the back of the car saying I might as well have them as he didn't like them! I had given him a bottle of brandy and passed him a bottle of gin and one of whisky. 

I was driving, Bill had had quite a few drinks and had fallen asleep. We were very nearly home. I was driving through the town area. This was all on a hill so there were shops one side and a steep treed drop the other. The road was quite wide and swept around a left bend where the road narrowed and the only building on the right was a cafe next to the airport. 

As I drove into the bend a car came up fast behind me (30 m.p.h. Limit) overtook me on the bend cutting me up. I naturally braked and slowedmdown. Just around the corner there was a cop car parked. One cop was in the passenger seat and the other stood on the side of the steep bank. The overtaking car hit the back wing of the cop car and drove off. I got the registration and as I wound down the window said to the cop "I've got his number."
With that another car came racing around the corner and hit me straight up the boot. The force spun me off the road and down the bank picking up the cop on the front. He too sped off. 

I grabbed the hand brake, even shoved it into reverse but we kept going down the bank. 
Bill woke up with the impact and hismremark was, "We've got a Noddy on the front!" 
All I could think was, "I've killed him and it's Christmas, bet he's got a wife and kids." 

He was disappearing off the front and then, mercifully the car stopped. I had to force my door open and jumped out falling into a hole. The cop was flat on the ground the bumper level with his stomach. The car kept inching forward so I had to move him. Adrenaline pumping I dragged him out and to the side. Bill helped and then went up the bank to see if the other cop had given chase. He hadn't, he was a recruit and frozen with fear. Bill had him call in for an ambulance and help. 

I went to the car to get a blanket to cover the cop with. The boot of the car was pushed so far forward it was touching the front seats. As I grabbed the blanket and pulled so one of the Guinness cans exploded covering me. 

Soon there was a fleet of cops and an ambulance there. They were setting out 'Accident' signs but only a few yards away from where I had gone off the road.me, being me, told them to bloody well walk around the corner and set them there so drivers saw them before the corner. The Superintendent who came because it involved an injured cop, looked at me in astonishment and I told him that it was common sense as to where to place them!

As they stretchered the cop into the ambulance all he kept saying was, "Guy, it wasn't her fault." 

Earlier in the evening a car driving down had been forced off the road by another overtaking coming up. That is why the cop was on the bank looking at the other car. 

We walked up the the Police Station where I made a statement. I quite expected to be breathalysed but there was no mention of it. Both Bill and I smelled like a distillery. I would have passed as I had only drunk tonics all night. 

The injured policeman was off work for eighteen months with a broken neck, fractured ribs and a busted femur. 

They never caught wither of the other drivers and after all the todo I had forgotten the registration. 

The cop was wrong in stopping where he had. He should have parked in the cafe car park and walked across the road. 

Quite a start to Christmas. The only thing we recovered from the car was abottle of cheap sherry only good for cooking. Everything else was ruined. Even the towels were stained with port and red wine. Only raffle I have ever been lucky on and got nothing to show for it!


----------



## Foxhunter

* Things had changed a lot since I had been away. I had, when home on holiday gone to th stables and met Mr Fr. He had heard a lot about me and an exaggerated 'how great I was' from pupils. 

The black mare, Tank, I had ridden before leaving, had been a terrible rode for him and was refusing to jump ditches with him. She was also doing many high school movements when he rode her. The fact that none of these had been asked for, really irked him. 
On one occasion he had me rode her for a lesson. The man was good and knew his stuff but was exceedingly demanding and very short on praise. 

I was on Tank and she went really well with me in the arena and then he said we would go jump her. I knew full well what was going to happen and sure enough, after show jumping her I was told to take her round the cross country. 

One fence was an uphill or down hill with a wide dark ditch which I had had problems getting Tank to jump but in the end she was fine with it. 

There was a rail with a ditch under it. This had been dug out and was deeper and wider than before. I was told to 'pop' her over both, one after the other starting with the drop. Tank was reluctant to go towards it, I just kept my leg on, gave her her head and scratched her neck. She shot forward and nearly jumped me off. We cantered to the rail, not much of a run to it and as I turned we were on a bad stride so I left it to her to sort out. She stood off and never hesitated. I turned and jumped it the other way and up over he other. 

Not a single word of praise, just criticism on how I should have used my whip at the first and stayed with her when she jumped and that o was lucky she carried me over the rail as I was so wrong at it. 

I had the advantage of being on a horse, looked down at him and said, "Well, at least she jumped them!" 

He was a way better rider than I was by a mile am deathly then some! However he was very demanding and with some horses you are better to ask than demand. 

The sad thing was that he sold Tank without the owners of the stables knowing. There was a heck of a who ha over it all, the details I don't know. They couldn't get the horse back and not long after Mr Frank left.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The next man employed to run the place was lazy. He lodged with a family friend. My sister and another girl were working there as working pupils. Mr Frank gave them a lesson five days a week and set them homework. 
Not so with the new man! He would be woken in the morning by the friend, Sally and Annett would go round and wake him again then they would get the bus, bring in the horses and ponies and he would rock up just in time to take the first ride. They got little to no lessons and were expected to work in the evenings building more cross country fences.

My Mother, never one to fight our battles drew a line as both girls were so unhappy and told them to work their notice and leave. 

Annett was from South Africa and not at all worldly wise. Her brother lived up north and Mum called him and he gave permission for Mum to follow her gut instinct so they left. 

A very funny thing (at least to me) a few weeks after the girls had left. It was Annett's 18th birthday so a group of us decided to take her out for a drink. We went to the pub on the corner of our street. I was on crutches at the time, can't remember why, Sally was wearing a pair of jeans that she had sewn leather patches on, all the rage at the time. The dye from the leather had run when they were washed so the jeans were streaked.

The publican Stan and his wife, Mary, had taken over the place when it was refurbished and it was quite popular with locals. Mary was known to be tight as a duck's butt and that's watertight. When a packet of 20 cigarettes were an odd number of pence she would only stock 10s to make an extra halfpenny on each packet. 

As soon as Sally walked in Mary looked at her and remarked, "I hope those jeans are clean." This was am embarrassment to Sally who was very shy at the time. 

We had had a couple of drinks and I went to the bar for refills. I ordered three rum and cokes, a couple of other drinks and a Coke on its own. 
Mary, without thinking shook the Coke so when she opened it half fizzed all over the place. She wiped up the mess and totted up the round. I wouldn't pay it and said, " I asked for three rum and cokes and a Coke, not three rum and cokes and half a Coke." This didn't go down well at all and she flustered around trying to tell me that it was t her fault. 
I won. 

We were sat in a corner away from the door. There were a lot of people in there. In walked Lawless, the man running the stables. He was filthy with hay stuck to his sweater which was in dire need of seeing a washer. Mary greeted him like a long lost son.
Whether someone told him I was in there or if he had seen us in the corner which I doubt, he started to slag me off. There was soon a silence from everyone. Most of them knew me well, they knew my family, we had mostly grown up together. 

He was slagging off Sally for being lazy and what a useless order she was - with me ot was that I was the village bike and the final straw came when he asked (loving that all could hear him) how many in there had 'had' me. (The answer would have been none)

I got up and went over. It was funny how a path was cleared for me! I knew it there was any real trouble the locals would have my back. I walked up to him and stood a couple of,feet away, he turned to face me with a smug look on his face and took a gulp of his beer. First thing I did was to lift a crutch and poke him hard on the solar plexus whereby he spat his beer out! I didn't raise my voice at all but spoke to him in low meaningful tones telling him what a gutless creep he was. I continued to poke hi somhe was backing away. The locals were laughing and when he got to the door someone opened it. I gave him mad extra poke, he caught his heel on the lip and ended up sat in the road. 

There was a big cheer and much laughter. One of the locals remarked that it was good job I was on crutches or he would be feeling really sorry! 

He lasted a couple of years before I was asked to run the place.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The first Saturday there was a jumping lesson booked in. I didn't know any of the children so really wanted to see how well they rode. 

Many of the ponies had been sold by Mr Franz to cut back on the numbers as there were less riders. The real oldies were still there as part of the sale conditions was that they must never leave the premises alive. 

One of horse retained was Mars, a liver chestnut gelding that was 14.1. He was a Hackney X TB that windsucked like crazy. He had a heck of a jump but was very difficult and had to really be understood by his rider or he just wouldn't jump. 
Sally had won a lot on him and taken him to JA. Once she was out of juniors Mars had never gone as well for anyone else. 

When the children arrived one girl, Lorie, was booked on Mars. She was tiny and only eight or nine. She was a pretty little thing, her hair neatly plaited in two. I thought she was well over horses on !ars but she begged and pleaded and promised she had jumped him before. 
I left it as it was. 

After warming up and doing some grids in the arena we moved down to the jumping arena. I could see by the way Mars was jumping that Lorie had clicked with him. He was really using himself, his little ears always pricked forward and tucking his legs high over every fence. 

The lesson finished and I told the children that they could jump out over some telegraph poles. The landing to this fence was a drop going into a rise then down again. The track divided before going out of the woods into the field. The left went to a tree trunk slung between two trees, the right had no jump across it. 
The stretch of field wasn't very wide maybe 30 yards band the other side was a thicket of Hazel which had just been coppiced. (Cut down and thinned, the cuttings being used for thatching pins) The field went up to the right and round the outside of the woods back to the stables. 

I told the riders that if they wanted they could go to the left after the drop but they were to stop when in the field. The first four riders all popped the drop, I was stood the other side so I could see both fences. A couple made feeble attempts to go left but never made it, they also let the ponies take off back to the gate. 

I was waiting for Lorie, she had held Mars back and he was being very bouncy. He jumped the drop BIG - missing the drop and landing on the rise. Lorie was nearly jumped off but she recovered and hung onto her left rein to take the rail. Mars stood back a stride, he ballooned over the fence, imwell remember Lorie being out the saddle, her feet still in the irons but they were stretched above the saddle. On landing Mars swung right to catch up with the others and as he did he put in a buck bringing his butt up as Lorie was coming down. 

She went flying, all I could see was her white socks and masses of hair as she sailed through the air clearing the fence and crashing into the Hazel. 
I was running before she landed. There wasn't a sound, my heart was thumping and I really thought she had been impaled and killed. 
The relief I felt when I saw her sat there, her legs stretched out in front of her her hair all over the place, she was looking around for her boots, a tear running down from each eye.
The other riders returned bringing Mars with them. I picked up Loire's boots and she put them on and as she did said, "Bring him back and I will make him do it properly!"

A child of my own heart. 

She took him back into the arena and jumped both fences again. No problems that time. 

From that moment on I called her Hair, a name that is still with her today.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Not long after returning Bill rode Kilkarra and Mandy, the daughter of thenowner was on a big older show jumper, Felix and I led Stanley who was lame from a wire cut to his Pasternak, and took them down to the beach, 

Stanly, now four, was addicted to water. If he had a chance to grab a running hose he would soak anyone or thing near him. Felix had a nasty kick injury that wasn't healing high up on his forearm. It was summer so horses were not allowed on the beach between 7 a.m-7p.m. We gotmdown there along with the three dogs, just after 7. There were a lot of people walking around and many stopped to watch the horses. 

Before we went into the beach I bought us all an ice cream on a cone. It was also high tide so the watermwas only a few yards away from the slipway. Felix, who had been to the beach many times waded into the water with no worries. Mandy was leading Stanley and he stopped dead at the edge of the water. 
Kilkarra wasn't sure either put one foot in and whipped around. Bill lost his ice cream onto the sand and was acting the fool pretending to cry. General thought the sea was great, he was in belly deep where the gentle waves were breaking barking and snapping at them trying to turn them back. 

Mandy and I finished our icecreams and set about getting Stan into the water. Mandy was pulling the front end and I was pushing him from behind, I put my shoulder under his butt and had his back legs off the ground and still he wouldn't go. In the end I took his lead rope and waded in whereby he followed me. Mandy then took him and waded out deeper so the wound on Felix was under water. This meant that Stan was halfway up hos body deep. 

When Mandy stopped Stan immediately submerged his head under the water, he was lifting first one foreleg and then the other creating a heck of a splash. After about five minutes he buckled and got down to roll. I have seen this happen many times but all have always regained their feet before going under. Not Stan, he was rolling and all we could see were his legs. Mandy had to let go of his rope. 
Once on hos feet he shookmand snorted, waved his head from side to side and stpet out to sea. Mandy tried to catch him but he was faster. He went out past the end of the pier and turned swimming parallel to the shore eventually coming to land at the other end of the promenade. I had been walking along waiting for him to beach himself. He got into the deeper dry sand and started to roll. I walked to him and he waited until I was near then shot off and double barrelled outnat me faringnas he did so, back into the water and swam back to where the other two were, 

He would come so far and the moment someone went towards him go into deeper water. By this time we had more of an audience than the comedian doing a show on the pier did . 
In the end I told Bill and Mandy to go back up the path and I walked away but I hid in the audience, sure enough Stan didn't want to be left and came rushing out and up the slipway where he was pleased to be caught, 

Hos wound was clean and after a couple of paddles in the sea, healed completely as did Felix.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The stables had been changed around and there were a lot more loose boxes for the animals, it was far better than previously though the ponies all lived out 24/7, the only time they were stabled was the night before a show. 

There was a big young horse that had a heck of a jump but he was terribly careless over poles and though nothing of taking off the top rails, he was somewhat green and gangley. I was to show jump him at a local show. I well remember going into the ring and forcing myself to think 'legs on, keep him together' for the first time he jumped clear until a narrow fence set right by the collecting ring and I changed my thought to 'don't let him dove out' which he was known to do. He jumped it but had it down. Against all odds he actually won the class with those 4 faults. 

He was a nice horse but not the sort to be in a riding school. He was to big for any of the owner's daughters and so I sold him as a Hunter. 

Bill and I had the three dogs, General my GSD, Fancy, my Border Terrier and Holly Bill's Irish Setter. They loved it there as they had free roam. It was a year when there were plentiful rabbits and the three would go across the back fields hunting. Fancy would chase them out of the brambles and hedges, Holly would more often than not catch them and General would kill them if they hadn't died of fright. The three brought me a steady amount of pocket money as I would sell the rabbits to a local butcher. 

General was a dog and a half. Once he knew what was wanted and expected of him he was only to pleased to work and would accompany every ride he could. 
The first time he came out with the school girls was quite funny. We went down onto the beach. I sent the first pony off to canter between two breakwaters and before I knew it, General had run ahead of the pony, turned it leaving the rode sitting in the wet sand, and brought the pony back to me. He soon learned that this wasn't the thing to do! 

I have owned many dogs over the years and never had one that loved children as much as he did. One morning I had gone into town and he was in the back of the Lamd Rover. The canvas top was hooked up. I had done my shopping but couldn't get out from my parking space as a car had parked inches from my back bumper and a motorbike the same at the front. Along comes a traffic warden telling me I had been there for more than the allowed 30 minutes. I told her I wanted to leave but couldn't because I was boxed in. She was getting quite officious and Gen was watching her every move. 
In the whop we were parked outside of a woman had three children, a boy around 8 a younger girl about 4 and a toddler in a pushchair. The boy was grizzling like crazy, "I want, I want," and being a pain in the butt. The mother took him by one arm and said, "You are not having anything and if you don't stop your grizzling I will give you something to cry about!" 
He then threw a wobbly and the mother laid an open hand across his backside. 
Before I could do anything Gen was out the back and had the woman pinned against the counter. He never bit her but made sure she realised that he would should she spank the boy again! 

It was chaotic, the boy was crying, the girl near tears, the mother shocked, the shop worker near hysterical and the traffic apwarden still going on about giving me a ticket. Luckily no harm was done and the biker came so I could get away. 

Fancy started to disappear at night, a few minutes to 10'every night she would skmto go out and I would see her again until the next morning. She was also getting very fat. I thought it was the rabbits they were eating although the dogs only ever ate the heads. 
Fancy came intomseason and I had her shut up. It was a really rough day. Rain lashing down and a strong wind. I was in the office doing bookwork when I saw a man battling the weather come across the yard. 
I knew the man, he lived in the village below the stables and he had just had a triple by pass operation. He looked awaful and I brought him inside and made him sit down,
Fancy came out from under the desk and was smiling at him, her shoulder on the ground and butt in the air, pleased to see him. He was worried that I had got rid of her and proceeded to tell me that Fancy turned up every night at their door and came in. She had a saucer of warm milk, three sweet biscuits and slept in bed with him and his wife. She left them at 7.30 every morning and proceeded to visit various other elderly people in the village, getitng toast, cheese, more biscuits and treats before coming back to the stables.


----------



## Foxhunter

* General was a very protective dog, I trained him to a high level and I knew he would always protect those he knew. 

His original owner, with whom I had kept in touch, came to the Island for anholiday. They called in to see me and General. Oh boy, how that dog screamed when he saw them he was overjoyed and screaming as only a GSD can! They decided to go for a walk wanting to take Gen with them, he happily walked with them down to the village and then returned. His loyalty was to me. 

The dogs were bunny hunting down the fields and in the woods when General returned quite distressed. He wanted me to follow him. I got into the van dreading the worse that they had crossed the road and one had been run over but instead General started running down the road towards the Downland fields. We got the the furthest one and he was not sure what to do. There was no way that Holly (Fancy had returned) could have got that far in the time she had been let out. 

Frantic calling brought no results. The phone rang and it was a young lad saying that he had caught the dog and he thought she had been in the sea as she was wet. I asked him to keep hold of her until I got there but he was worried as he and his friend were meant to be catching the bus home and if he were late they would be on trouble. 

I persuaded them to wait which they did. Holly was wet all down her chest and I surmised that someone had seen her and taken her in their car. Holly was not good in a car and would throw up after half a mile, she had travellled three miles so I can imagine what state their car had been in! 

She had to suffer further travel on to where the boy's lived. It was the first time they had been allowed out on their own and their mother's sounded like mine - if they weren't home on that bus then they would suffer a slow death! 

Try as I might I couldn't overtake the bus as the roads were twisty. One of the lads mother was waiting at the bus stop and only as it pulled away did she see the boys sitting in the stable van. That made her even madder as they had taken a lift from a stranger. 

I was quick to get out and thank her for raising her boy tomdo the right thing in catching the dog and calling me. I explained it was my fault they missed the bus as they were holding the dog. 

She understood and knew some friends of mine somall,was fine. I gave the boys £1u0 (a lot in those days) as a thank you. 

General had tried to follow the car to no avail. He was with me and so pleased to see Holly.


----------



## Foxhunter

* In a year the girls from the school had gone from twenty to thirty to a hundred and forty. There was a waiting list for Saturday riding as well as many midweek rides with adults. I was on a good wage and with the ten pence per rider it added up. When it came to paying me the owner just didn't like it at all. He tried to get out of my bonus which really annoyed me. 
I am a person of my word, a handshake will seal a deal as far as I am concerned. Gradually it became untenable, I knew from the books that the place was making a good profit but it became more and more difficult to get him to buy necessities like fencing, having a reliable van, lots of little things.
His daughter who had been away getting her first teaching exam, was coming back and I decided it wasn't going to work at all so I left when the daughter came back. 

It wasn't long before the numbers dropped right down and they decided to sell and move to the maiinland. 

I freelanced for a while, Bill was working and had plenty of jobs so we were fine financially. 

We moved into a flat which was great. It belonged to a friend of mine and her children had ridden with me. In return for the flat I took care of her dogs when she was away. 
Her husband was quite a bit older than her and I wondered why they had ever wed as she was fun and bubbly whilst he greatly lacked humour. 

The property was on the river front, a beautiful house and the flat above the boat house. One day the teen children were with Bill and I and their father was out with another man, trying to clear the bouy. The tide was out so all was just deep mud. It was better than any TV programme watching the two of them getting stuck in the mud and falling over. In the end we named them Captain Bird's Eye and Captain Pugwash with Bill giving a running commentary on the events as they happened. 

I had a notion that my friend was having an affair, I wasn't sure, just a thought I had. One day both of them were away, he was sailing in France and she was meant to be in London. She had left early morning. I went up to the house to take the dogs out and as I walked up the path I thought the windows looked rather dark. When I went to open the door I realised that the house was filled with smoke. 

I ran around looking for flames in all the many windows and couldn't see any. I opened the door and called the dogs who came scurrying out. I used the phone in the hall to call the fire brigade. There was not a sign or sound of flames so I covered my face with my sweater and went into the kitchen. Nothing burning and I was able to see that the smoke was coming from the utility room. I shut the door and ran back out to get some clean air. 

The soot, of which there was plenty was greasy unlike most soot. I peered into the utility room from outside, and was debating whether to go in through the outside door or not when the fire brigade arrived. They looked into the kitchen, the smoke had mostly settled innthere and decided to go in through the outside door. 
Problem solved she had put a load of depleting wax on the stove in the utility and had forgotten it. 

The housekeeper arrived as the fire engine was going up the lane and wondered where they had been. 

The house was more than a mess. Everywhere was coated in a black film of wax. The bedrooms were OK as the doors were shut but the large hall, kitchen, utility and lounge weren't. 

Everything in the lounge was a dirty grey whereas it should have been gold and cream. Where a fireman had walked across the room where were footprints all over the carpets. It was way to big a job for Pearl to take on even with my help. 

I had been left a phone number in case of emergency. I called it and the woman who answered said she hadn't arrived. I wasn't in the mood to faff around and told her that I knew she wasn't going to arrive and to give me a contact number. I was given a number and called it. She told me to get in a cleaning company which I did. They cleaned up everything, they removed the carpets and furniture and took back to their place to clean. Even when they had finished the place was still off colour so, in came decorators and redid the whole downstairs and hallway. 

Everything was back in place when he arrived home, she paid e bills without batting an eyelid!


----------



## Foxhunter

* Back to early days

A big black horse came in for breaking. He belonged to anfarming family that sent several horses to either be sorted or broken. This horse was TB X Hanoveria. His sire was Grand Horel so he was known as Ritz. 
He was a bit of a dope and took everything with good grace. I was finally legged up on him and felt like a pea on a drum, he was so tall. I rode him quite a lot, basically he was very lazy mainly because he was in a growth spurt. The only time he ever showed any energy was one day on the beach when three of us were riding out. Margaret was riding a Point to Pointer and another girl was on Sancho. Margaret wanted to give her horse a gallop. Ritz wasn't really up to this so I was just to walk and trot behind them. They set off and Ritz plodded on behind happily walking. I asked him to trot and with that he put his head down bucked several times and took off with me. We overtook the other two as if they were standing still!

Not long after this Ritz went back to his owner and was turned out on the hills with a couple of other horses and many sheep. He stayed there for several years. 

Next time I saw Ritz was when he was leading the carnival (parade) leading was the correct word as there was a brass band behind him and he kept a good distance between his back end and them! 

Ritz had been bought by another farmer as his hunter. John was often the Field Master and needed another horse.

John had a very good mare that had won Point to Points with and had bred two foals from her. The first had been broken and then knocked her knee causing a bone chip. The second, Rhadigan, had never been handled and was now four. The only time she had had anhalter on was as a yearling when she had cut her back legs on wire and they had haltered her and thrown some powder on her wounds. 

When I started freelancing John asked if I would break her. I tried in the field but it was nigh impossible. I could catch her and started teaching her to lunge but Kito, her sister was in the way. I needed to find somewhere that I could work her without any unsolicited help. The logical place was a riding school not far away. 

This place had been a small dairy farm, bought by a family who had said they would buy the riding school when it came up for sale but bought the farm instead. They had built an indoor arena, the only one on the Island at the time. They had sold up and it had been bought by a business man for his Pony mad daughters. 

It was agreed that I could have Rhadigan there on the proviso I brokentwo of the six New Forest ponies he had bought. These were more or less wild and as they were only two, I couldn't do to much with them. 
_

To be continued ..l. _


----------



## Foxhunter

* Rhadigan surprised me. This was a horse that had been on the farm all her life, she hadn't been halter broken until I started messing with her yet she walked away from her sister and the two miles to the stables without a winney or a spook. 

She came to being lunged and long reined without much trouble but picking up herself back feet was another matter. 
As a yearling she had been caught up in wire and hadn't been handled at the time and she had learned that kicking stopped anyone messing with her legs. 
I roped her leg and pulled it forward with that and she got a bit better but, the moment you tried with your hand or to actually hold the leg she would let rip. She wasn't afraid she just wasn't going to have it happen. 

My farrier was jolly good and in the end we decided to get the vet in and dope her. It was arranged for one fine summer evening because two other farriers wanted to come watch. 

Ian, the vet, happened to be the one who had treated her when she cut herself on the wire and he well remembered her. I had worked her hard both with lungeing and riding her so she had the edge taken off her. Ian was talking about this marvellous new drug out that he would give her, Imobolin. He gave her the jab and instead of being tranquil she was down and out. The one and only time Bob ever shod a horse whilst it was on the floor! 

Once given the antidote she was soon on her feet and compliant to having her hind feet picked up. Never again was she a bother. 

She was riding well and had never offered to buck or spook until one day when I wanted to take her into the indoor arena. For no apparent reason she just planted at the end of the row of stables and refused to move. By this time I knew her well and decided to sit it out. I was just sat on her facing the arena not allowing her to about turn. One of the girls brought me a cup of tea which I was drinking when I heard her brain start to whirl. I tossed the cup away from me and she whipped 180 at the same time trying to slam my leg against the wall. I swing my leg forward and she hit her side hard. Her reaction was to double barrel out and in doing so kicked a wheelbarrow so hard it went up in the air landing against the wall of the arena making a heck of a noise and poop going everywhere. We were both covered. 

That was it, she never offered to nap again. 

Rhadigan was a mare that you had to ask and not demand, she was very bold and not afraid to get into a fight if she didn't understand what was wanted. I was having a dressage lesson on her and having trouble getting her to leg yield. The instructor was getting up there in years and to help me she approached with her walking stick pointing out to get her to move off my leg more. Rhadigan didn't like that idea and had I not been quick to turn her head the instructor would have been badly injured from those hind legs. 

There was a mainland Hunt coming over with their Hounds to hunt. John, Rhadigan's owner was Firled Master and asked if I would bring Rhadigan out as his second horse. He had absolutely no intention of riding her as the times he had she had made it clear she just didn't like him and her temper came out for all to see. 

The night before the Meet we had torrential rain and as the land that was intended for hunting was under water we went in the opposite direction. We hadn't found a fox for about an hour of casting Hounds then one broke out of some woods with hounds hard on his heels. 
The awhip of the visiting pack took off up a short hill and jumped a big hedge at the top. Harold, an ardent hunter, looked at me and said, "We can't let him be the only one to jump that!" and set off in hot pursuit. I locked on behind him and we jumped the hedge clean and three others in quick succession. Swinging left handed down a steep hill thentwo in front jumped a wooden gate. Rhadigan didn't - she didn't ever try but just galloped straight through it. It was rather like a cartoon, the gate on hinges one once and fastened the other but with a big hole in the middle. 
it never slowed her and at the bottom of the field the land owner was watching, I charged past him shouting out, "I'll call in later." He yelled back, "You go girl, show them mainlanders the way!" 

That was the excitement of the day. The rest was boring as tere was no scent at all.


----------



## Foxhunter

* When I first started with Rhadigan there were the two family ponies, Rocky and Prince and a Hackney mare, Bridget, belonging to Terrie, a friend of the eldest daughter. I knew Bridget from old, she was in her teens and was the dam of Mars, the half Hackney my sister had show jumped. Bridget wasn't an easy keeper, I well recall Terrie getting berated for having her at a Hunter Trials when she was a bit onnthe thin side. I had stepped in and had a go at the woman shouting at Terrie, it was obvious that it was ignorance rather than deliberate neglect that the pony was thin. 
Terrie had got herself a working pupil job at a riding school just down the road. I would pick her up in the morning and she would go out to the field and let the horses that needed feeding out the field (I had a few liveries at this time) whilst I mixed the feeds. We would halter them and tie them up and Terrie would walk to work and I would turn them out when they had finished. 

It was about March/April Terrie had a day off and had brought Bridget in to groom her. The mare looked positively fat - certainly well rounded. It was the first time in months I had seen her without a rug on as Terrie saw to her in the mornings. 
As I walked past I commented, "If I didn't know better I would say she was in foal." 
Terrie just laughed and agreed the mare was looking really well. 

A few days later as we pulled in the drive there was a ruckus going on in the field. We couldn't see clearly as buildings were in the way but we both ran to see what was going on. 

There was Bridget standing in the corner of the fence with five mares standing between her and the geldings. Every time a gelding tried to get through a mare would attack and drive it back. Lots of squealing and teeth and heels being used. 
On the other side of the fence was a new born foal, I guess about 5 - 10 minutes old, it was just trying to get up. Bridget was standing there sweaty and tired. I told Terrie to bring her out whilst I grabbed the foal. Had it tried to get up it would have got entangled in the harrows. As I picked the foal up so I said, "Come on Lucy, let's get you inside and with your mama." 

Terrie was in shock, she couldn't believe it was Bridget's foal. We got them in the indoor arena and made a nice deep straw bed with bales enclosing them. 

Turns out that Bridget had gone to stud but had been certified as being empty. I knew nothing of this as it was before I had moved Rhadigan there. 

All was well, Bridget cleansed soon after she was in her new 'stable' and Lucy was on her feet and feeding. 

What interested me was how the mares were keeping the geldings away from Bridget. The moment the pair were taken away, they all settled and went back to grazing.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The owner of the stables was one of the hardest working people I have ever known, hos wife too. They were successful in the business world through their efforts alone. Les owned several garages and various properties around the area. 

It was decided that I would go and buy several horses to either use in the Roding School or to sell. At the time there were many strikes going on and shipping was erratic so I was told to go the a cousin of the Irish man I had been dealing with. 

This meant travelling up country, an area I had never been to. A friend, Rachel, decided to come with me. This was a big adventure to her as she had rarely ever been off the Island. 

I had one of Les's hire cars which happened to be white. We got to the area, Wigan, an industrial area. At a garage I asked where the street we needed was, I was told to go down to the lights, turn right and ask someone along that road. We did as told. 
The road was long and straight. Row upon row of terraced houses lined the left and on the right open fields not farmed but all looking very dark. I saw a young woman walking along and stopped. Rachel asked the where the road we wanted was. The girl Tod us "Go down road bout a mile, over brae and roads on fright." She spoke with a strong Lancastrian accent and very quickly. 
Rachel looked at me and I knew she hadn't understood. I leaned across and asked the girl to repeat and tomspeak a bit slower. 
"Eh," she said, "Don't he talk fauna, just like they talk on the telly!" 

We did as instructed and found the road we wanted. Drove up it to find it was a dead end. On one side there were high pillars and a pair of wrought iron gates open, they were hanging at an angle and had obviously not been used in years. The arch over the gates had a stag on it. This sort of gates were common on the entrance to a grand house years ago. The only thing was that there wasn't rrally a drive to take us anywhere, there were many tracks all through black clinker. The gorse bushes were all black. 

I drove along a track and down a hill towards a brick built farmhouse and buildings. When we got there the place was derelict. The only sign of life was a well used railway track running a few yards in front of the house. 

We stoodmoutsodemthe car wondering what to do when a steam train came along. It slowed to a stop and the driver came down and across to us to say we were on private property. I explained who we were looking for and he proceeded to tell us where to go. The problem was he was broader speaking then the girl and I couldn't understand a lot of what he was saying. 
I asked him to draw us a map which he did but thenproblem was his hands were so dirty that as he drew a picture so he was blocking it out with dirt! 

I turned the car around and rove back the way we had come and the train shunted off with its load of call. I realised we were in an open coal mine.

We found Jim's place, another brick built farmhouse with many outbuildings all converted to stables. 

Inside the house was like something from an up market show house magazine. The walls were all oak panelled, one open room was floor to ceiling with new saddles, a small family room also panelled, and a kitchen that was any chef' dream. 

Jim welcomed us. Told his wife to make us a cup of tea and something to eat. He was broad Irish, she was Lancastrian though not as broad speaking as the other two we had met. 

She came back from the kitchen with two big mugs of tea and two plates with a sandwhich on each. Rachel (forgot to say she was a very fastidious person) looked at me and grimaced.
The mugs held over a pint of tea and the sandwhich was about six inches thick. The slices of bread about two inches, half an inch of butter on each slice and inch thick slices of tinned meat. 
The only way to eat it was to crush it together so it was squashed thinner. 

Having managed to get thensandwich down and drink the tea, Rachel asked where the loo was. She was told to go up the stairs and it was at the top. 
Rachel had gone up the stairs and along the gallery to find the loo when the door crashed open and a tribal of children marched in. Theormages ranged from about six to sixteen. The called out hellos and went up the stairs, school bags dumped in the hall. 
Rachel came scuttering down the stairs and I started to go up the stairs. She was shaking her head in a 'no' motion but I needed to potty. 

I went through the door at the end of the gallery to find the bathroom, only it wasn't really a bathroom, just a big room with a loo on one side. Three steps went up into bedroom where the girls were changing. Poor Rachel had had them all march past her! 
Upstairs was a mess in dire need of renovation. Seemed the total opposite of what was downstairs.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Jim took snuff, he didn't use a handkerchief but a towering beer mat. It fascinated Us both. One son came into the room we were in and opened up a cabinet to reveal the bigges TV I had ever see. He sat inches away from the screen and turned the volume up to deafening height. 

Jim cuffed him around the head (not in a nasty way) and told him to go get his glasses and to turn it down. The lad was obviously special needs and the only one not interested in the animals. 

No sooner out the door and Jim was yelling. Several older lads appeared and one went to fetch the car - which turned out to be a brand new Mercedes. We all piled in Jim sat in the back with Rachel and me. Four piled into the front and then another man, Cyril, piled into the back. I thought we were loaded but two young girls got into the back with us and two more teens opened the boot and sat in there. 

We went down another black track. Not far from the buildings there was another brand new Mercedes in a ditch. On seeing this Jim started whacking his eldest son about the head telling him, "I told you to get that car out the ditch!" 
How we didn't parallel park with it I don't know all down to skilful driving. 

We arrived, minutes later in a large field, probably at least 200 acres. Horses of all shapes and sizes scattered about. Everyone piled out the car and halters by the dozen dragged out the boot. 

Some of the horses were good to catch, most just moved away. Those that were caught were handed to Cyril who was none to pleased to be anchor man. Cyril was about 5'6" high, he had shoulders wider than most door frames and arms like an orangutan. His hands came down to his knees. 

Several of the horses I was interested in were right across the field so caught horses were vaulted on and ridden across to try and catch some more. It looked fun so I took a horse from Cyril and vaulted onto it. I wasn't silly, this horse had been clipped out so had obviously been ridden. I joined the others in a charge across the field. 

Catching was about 50% successful, not for the lack of trying. In the end Jim got into the Mercedes with Cyril amd Rachel whilst the rest of us started a stampede down the track back to the buildings. 

All horses in a large yard I was able to see which I was interested in. Those I didn't want were released to go back down the track back to the field. 

By this time it was nearly dark. We were offered overnight accommodation but I said we had booked into a hotel not far away. We found a Bed and Breakfast a couple of miles away and went to a pub for a meal. Poor Rachel had had quite a shock over the way things were amd we ended up shrieking with laughter. 

Next morning I selected a few to ride. Ended up with about seven but they were all horses and I also wanted some ponies. We then went a few miles away out into the countryside and to another place of Jim's. 

It was a beautiful farmhouse and had obviously just been renovated. In surrounding fields there were several ponies and I told him we would have four or five of them. 

Then came the bartering, I had no intention of paying his asking price and he knew it. Out came the whiskey. One thing I had learned was the one who got the drunkest usually lost out on the deal! 

I was sat near a pot plant and much of my drink watered the plant. I matched Jim drink for drink and won the bartering in that I got the lot for half what he was asking and he would deliver them.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The horses arrived, big posh horsebox. A liver chestnut mare I'd bought had been problematic travelling and had eventually gone down. They had got her up twice and the third time she went down they left her down where she travelled without further problems. 

I quite (rightly) expected some to go down with Strangles as most had travelled from Ireland. We did all we could to isolate but with flies around it spread. No big bother, they were out 24/7 and soon over it. 

Four or five horses were sold within a few days. 

One pony I had bought obviously had spotted ancestry, she was basically a roan with a few white flecks but her skin was spotted. She never really grew a mane or tail. She ended up with the name Charlie's Aunt. I had bought her from a field and had been told she was really a driving pony. 

Sure enough, she was! She was very concerned about a rider being above her but after giving pony rides at a fete she soon accepted a rider. However when it came to cantering she would do one stride, stop dead with her chin on her chest and bring her backside up. It was very unseating but good for a laugh. It didn't take a lot to get her to stop. 
Charlie had a wonderful nature, and apart from her colouring was a very well put together cob pony. She was wonderful with small children and Riding for the Disabled. 

One lunch time Sue and I were going to the pub to get some lunch. The pub was only 400 yards down the road. Three ponies were stood by the gate so we decided to ride across the field to the pub car park. Helen, Sue's cousin was with us. Sue mounted Stanley, I was on Charlie and Helen on Pepsi. We didn't have halters on the ponies just bareback. 
Sue set off cantering, I followed but Pepsi decided to join the other ponies way across the field. Helen fell off. Sue and I stopped and then decided we had better go see if she was OK. Sue just pulled on Stanley's mane and he turned and shot off fairly fast towards the others, Charlie followed, did one stride of gallop, stopped dead and I went sailing into a big pile of poop. 
There were several children watching and I heard one say, "Don't laugh, she might have hurt herself!" The only thing that was hurt was my pride! 

When we got to the pub several of the locals had witnessed my tumble and I had to put up with a lot of ragging for weeks to come. 

A couple of months later the Meet was at the pub and I was bet many whiskeys that I wouldn't ride Charlie. Always up for a bet I did so. By the time we left the Meet I was plastered. I tried counting how many people were out but I then realised I was seeing double. 

Charlie had done a little bit of jumping, mostly pole work and a few caveletti, the first fence we came to I was going to go through the gate to the side but she seemed keen so I headed her to the over, she ballooned over it, landed on the track, did one stride and leapt the rail into the next field. The distance was two strides for a horse and she did it with one. 

After a couple of hours I decided to take her back and to bring out the mare I usually hunted. I put Charlie in a stable and was getting Glory out when Charlie cleared the door and sisappeared up the drive and down the road. I took a halter with me to catch her. She was back with the Field having jumped the gate into it to join up with the others. I caught her and ended up leading her for the rest of the Hunt. She sailed every fence and loved it all.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Graham, the son of the owners, had started to ride some years before but had had a nasty fall and not ridden since. For some reason the moment he saw a grey pony on the load from Jim's he fell in love and started to ride again. 
The mare, who he named Grey Lace, was very green but the pair clicked. Hunting season was here and Graham wanted to follow Hounds. I didn't think that he and Lace were ready so I said he could ride but on Rocky, the pony he had falllen from. He agreed with relish which surprised me, 

The Meet was at the local pub and a big turn out. Scent was good and soon Hounds were screaming after a Fox which was running into open country. We had several jumps. I was riding Glory, a green mare that had come from Jim. We ran from low ground to high where Hounds checked for a few minutes having lost the scent across a manured pasture, and then went on again. There was a tiger trap (over) as a Hunt jump. My sister was out riding a very strong show jumper. Glory had taken well to this hunting park amd was also proving to be quite a puller. 

Whilst we were checked Graham asked me the best way to jump the fence. I told him, "Big piece of mane in both hands and shut your eyes! Just follow me." Sis and I went into the fence together, the landing was a steep downhill with the ground rising steeply soon after. We jumped together and of course the pair of horses took each other on. We were both swinging to get them back when Graham charged between us, both hands holding onto the mane and his eyes tightly shut. 
"Graham," I shouted, you can open your eyes now!"
"Not likely," he called back, "Not until I feel him going uphill!" 

Later we had a big open ditch to jump. John, the Field Master was on Ritzi who I knew never jumped ditches brilliantly. Alongside him was the Colonel on his horse, another that would look at a ditch. We were travelling at a good clip and both their horses, yards in front of me, were closing closer amd closer together, both looking at the ditch and slowing right down. I opened my fingers and Glory leapt forward squeezing between the two, our stirrup irons clinking, she jumped without hesitation and both seasoned hunters followed. When we pulled up not far on, we looked back and it was like an old hunting print with horses in the ditch, riders in the ditch, horses one side, riders the other. John slapped me on the back and said, "Thanks for the lead." 
I was pleased to see that my 'kids' were either over the ditch or in the process of jumping it, including Graham. 

When we were riding back home at the end of the day, here was a small rail to pop over, the top one having been broken earlier in the day. When Rocky jumped it he stumbled on landing and Graham fell off. Rocky took off for home, reins and stirrups flapping. Graham got up behind me on Glory until,we caught Rocky three field further on. 

It was a great day, my pupils were all red faced, tired and excited. They did their ponies over making sure they were comfortable, fed them and turned them out before going home to tell parents of their day.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The stabling at the farm was not very good. There were just four loose boxes and a shed which had been the milking parlour, where I made two more stables and there was a place to tie three or four ponies under cover. 

It was decided to pull down and rebuild. There were four men doing the work, one was my cousin, Paul, his partner Squirt, Jonah and Phillip. Squirt had ridden quite a bit as a child, Johna was a biker and never been on a horse nor had Phillip. 

It was funny as Phillip was insistent to the others that his wife, Maggie, was a lot better rider than I was. I took it with a pinch of salt as I had never seen Maggie ride. 

I had a horse come in as a remedial. It was a horse that would buck to dismount the rider. I asked the boys if they would eat their lunch in the arena whilst I rode this horse. They came in and sat in the gallery. The horse went well enough slopping around but the moment I started to asked more I could feel him gathering to freak. 

He did, nothing really bad to start, a fly leap forward with a buck on landing, I sat it out and cracked him a couple to drive him forward. A couple of tries like this he worked well. I was well pleased and about to finish, I was walking him on a loose rein to cool and he wanted to go to the door, I corrected with a strong leg and rein guide when he really exploded. We went down the long side of the arena bucking, I managed to get his outside rein tight and pulled his head to the outside, he fly left and bashed his head on an upright because I didn't release the outside rein. 
It hurt him, he stopped and shook his head side to side, ground his teeth then walked on as if nothing had happened. 

All the time Phillip had been saying how Maggie would be better on the horse, loud enough that I could hear. After the explosion Squirt asked Phillip, "Would Maggie do better than that?" 
Phillip (who had a bad stammer,) said, "Well, she is a far better cook than Linda!" 

A while later Jonah asked if he could have a go at riding, I said he could. We had a cobby pony Try, a working livery that was a great all rounder. Try also possessed a wicked sense of humour. 

I tacked Try up and Jonah disappeared to the pub. He came back quickly and was soon mounted. As soon as he was he pulled a packet of Marlboro cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. (I am sure many will recall the Marlboro ads with the cowboy.) Try wandered around the arena as I 'instructed' Jonah. After a couple of laps Jonah asked, "Is there a second gear?" 

At this point the daughter of the pub landlord who had been away on holiday came into the arena carrying a present for me. Thismwas a lollipop about the size of a dinner plate, flat with a picture on it, pure sugar and not for my taste! The child was so proud of her gift and unwrapped it for me. I could do nothing but take a lick or two. 

I had Try trot and Jonah bounced around but was pretty well balanced. 

"Third gear?" I was asked. 

Try cantered on my voice command and Jonah cantered around cigarette in his mouth. Squirt and Paul were laughing and making comments and we were all laughing, Try was eyeing me and when I didn't correct him he almost winked as if to say, "Watch this!" 

Cantering the long side Try suddenly did a right angled turn leaving Jonah going straight ahead. Jonah was sat on the floor, his cigarette in his mouth but snapped half way. 
"Well, " he said, "motorbikes don't do that!" 

Try had wandered over to me and when I was able, I walked over to help Jonah up. As I did so Tey took the lolly from my hand and ate it. 

I really loved tha pony!


----------



## Foxhunter

* We seemed to gain animals at the stables. Someone came down with some goldfish they had won at a fair and put them in the stream blocking odd the culvert with iron mesh. This gave rise to all the children bringing goldfish down when they won them at the fairs. 

Someone else brought down what was meant to be six hens but turned out to be more like a dozen plus. Poor things were battery hens and probably had enough feathers between them to cover one hen. They were fine and soon growing new plumage and laying well though all over the place. Do not believe that these hybrid hens will not go broody because they will. This lead to someone else bringing down a spare cockerel so by the summer we had hens, cockerels and chicks all over the place. 

The birds took their chances and were totally free range, they roasted high at night and we never seemed to loose many to the foxes. 

I knew the kids were up to something but I didn't know what. There was a big secret going on. Eventually I found out that a pulley had been trodden on and had her leg amputated. They knew I would kill it so kept her hidden until she was well. Known as Peg Leg she managed fine on one leg. 

Many of these birds became very tame amd the children gave them names. 

Foolishly I showed them how to hypnotise a chicken by placing its beak on a straight line. I came back from a ride to find the drive littered with hypnotised chickens. 

We had an indoor show in the winter. At the end of the day clearing up I heard mewing. One of the boys climbed up in the hay barn and found three kittens. They were old enough to be weaned. I though someone had just dumped them. 

They stayed, I had them all fixed before we had as many kittens as we did hens. 

About a year later saw one of the lorry drivers waiting to collect some ponies, making a fuss of one of the cats. I don't know why but I had a feeling he knew something about them. I asked him and he admitted that the previous year he had come back to pick up and when he dropped the ramp the kittens had run out. They had obviously gone into the lorry when he picked up the ponies. Been to frightened to come out on delivery but had run for it when he returned. He hadn't been able to catch them and knew they would have a good home!


----------



## Foxhunter

* Some people from London were moving to the Island. They had a horse that had just had a Hobday operation which they wanted to send down before they moved. That was fine, Stella arrived and had a total of four weeks standing in a stable. 
She was a big mare and I knew she would go ballistic when turned loose for the first time. Her shoes had been pulled and I had the farrier rasp her feet right down until she was 'footy' turned her in the indoor arena which was waiting for a new surface as she was feeling her feet she had a couple of bucks and then just mooched around. I turned her out in the field and she never did mess around. 

There was something about the man that I didn't like right from the start. I had long learned to listen to my inner feeling and had as little to do with him as I could. 

I did notice that the wife would often be sporting bruises, always an excuse but I knew what was happening and my dislike grew to despising the little man. 

Stella was back in work she had to have a month of walking. The husband wanted to come out on a rode with me but I told him that we would be going to fast for Stella but he insisted on coming along and then later, started slagging the vets off as the operation had been a failure. 

Usually he rode out with other liveries and they would come back saying how rough he was on Stella. 

One day I was in the pony shed cleaning up amd he came back. He dismounted obviously in a temper, grabbed the ring of the bit and started punching Stella in the face. 

I yelled out,"Eh EH EH don't you ever hit a horse like that in my yard!" 
With that he let go on the horse and ran across to where I was, grabbed the front of my shirt and drew his hand back to punch me. I was taller than him and had the advantage of being on a foot high step up. I never flinched. I stared him straight in the eye daring him to hit me. 

His wife had hold of Stella, the kids he had ridden with were watching as was Peggy, the owner not a word was said. It seemed like ages and I could see wondering whether to deliver a punch or not. 
Something must have got through to him, whether it was because I looked to the side I don't know but General had appeared. He was crouched down like a cat ready to spring. I couldn't see his nose for his lips being curled back. 
At this point I wanted him to hit me I knew the dog would do more harm to him than I could but he let me go and backed away. I told him to get in his car and never set foot on the premisis again. 

They moved the horse a few days later. 

A long time after we were having a demonstration from a renowned show jumper. The wife called and asked if they could both come. I relented and said OK. 
Parking for event was done in the top field and people walked down to the indoor arena. I was flitting about doing one thing and another. Some of the liveries were collecting tickets at the door. 
The wife comes up to me and asks if I could call General as he was in the top field amd wouldn't let her husband out the car. I whistled and General was by my side. 

People knew about the incident and after it wasn't over they were all laughing and saying the General had sat in the gallery watching he husband all the time. When they left the dog followed himto his car and watched him drive off. 

Later one of the farriers told me that he had been called to look at a new horse the husband had bought for hunting. It had been shod a few days before and had gone lame. Phil went down thinking he had put a nail to close. As he ran his hand down the horse's leg so he felt a lot of heat and the horse was throwing a splint. He explained what was happening and that the horse needed a few weeks rest to let it form. 
With that the husband grabbed the horse and started to punch ind kick it. 

Phil had no second thoughts about grabbing him and throwing him across the stable and out the door with far worse threats than the devil could make.


----------



## knightrider

I really really love these stories. I wish they were in a book. Thank you for sharing!


----------



## Foxhunter

Thank you for the compliment. 

I have thought of trying to write a book, bit like James Herriot. Trouble is I'm lazy.


----------



## Foxhunter

* One autumn a woman who was involved with the Pony Club said she would like to get a group of children together to perform a musical ride. I cannot recall how many riders there were but most were 'my' kids. 

They enjoyed it and it was great fun. All the practises and performance were in the indoor arena. 

The following year she wanted to do the same but being better weather the practises were held at the Pony Club field. This made transporting the children difficult so the ride was with other children. 

Come June I was asked if I could get a musical ride together to make it into a competition at the county show. This gave me barely seven weeks but, always up to a challenge, we performed. There were a couple of other teams competing. We came second to the Pony Club which was fair enough, they were more polished. 

It was decided to make this an annual event. The P.C. Practised in their field and did a performance at the P.C. Show in May. They had changed it from a plain musical ride into a performance. 

It was the Queen's Silver Jubilee and they had a girl, dressed as Queen Victoria, riding side saddle lead by her mother dressed as John Brown. 

Now, I have never been a bad looser but I don't like being beaten! The cogs of my brain whirled and I had an idea. We had to be great to beat them but it wouldn't be easy. 

I made many calls, and finally managed to get eight side saddles people were willing to lend me. I had sixteen children ranging from eight to eighteen riding. The girls side saddle boys astride. The girls were wearing black aprons the boys top hat and tails. Gathering the boys attire was harder than gathering the saddles. 

My Father came up,with the answer and as he had been a Pall Bearer for years he asked a variety of Undertakers if they could help. They came through and soon we had enough. 
The girls aprons were black. The material came for the local prison and was old blackout material from WW2. A couple of mothers made them. 
All the girls had new white long sleeved school blouses. I bought a length of net curtain material and cur it up and sewed frills down the front and on the sleeves. The girls were to wear bowler hats, that was beyond me to find eight so the hats they wore were felt costume hats with net around the top tied in a bow with the ends flowing down their backs. 

I had two of my youngest pupils, aged four and five, dressed as a king and queen riding in a landau pulled by Charlie and driven by Sue. Other pupils were to be the arena markers they had modern costumes, shorts, tops and a pill box hat (made from cardboard) 

They were good, everything was done at a trot, the music was toe tapping, movements were complex and they had it off pat. The P.C. went first, then another two teams and then us. 

The whole lot looked great, the foot children went in dancing, Charlie pulled the King and Queen around the arena and the riders went in and performed beautifully. The audience were all cheering when they finished which they hadn't for any othe the others. I was so proud of them all I was bursting. 

Then came the announcement that e Pony Club were the winners and we were second. There was silence then a few people clapped and others booed. Not good sportsmanship and I was displeased. 

My little King asked, "Did we do something wrong?" and it nearly broke my heart. 

It was shock result and I do say that I was, after the initial shock, angry amd wanted to know why and how we were beaten. 

All the winners got a rosette commemorating the Jubilee, we got one bog standard rosette for them all. When they rode around the arena the cheers from the audience was when they went past and not the Pony Club. 

I went to the commentator, David and the moment I walked into the commentary box he knew I was mad. He turned and said that he disagreed with the result and that he wanted to know how they had come to the decision.
Together we went to where the four judges were having their tea. Two of the judges were dance instructors/competitors and the other two were two unknown to me, horsey people. 

David asked how they had come to their decision, and one woman pulled out a brown envelope with the marks they had given. The PC at the top had received 82 the mark at the bottom was in the ninetie. I pointed out that 90 was higher than 80 and the one horsey woma said she had written the P.C. mark down to low on the page. That did it, I just turned said, "Well, thank you, I can go back and tell the children they DID win but were cheated out of their prize." 
I walked away even angrier than when I went in. 

Later, when we were packing up to leave, the two dancing judges came up amd said that they had both put us at the top but the one woman had insisted that there had been many mistakes and we didn't deserve to win. Being that they know nothing about horses they had to believe her. 

Later I found out that the one judge who had taken charge was the sister of their trainer and the other had a niece on the P.C. ride. 

Hand on heart I can say that it is the one and only time I have felt bitter and angry over loosing a competition. It wasn't for me but for the children who had put so much into it all. 

I told the show committee that I would never compete with a musical ride there again.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The following May Princess Ann and Lord Mountbatten were visiting the Island amd were to watch a big youth event. This was to be held at Carrisbrooke Castle and the day event made up of various youth groups performing. The Pony Club were asked but their ride organiser had left for the mainland so the P.C. commissioner asked if we would do it as all my riders were P.C. Members. I agreed. 

We gathered all things together and started practising. 

The events were to be held on the old bowling green, this was just outside the actual castle on the other side of the moat which had been dry for many years- if it had ever held water. 

The place we were allotted to get things ready was below the bowling green under a steep bank. All they had to do was ride up the moat into the arena. Performing immediately before was the Boy Scout Brass Band. I didn't want a band playing as they marched past the horses and saw the band master, he understood and said they would be silent. 

Two days before the display the P.C. Had their show. Sue was winning everything with her horse Ferrin, but she still had to go and compete in the trial. The P.C. Filed had been sown with a rye grass and it hadn't been topped, the ground was dry and hard then a heavy shower of rain made it all like glass. 
Ferrin lost his hind legs going out of the double, they went under him so he was sitting and sliding towards the jump, he ended up flipping backwards fortunately missing Sue but tearing ligaments so he was out of the ride - my lead and sanest of the two leaders! 

Roy, who was to ride him had to go onto a new horse, Copper, a horse bought out of a racehorse sales ring. We had all greys and chestnuts in the ride and it looked good. 
Then the day before another chestnut got kicked and was lame. No more chestnuts to pull into the ride so a bay, Prince was grabbed. We had to swap riders around but as they were use to riding each other's horses it didn't matter. 

So, the day dawned. They rode to the castle early in the morning. The day was glorious, the sum was in full bloom amd the audience flowed in to sit on the banks surrounding the bowling green. 

Various events went on and considering there had been no practise, ran smoothly. I went up to the sound people and had a reserve tape of the music just in case. The kids were all mounted and waiting in the moat. They looked so smart, Once changed they hadn't been allowed near the horses so their black wasn't covered in hair! I looked down on them and turned to see the Boy Scout Band about to finish. 
They marched to the exit and finished with a fanfare and deafening drumming. 
When I looked to where the horses had been all there was left was a lapel rose. The band went out and the kids came back laughing. They rode into the arena and Copper, on seeing the crowds immediately thought "RACING!" and set off at an on the spot canter. Roy sat still, had he coughed sneezed or farted the horse would have blown totally. 
They started the ride and soon were well behind the movements fitted to the music. I was in a stew, the sound man took the spare tape ready to run it on. 
Not given to nail biting I was chain smoking and pulling my hair out! 

All of a sudden a couple of minutes into the ride, Copper settled to a trot amd then I realised that they were fitting into the music. 

They finished on time and lined up facing the Royals, in an inverted V. One of the hardest things to get them to go was to bow in sync. We had it so Roy put his had to his hat, counted one, two, removed his hat, as he did so the girls dropped their right hand to the side and all bowed together. Then Roy would but his hat on again count, as he patted the top of his hat so they all moved off. Simple. 

It went well until just as they removed their hats so 8,000 people clapped and cheered. This was all behind the horses so the jumped forward and spun around to see what was happening. A big 'Oops' 
They got back into order and rode out the arena. 

I slid down the bank to praise them. I couldn't get over how they had caught up with the music and was told that they had missed out two big circles and a serpentine. I was so worried I hadn't noticed. 

It was a proud moment for me, not just because of the event but because of the way they had kept their cool and sorted out the problems.


----------



## knightrider

Your story about being cheated out of your win reminds me of the time my daughter was cheated out of her win . . . with vastly different consequences and feelings.

My daughter and I had taken our horses to a "fun show" which was games on horseback. My daughter did very well in her events, and the two girls who did even better than her left early. We were told, to win the championship, you must stay on the grounds and complete all the games, and my daughter clearly had more points than anyone else who was still there.

When the championship was announced, it was a child with the same name as my daughter, but a different last name. This little girl was on a rented school pony, not a very proficient rider, and unfortunately, a physically unattractive child. My daughter had done better than her at every game. When that child's name was announced as the champion at the end of the day, she was thrilled beyond words. She was just beside herself with joy. I suggested to my daughter that we not say a word about the mix-up of names and points, but let the little girl have her championship. The prize was a bag of feed that I wouldn't have wanted to feed my horses in any case. Luckily, my daughter took it with good grace, and we never said a word to anyone.

However, in your case, you had every right to be furious, after all the hard work you put into making it a fabulous performance. And not only that, the crowd agreeing that your performance was the outstanding one. We just happened to have the "World's Greatest Pony" and my daughter riding since she was 9 months old. We didn't really care about the championship as it was just a silly fun show. Very different circumstances.


----------



## Foxhunter

Well done to you and your daughter. Very different as it seems yours was a muddle from the organisers, mine was blatant! 

I don't like being a bad looser. I don't like loosing that's for sure. There is a big difference between the two.


----------



## smulemor

As a newcomer to this forum, I must say this was fantastic reading that sent me back to my own childhood. Well written and I hope there will be more


----------



## Foxhunter

* We rode a lot across fields belonging to an eccentric farmer. These were not rights of way but he didn't mind. 

This was/is a lovely farm house, built goodness knows when. They were a mixed farm in that they had dairy, beef and arable. It was run by a manager, Bill Murdoc, a true Scottish gentleman. 

The family had a large field around the farmhouse - the rest was farmed. Having said eccentric to explain. In this field they had Jacob sheep, then a rare breed. A couple of retired hunters, a pair of llamas and six or seven donkeys. They had a swimming pool built next to the house which looked so inviting. Then when summed finished there were suddenly four sea lions in residence. 

The wife suffered from amnesia after being kicked in the head by a mare she owned, she couldn't remember anything after a couple of minutes, so sad. 

We would ride along the farm track heading towards the house. The field on one side was lower than the track, the other side was another field usually down to crops fenced from the track. Ther was a gate furthest from the farm into marsh grazing. At the house it joined with a lane that ended there.
On the other side of the house was a stable block, about eight stables in a line and at the end of these was a chicken pen. 

It all started OK but the female llama died and Abdul, the male took to attacking the horses as we rode past. Majority of the horses ignored him but there were a couple that were terrified including a mare I was working on, Glory. 

Abdul would come charging along the fence line, ears back snorting and spitting, if he caught a glimmer of fear in horse or rider, he would harass that animal every time it went past. 

One day I was out with Glory and General was with me. Abdul was way across the field so I decided to take the track. I had just closed the gate and started along the track when Abdul came at us in attack mode. Glory spun around and tried to take off. I stopped her and before I could turn her Abdul had looped down the bank and was coming at us head on. 

Poor mare was dripping with fear. Every time I got so far along the track Abdul would attack. Glory had many wire scrapes on her back end fro hitting the fence. In the end I had enough we had been stuck there for what seemed like hours but was probably only fifteen minutes, I just told General, "Take him away Gen!" 
The dog leapt the fence and went for Abdul chasing him across the field at a gallop I got to the lane and whistled and Gen was soon with me panting hard but grinning, pleased with himself. 

Bill Murdoch had seen the dog chasing the llama and came out to reprimand me, I explained what had happened and that Gen hadn't done anything more than herd the beast away. I was forgiven. 

Poor Glory hated going anywhere near the farm house and would get in a right tizz if she had to. One day I had her out on her own and had ridden a different way to the farm so I never hit the track but straight onto the lane. Much to my horror Abdul and the donkeys were in the stable area. The donkeys were stood by the gate enjoying the sun. Abdul had done one of his tricks and was waiting at the end of the stable block ready to jump out when I got level with him. 

Glory, tizzed up saw the donkeysmamd wanted to go talk to them I let her and she wasn't leaning over the gate sniffing and making friends. She adored donkeys above all else. Abdul kept peeping out from his hiding place and eventually got fed up with waiting so came charging, snorting and spitting between the back of the stables and the fence. 
The donkeys scattered and Glory was so mad her friends had been driven off, she snaked her head around and bit Abdul on the neck. She spat out his fur and he stood well out of range as the donkeys came back to see their friend. 
There was a big bald spot on his neck which was white for a minute or two and then started to show red and then bleed. I felt no sympathy for him!

After that he never bothered Glory again.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The marshland area spread over several acres, in the summer the beef cows amd calves were turned out there. These were Galaway cattle, wild as heck and tough as old boots. 

In the autumn they would go into large sheds, calves would be weaned and the cows go out on high ground for the winter. However moving them was not so easy. They could spin and race away in a blink so we would have a round up every October/November. All wanted to go but only the proficient riders were allowed. We would start to gather them together, not so easy as grass was getting a bit short and they were spread out all over. You could bet your bottom dollar that they would break away and spread all over the place again. 

What we found was best was to get them as near to the bridge they had to cross, get a couple of riders to charge through them and keep going. The cattle would follow the racing horses, over the bridge, out the field, down the track along the lane into the barn. 

Saved the farm workers a lot of hassle.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Another riding school closed down and many of their liveries came to us. 

It was quite a change for them, my reputation was that I was fierce and some of the owners were a bit worried. They found that I ran a tight ship. The rules were that if their children were with me then my rules went. I would deal with problems as they arose and what happened at the stables stayed at the stables. 

One of the ponies that arrived was a Welsh Mountain, Tony. He was a good stamp. The mother of the girl who owned him told me that he had to be kept stabled as he attacked people when you went to catch him. Her daughter was only allowed to ride in the arena as he was very naughty, bucked amd spooked often dropping her. 

Not in my book will a healthy small pony be kept stabled 24/7. I came to the agreement that I would be the one who took the responsibility of catching him. 

He was a little turd to be caught and thought nothing of kicking out if you got close. Soon he realised that it didn't work amd was fine to catch. He also stopped messing about when ridden and Sharon his rider gained confidence and wanted to ride. 

I was taking a lesson in the indoor when one of the children came to say that they couldn't catch Tony and that he was kicking out at them. He hadn't done this for months which is why the kids were catching him. 
When he lesson finished I walked out into the field, there were numerous children watching. Tony was grazing across the other side of the paddock to the other horses. 
As I walked towards him I could see that he was watching me. His head was down but his ears forwards and a look in his eye defying me to catch him. 

Sure enough when I was a few feet away from him he spun around and ran back to get me in kicking range. I had the halter and rope in hand and before he could kick I whacked him as hard as I could with it. He forgot about kicking and jumped forward. I followed amd again he ran back. He got a second whack but this time the halter got caught around a back leg and I had to let go when he shot forward taking the halter with him. 

I was unarmed. I couldn't back down because of the audience so again I marched after him. Once more her started to run back towards me. 

Mentally I cussed. Then I realised that my legs were longer than his. Before he kicked at me I kicked him catching him just above his hock. He shot forward on three legs. 
I picked up the halter which had fallen off his leg and marched towards him. This time he turned to face me, walked up and put his nose in the halter. 

He was never a problem to catch after that.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I bought a small pony for next to nothing. I immediately sold him to a cousin for their daughter Lindsey. 

Lindsey and Sharon soon became fast friends. They were not allowed to ride out on their own but could do so with the older livery children. One day they asked if they could ride on their own. I wasn't really sure but decided to let them with the strict instruction of where they were to go. 

Off they went very proud to be given the chance to prove they were responsible to do as they were told. 

The ride I had let them go on shouldn't take any more than an hour. They had been gone about thirty minutes when I sent a couple of older liveries to go the opposite way, to check. This pair returned back before the two youngsters. The girls were safe, they had stopped and were making daisy chains for the ponies. They returned having taken a couple of hours to do the ride, ponies decorated with daisy chains and other flowers.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Three mares were out into foal. Grey Lace, Charlie and Big Mare. 

Grey Lace seemed to get bigger and bigger and by the time she was 300 days looked about fit to burst. I explained to the children what was happening inside and how the foal would be born. 

I had a young girl on the lead rein out for her weekly rode. She was about six. As we left the stables so she asked me, "Is it true Grey Lace has a baby in her tummy?" 

"Yes, her baby is growing inside her." 

There was silence from this normally very chatty little girl, I could almost see her brain working. 

Sometime later, " How does it get out?" 

"Through her bottom." 

"Oh." 

Silence again until we were heading back. 

"Like a great big poo?" 

"Yes." I hadn't a clue what having a baby was like but my mother had said it was like being severely constipated and having to push until it came out! 

I do not believe in lying to children no matter what age over perfectly natural events, as this girl was to young to fully understand the very basics covered it for the moment. 

The next afternoon I had her very irate mother on the phone. She was ranting and raging about bad language Becky had come out with. After this woman ranting for several minutes I got the gist of what had happened. 

She told me that she had her husband's partners and their wives for Sunday luncheon. (Anyone calling it luncheon means they are either exceedingly well educated or a snob. I took her to be the latter.) they were all at the dinner table when Becky announced, "Grey Lace has a baby in her tummy and when she has it it will be like her doing a great big poo!" 

I found this hysterically funny, the mother didn't and had sent Becky to her room. Stupid woman. 

Grey Lace foaled about 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning. A big healthy colt. All went well and I showed the children the placenta. Again I had a call from my cousin, Lindsey's mother. 

"Lindsey came home and said that Lace had foaled. She explained it all to me, how the front legs came first with the head along them, that she could see the foal's belly button and that was how Lace had fed him whilst he was growing in her tummy, and that her belly button was where's I had fed her when she was growing in me. She likened thenplace ta to a great big polythene bag which had been filled with fluid so if her belly got knocked the foal didn't get hurt. She had it all right and said babies were born much the same way."

"Now, here is my complaint." 

I was waiting for it. 

"When I asked her who the daddy was she looked at me and said, 'Don't be silly mummy, horses only have mummies, not daddies.' 
Can you please take it back a step or two?" 

Only the one mother complained, all others were grateful for their children being educated.


----------



## HombresArablegacy

This story^^^^ reminds me of time my daughter began asking me where babies come from. She was about 6 or 7 at the time, so I went to the library and checked out an age appropriate book on the subject. She found it fascinating and shared it with her friend, same age. I heard back from the friends Mom that the book was "nasty and full of filth and kids shouldn't see this stuff!"
Oh, and the Mom was (yeah) pregnant!!


----------



## Foxhunter

* I ran a tight ship. I had to as many children were at the stables all day as their parents were in the tourist business. They all knew not to do stupid things and generally it worked. 

The youngest daughter of the owners and her friend went out on their ponies. The rule was that they had to say where they were going, they didn't and went to the beach. This was not allowed as it was dangerous with so many people there and the bye law was no horses on the beach between 7 a.m. and 7 p.m. Of course I heard about it so they were banned from riding out on their own, they could only ride out with me. The duration of this was for the rest of the summer holidays. 

Towards the end of the holidays this pair were shadowing me everywhere, if I moved I stood on one or the other. I knew they wanted to ask me something and thought it was if they could go out on their own. 

Eventually I told them to either clear off or say what they had to say. They looked at each other, shuffled their feet and finally one asked, "Is it right that any animal has to be having a period before it gets pregnant?"

My heart skipped a beat and brain was thinking at the speed of lightning. I wasn't worried about these 12 year old girls and boys, they were pony crazy, but they had many friends and I thought they might be talking to them. 

I told them the truth and said that the only exception was women, ending with "It is illegal to have sex under the age of sixteen." 

They continued to shuffle their feet and look sideways at each outer and finally I was asked, "How do you tell of a rabbit is having a period?" 

They wanted to mate their rabbits. They had put the buck in with the doe and nothing happened - for some reason with two rabbits strange to each other, the doe goes to the buck. 

It wasn't long before there were baby bunnies.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The Riding for the Disabled had been running a group using the indoor arena every Monday afternoon. I became involved before we started liveries and as a riding school. I didn't agree with the way the children were being taught. All they were really getting was a pony ride not being actually pushed to do more than plod around the arena with the occasional jog trot. 

Also the children had to wear belts with two loops on them so helpers could hold a handle. This was, to my way of thinking, detrimental to the riders learning to balance plus it was hard on the helpers as their arms ached after a few minutes so they would drag on the handle. 

Slowly as we gained more ponies people stopped bringing in outside ponies and all the school ones were used. The group expanded to three sessions, first the body dosfunctional, then the mentally challenged and then adults. I had sort of taken over the teaching and pushed the children a lot more. My thinking was that if they got into the arena under their own steam whether with sticks or a wheelchair there was no reason why they couldn't ride a horse as a normal person would. 

The physiotherapist came with the children and I worked with her to work the muscles that needed working most. It was a success bar for the fact that most of the helpers were older women who couldn't keep running for very long. At a committee meeting I was told that there was no way to get younger helpers as they were at school or busy with families. I called the three Hight Schools, spoke to the Heads and asked for helpers once every three weeks. Masses of volunteers. The children came on in leaps and bounds. 

There was one little boy who was Cerebal Palsey and profoundly deaf. Peter wasn't a favourite of the helpers as he spent all the time looking around and there was no comunitaction with him. After a year it was decided to stop him and start another child who would benefit more. 

It was summer so no RDA. I was in town and saw Peter in a buggy. The woman with him was talking to another. I stopped and bent down to take Peter's hand and say hello. 
On seeing me his face lit up, his back arched, he dribbled and stiffly moved his arms. The woman felt him moving and looked down to see me. I stood up and introduced myself. She was Peter's mother. She told me that Peter so loved his riding, on a Sunday night he wouldn't go to sleep if his helmet wasn't by his bed. On a Thursday he had to have his swimming things ready for his swimming lesson on the Friday. 

I was upset that we had decided to stop him riding. He had two things to look forward to each week and we were removing one of them. Not right. 

The committee would not reverse their decision so I took Peter on privately two or three times a week, whenever his parents or grand parents could bring him. I chucked away the book that said the children had to ride with saddles. I had a felt saddle and had him riding with no stirrups. 
Peter couldn't walk at all, hos little legs were bent at the knees and given a chance he would go into the foetal position. The movement of the fat pony stretching his legs lengthened them the physio came to see and reckoned twenty minutes was akin to her giving him a two hour session. With the aid of calipers and a lot of hard work, Peter walked after a year of intense lessons.


----------



## Foxhunter

* When I first started to help with the RDA I was asked to walk with a girl of about twelve. Someone was leading the pony whilst I was meant to be holding the aforementioned strap. Her balance was quite good but she was holding her reins the wrong way. I took the rein away and flipped them and guided her hand back. She forgot all about riding and leant down and bit my hand. 

When I say bit I menan BIT! She latched her teeth into my left hand just below the forefinger. It drew blood and hurt like heck. She wasn't going to let go. I pulled my hand and she still held on landing on the floor. A couple of people came to try and help but were no help at all. Deciding that I had suffered enough I bit her back hard on her arm. She soon let go of me and before she could do anything I had picked her up and thrown her back on the pony. 

Oh boy, did that cut hurt. It must have pinched a nerve, the muscle was protruding from the cut. I lived. 

Only after was I told that she was severely autistic and didn't like to be touched. 

The next week I was told to take another child amd I said I was going to go with Annie. When I went tomcorrect her reins she bent to bite me. I was ready, as she started to bite so I did the same on her thigh. It went no further. Then she slapped me hard across the face, she got the same back on her thigh. 

The following week she actually spoke to me. As we were leaving the arena I was pushing a boy in a wheelchair and a hot clammy hand took mine from the handle, it was Annie. 

They stopped her riding as she was disruptive. 

Some people just don't like a challenge!

Another boy, Leon, was also autistic. He didn't take to riding easily but after a few weeks he loved it. He never spoke. 

It was around the second term that somehow he got out of the school and went to a woman at a bust stop and said, "Ride?" 
The woman thought he was a foreign student and put him on the bus to Ryde. He had no money, the driver also thought he was a foreigner and that he would collect the fare from whoever met him. 
Learn went to the top deck and sat at the front quite happily. The bus reached the terminus and the driver told Leon he had to get off. All Leon would say was "Ride." 
The driver realised something was amiss and called the Police. The school had reported Leon missing so two and two were put together and someone went to collect him. 

Leon started to use speech for the first time in twelve years.


----------



## knightrider

These stories are wonderful. I love them, and thank you so much for sharing them. I was a special ed teacher for many years. I taught all my kids to ride my horses. They didn't have anything special like special saddles or sidewalkers. I just taught them to RIDE. They knew if they got in my class, they were going to ride.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The adults riding with RDA were an eclectic mix. Three women and three men to start. The men, Harry, a big man in height and width, had suffered a severe stroke and was paralysed down his left side, Arthur was Cerebal Palsey and **** had a bone disintegrating problem. David found that riding wasn't helping him at all but still came to watch. The women were all MS. 

They all arrived under their own steam. The men all had three wheeled fibre glass vehicles specially made for disabled people. Two women came together and the third had her own car. They parked at the bottom of the drive. These vehicles were provided for the Disabled.

One day we had finished the session and one woman asked me if I could bring her car nearer to the indoor. She did warn me it was an automatic. That was fine, what she didn't say was that the foot controls were blocked off and it was all hand controlled. 

I started it up, put it into reverse to get it out of the line and it had enough to just go back. I put it in forward and it rolled forward. I put my hand on the control pressing down to brake - wrong! The hand control was set down for accelerate and up for brake. 

The car shot forward and smacked into Harry's vehicle, which went into ****'s which went into Arthur's which also went into the tackroom wall. 
It was all done very elegantly and plenty of witnesses, including the owners. The three men were in fits of laughter, Doreen was furious! There was little damage to her car other than a broken glass to the headlamp. 

There was an old mini we used to cart hay around the fields and Graham was quick to remove the glass from its headlight and replace in Doreen's car. 

I asked the men what to do about their vehicles as all had splits in the fibre glass. **** immediately said, "Mine was done in Ryde tomorrow." 
Arthur said, "Mine was done in Newport Thursday." Harry, who had bad speech from hos stroke, finally got out, "I did mine in Sandown Saturday." 

We had a big weight carrying mare that had a heart of gold. Harry was riding her one session when he was trotting, I suddenly saw him slipping over to the right. I yelled out for the leader to stop. I ran and put my hands up against Harry's chest under his arm as he slowly slipped towards me. 
As I said he was a big man and gravity was winning, slowly the saddle continued to slide over and I couldn't hold him. Harry ended up on top of me on the floor. He was totally helpless with laughter and came out with some comments about how to get a young woman under him.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The area where we rode around the farm could get very wet in the winter and if it was then we didn't go down there. Two reasons, first to protect the land which would dry out very rutted and to show respect to the farmer. 

Spring arrived after a wetting winter. The ground dried out a lot and the children were begging to go down there so we did. I had a couple of older liveries riding with me. The ride consisted of fairly novice children, just cantering. 
All went well, it was a beautiful sunny day and we all, including the ponies, enjoyed the rode. 

The farm was unusual even back then as the dairy cows, instead of being kept inside all winter, went out day time into fields of grass or kale. 

On the way back I realised that the cows had been walking across one field to get into a field of kale. It was liquid mud about 100 yards of it. To turn around and go back the way we had come would have made it very late for the next ride so, my orders to the children were, "Let your reins out, let the ponies have their heads, lean back and hold the front of the saddle. Keep them moving forward." 

It worked for all bar one! The Pony a girls called Lisa was riding stumbled badly and she went straight over his head. 
SPLAT! 
When she managed to gain her feet she was up to the top of her thighs and stuck fast. The Pony just went on without her. 

I went back to see what I could do to get her out. We tried with her hanging onto my stirrup and leg, that didn't work so in the end she held onto my mare's tail and was dragged, laying on her belly minus one boot, to solid land. 

Despite the sun there was a good nip to the air and the poor girl was freezing. The only dry spot on her was under her helmet. I couldn't help but laugh. I stripped off her soaking clothes, she had been riding with her jacket undone so she was wet to the skin. 

Various children stripped off items of clothing, one who had thick tights on under her jodhpurs gave her the jods. 

We arrived back, I had someone else take the novice ride in the indoor, took Lisa into the house and bathed her. I called her mother to ask her to bring dry clothes (Lisa stayed all day) it took two washes to get all the clothes clean. 

I have never brought any child back so dirty as she was!


----------



## Foxhunter

* I bought another 12.2 palomino pony and he was bought by Hair. This pony, Tog, had two paces, flat out or reverse. He was very headstrong but had met his match with Hair a great natural rider. 

She wanted to take him to a show which he wasn't ready for but who knows? 

They were entered for a riding class. This is judged purely on the rider and not the pony. The judge on this occasion was an elderly woman of the old school. 

The class entered the arena and walked around. They were then told to trot which was fine, it was the canter that Tog decided to try and cart Hair. She pulled him back to a walk amd whilst the rest of the class was cantering she walked him around the outside. They were lined up and Hair was placed about twelveth, (there were about thirty in the class) in turn each rider had to give an individual show, walk, trot, canter a figure of eight and a reinback at the end. The judge also,asked that they did this without stirrups. She told a few, including Hair, that they could keep their stirrups. Hair crossed her stirrups. 

Tog decided he wasn't going to leave the line and went into reverse. Hair kept him going backwards and then got him to go forward. He napped at the exit and did all he could to get his own way. He didn't win. 
After all had done a display the judge asked the rider in first place would let Hair ride her pony. Hair mounted and did a display on a very good pony. She did her show without stirrups. A few other riders swapped ponies including the one at the hea of the line. Tog wasn't used! 

Once on their own ponies the riders walked around the arena. Much to everyone's shock Hair was pulled into first place. 

Oh boy, did the mother and grandmother of the girl on the good pony complain. They made official objections. It was funny to listen to them moaning. The judge just said, "That pony (Tog) is totally unsuitable for any child but he girl rode it and rode it well. On your Pony she looked really good whereas your daughter had problems with a strange pony. It is a riding class and by golly, that girl can really rode!" 

The placing stood. 

Hair went on riding Tog for several years. They won most jumping classes including competing against 14.2s.


----------



## Cordillera Cowboy

Wonderful! Now I'm going back to read again how Hair got her nickname!


----------



## Foxhunter

* *Going back to the early days.* _As I walk in various places we rode other memories come back. _

It was summer with tourists galore. One afternoon ride I had a group of five or six young lads late teens early twenties, there were also several other people and some children, all total novices. 

We went around the valley instead of on the Downs. This was a very steady ride down a long steep drive running through a field. These lads had never been on a horse before but all were naturally balanced and totally carefree. They wanted to have a gallop on this ride there wasn't anywhere to canter so I told them that if they held back they could canter down the hill by the side of the road. 

I thought they would chicken out but they didn't! They stopped at the top allowing He horses to graze (yummy longer grass) then when we got to the bottom and stopped they came down the hill whooping and hollering. The horses were having a wonderful time, big fans of grass sticking out their mouths and charging when most of their rides consisted of walking and slow jogging. This was fun for them. 

Once at the bottom they wanted to do it again, I had had a good laugh so agreed. Much to my surprise they dismounted and ran, leading the horses back up the hill. When they caught us up second time I asked why they had led them up and the reply was that they didn't want to tire the horses out.


----------



## Foxhunter

* One of the biggest problems in the summer was when the horses were out on the Downs tourists would try to ride them. All of the horses were used in tie rodong school and were safe to use for total novices and experienced riders, they knew their job and, just as well they knew that when they were turned out that was their time. 

We had turned five ponies out earlier on a steep hill. This was opposite a car park so plenty of people around. They had gone to the top of the hill and were grazing together. A party of school children came into the field from the top (a right of way) and started milling around the animals. Then five of them clambered onto the ponies. 

We had finished for the day and were turning others into the field, watching tomsee what would happen. 
First off Trixie just reared vertically so her rider slid off and landed on his butt. 
Blaze did a couple of trot steps down the hill, stopped dead with his head down so his order went on ahead.
Simon just did one buck on spot, his rider went flying. 
Molly turned her head, grabbed her rider ny their jeans and pulled them off. 
All horses were watching each other. Misty, who had been standing quietly, walked to the steepest part of the hill and started to gallop straight down. The girl was screaming with fear. When he reached the bottom he swerved to the right and the kid came off straight into the gate breaking her arm. 

Another time, it was a Sunday, I had gone to bring some horses in ready for Monday (Sunday was a rest day) I had trekked to the top of the hill and as I reached to top I could see Nugget, a Shire X with four adults on her back. She was so docile that she wasn't doing anything but stand there. 
Another couple were taking photos then one of them broke a branch off a tree and walked up behind Nugget and hit her really hard across her butt. 
I don't think I had ever seen that mare move as fast! She spun around loosing her riders and open mouthed grabbed the offender by the arm and pulled them over.
She then walked up to me to be haltered. 

Another big problem was that, despite notices people would feed the horses, the car park field was the worse. This led to some of he ponies thinking that anyone would feed them, they became pushy and thought nothing of nipping or chasing each other away from a person. 

A woman was walking down the hill with two children. She was carrying a bag. The ponies started to crown her. She picking up the younger child and had the other close to her side. With her free hand she was trying to push the horses away by waving at them. 
Simon suddenly lunged and bit the child quite nastly on the arm. 

It could have been far worse. After that incident we were always careful as to what horses went into that field in the summer.


----------



## Foxhunter

* *Early Days*

The Royal Wedding today reminded me of when the Queen came to the Osland to visit. All schools were closed so pupils could go watch. 

As the Queen was to drive right past the stables we decided to go watch on the ponies. 

Ponies were scrubbed clean, plaited and we were all in our best riding clothes. 

My Grandmother had a big Union Jack which I borrowed. The only problem was that I didn't have a flag holder to fit to the stirrup so it had to rest on my foot. After a while it began to hurt so another rider said she would hold it for a while. I handed it over. 

There was a slight breeze and the flag was fluttering her pony didn't like this amd was jumping around. Then there was a gust of wind and the flag billowed right out. That was it, Frosty took off along the road flat out. Of course, the faster he went the more the flag flew! 

The rest of us just sat on our ponies laughing. Pam amd Frosty disappeared along the road and after a couple of minutes could be seen galloping along the parallel road with the flag still billowing. 

Eventually the convoy came past, we all waved and cheered and received a smile amd a wave as the cars swept past. 

Pam returned - still carrying the flag, about thirty minutes after we had. Frosty was sweaty and tired. Pam had managed to stop him as he galloped down through the top of the village. Ah e realised that the Queen would be passing as a Police outrider had come past so she stood at a road junction. She had waved the flag and got a smile and wave. Frosty was to knackered to bother. 

Guess you could say she sacked him out.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Another riding school closed and the liveries they had there had to move so several came to us. 

One of these ponies was a grey Welsh pony, Tony (he had a fancy registered name I could never pronounce!) the owner told me that he had to be stabled and her daughter could only ride in the arena as he was very naughty. 

I told her straight that I would not keep a small pony stabled but he could live out with the other ponies. I was then told he was bad to catch and would kick or chase anyone trying to do so. I assured her that I took an experienced person, would be the one catching him and that I wouldn't let her daughter catch him. 

When he was turned out he went bonkers, bucking and kicking, rolling and being a pony. Catching him wasn't to bad, most of the ponies would come to the gate and getting him in with the crowd it was simple to get hold of his halter. He was soon fine to catch and had never offered to kick or chase. 

Being turned out he was also sane and fine for Sharon to ride out with accompanied rides. (She was about 7)

One Saturday morning I had a ride in the arena when one of the children came in and said they couldn't catch Tony and he was chasing them out the field. 

I finished the ride and went out to catch the toe rag. He was out with some other ponies in the field next to the indoor arena. Several of the children were standing about. Roy, an older lad, handed me the halter and rope, he had tried and had been kicked at. 

Some of the ponies were in the top corner of the field grazing, Tony was on his own across the other side. I walked towards him and immediately noticed that he had his ears pricked and was looking at me even though he was eating. I continued knowing that he was going to misbehave. 
Sure enough, I was nearly able to touch him when he spun around and doubled barrelled at me. Before his feet hit the ground I had whacked him as hard as I could with the halter amd rope. He shot off towards the others but stopped before reaching them. 

I marched towards him and as I neared so he swung his butt towards me and lifted a leg. Again he was rewarded with the halter but, the headpiece got caught around a back leg and as he shot off so he took the halter with him. 

He stopped, the halter dropped to the ground when he stopped to eat. Again I walked towards him amd this time he ran backwards towards me. I was unarmed and knowing I had an audience i had told off for running from him, I couldn't run! 

He came back at a fair speed and as he did I realised that my legs were longer than his so when he was in range I kicked him with as much force as I could. I caught him above his hock, it hurt my toe and certainly hurt him as he shot forward on three legs for a couple of strides. He joined the other ponies. I picked up the halter and as I approached him he turned to face me. I stopped, he walked towards me, head down and stuck his nose in the halter. 

He was never bad tomcatch again. 


My young cousin, Lindsey and Sharon became great friends, they begged and pleaded to be allowed to go out for a ride alone. I finally agreed and told them the route they were to take. Off they went so proud of being allowed to do so.

The ride I sent them on was about 45 minutes. Half an hour after I had sent them off I asked a couple of other liveries to go out on the reverse route to see they were OK. 

These girls came back was before Lindsey and Sharon. They told me that the girls were fine, just making daisy chains for their ponies! 

They returned not long after, ponies bedecked with daisy chains and other wild flowers in manes and tails.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Hay was bought from the fields. This particular year it was about four miles away. For carting it we had two small tipper lorries and an ancient old tractor and flatbed trailer. 

Six of us went out to fetch some of it. I was driving one lorry, Sue's boyfriend the other and for some reason a lad called Steve the tractor and trailer. The latter was illegal as Steve was only 14 and not allowed to drive a tractor on the road but could off. 

Steve was a big lad, well over 6' amd what was unusual about him was that he had the width and muscle of a much more mature lad of his age. Two other older lads were also helping. 

We got into the fields amd started to load. Any tedious job usually leads to challenges so it was that each pair loaded a vehicle and to see who could load the most. 

We had around 100 bales on each truck and Steve and Sue were still loading. We roped the loads down knowing that we were well over loaded. Steve was throwing bales up to Sue as if they were frisbys. I called a halt as they were ridiculously high. 

The trailer did not have a front to it so we roped from front to back then over the sides. It seemed secure. 

It wasn't! As Steve drove down out of one field into another, so the load shifted forward and pulled the ropes even tighter. We took the two lorries onto the road and examined the load in the field. Steve was adamant that it would be OK amd set off along the road. 

All was well for about half a mile (narrow two track road) when all of a sudden bales started spitting out the trailer load from the front. They fell to the right just as an old lady was driving her equally old car past. Bales landed on the roof but as she came past us she had a firm grip on the steering wheel, a determined look on her face and her foot on the throttle. 

Sue and I were shrieking with laughter as the tractor, instead of slowing was accelerating down the road. 

Sue laughed out, "He's been knocked out!" 

"Don't be silly, take more than a bale of hay to knock Steve out!" was my reply. 

The tractor slowed and stopped. As the bales fell so they had knocked Steve forward and the throttle, on the steering column, had been pulled down. 

We picked the fallen bales up and threw them on top of the lorries. We tightened the ropes on the trailer and I ordered Steve that we were to go up the back lane and NOT the main road which he wanted to do. 

We managed to get back to the stables without further incident and next few loads we kept them smaller.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Before I started getting involved with the stables they had allowed the Riding for the Disabled to use the indoor arena every Monday afternoon. The group was run by several older women and ponies were trailered in for the lessons. 

Although I had had several experiences with teaching disabled the RDA was a new thing to me. 

I offered to help amd was asked to walk with Annie, a girl of around 10 or 11. She appeared to be 'normal' in that there were no physical signs of a disability. She was sat well but holding her reins the wrong way around. I took a hold of her hand to correct this and next thing she was biting me - hard just below the fore finger of my left hand. She was snorting as she did so amd was not going to let go. 

It ended up with blood (mine) spurting all over me, the pony and Annie, in pulling my hand away we both ended up in a heap on the floor. Someone was saying, "Annie, please let go!" Which was as much help as a chocolate fire guard. In the end I bit her back - hard. She finally let go. 

Ignoring the blood I picked her up and threw her back onto the pony. 

I had a hole in my hand which the muscle was protruding through and it really hurt but I wrapped a cloth around it and carried on. Later I was told that Annie was autistic and hated anyone to touch her. 

The following week I again offered to help and was told to go to some child but insisted that I wanted to go with Annie. Again she had the reins wrong and I went to correct. She took my hand to bite it amd as she did so I put my teeth into her thigh. As she went to bite so did I and it all stopped. 
there were a couple of weeks when she hit me and I just smacked her back with the same force. After a few weeks it all stopped. 

I was pushing one boy in his wheelchair out the arena, amother boy was to my left holding the chair for balance when a hot clammy hand took mine, it was Annie - her first voluntary contact with another human. 

When the next term started I was shocked that they had stopped Annie riding as she was "disruptive.'


----------



## Foxhunter

* I enjoyed the Monday afternoons with the RDA but had many reservations about the way it was going. Majority of the people involved were on the upper some of sixty and in my opinion non of the children were being pushed to actually ride but just being given a pony ride. 

The children all had to wear special belts with handles on the back for the side walkers to hang onto. I thought this ridiculous as after a few minutes the helpers hands were aching so they were hanging on and pulling down, they didn't mean to be but they were. 

I had to bite my tongue over the teaching and helpers. 

One boy Darren, started riding. He was blind after he had suffered a brain aneurysm. I would take him out of the arena on a lead rein from another horse. One day we were on our way home up a single track lane. I asked him if he wanted to rode the rest of the way home off a lead. He was thrilled at the opportunity. 

We hadn't gone very far when a herd of young heifers came galloping down the field. Neither my horse nor the pony did more than glance at them. One heifer didn't stop or turn but hit the fence and turned turtle over it landing on the bank on her back right against the pony which moved sharply to the side. 

Darren fell off, he wasn't hurt having landed on his feet. The pony just started to graze on the bank. I guided Darren by voice to where the pony was, told him how to lift his foot and get the rein out and then made him mount. We then herded the heifer back into the field via the gate. 

Walking back Darren said to me, "Do you know the worse thing about being blind?" 
"Not being able to see?" 
"Nope," he said, "Its not being allowed to do anything but I fell off on my own, I caught Rocky on my own, got his reins sorted and mounted so I can still do things can't I?"

I learned a lot from that 10 year old lad.


----------



## knightrider

@Foxhunter, you are an amazing unique person and we are lucky to know you!


----------



## gottatrot

knightrider said:


> @Foxhunter, you are an amazing unique person and we are lucky to know you!


Ditto!


----------



## SilverMaple

I love this thread!


----------



## Foxhunter

* There was a lad called Jonny who was very enthusiastic about riding. He was about 9 or 10. He had a genetic disease known as gargoylism, it has some really long name but that is what it was commonly called. 

Jonny was short and wide, his facial features were flattened to some extent and I could see why the disease was given the name. Jonny was always first off the bus and loved to help with leading the ponies to the arena. Within months it was obvious to see a great decline in him. The only thing that remained strong was his enthusiasm, 

As a fund raiser we held a barbecue with the RDA children invited. It was a great evening, lots of people cooking, big bonfire, bales of straw to sit on and beer and wine for the adults. Games were played and finally a local doctor started a sing song. I have never, nor am I ever likely to have a sing song like this one! 

By this time Jonny was very deaf and nearly blind it still as enthusiastic. Every song we started to sing got turned into 'Onward Christian Soldiers' by Jonny shouting out the words to some type of tune with such gusto that everyone ended up singing the same. 

We had to stop Jonny from riding as he was in a very poor way. He was fading fast and difficult to manage. He was totally deaf and blind and incontinent, he also exuded a horrible smell that hit the pit of your stomach. 

The last time I saw Jonny was when I was out riding and one of the nurses drove past in his car. Jonny was in the very back lying on a mattress, his body was so bloated he was almost round with two arms and legs stuck on to his body. He had absolutely no functioning whatsoever. I couldn't help but stare down at him wondering why, if God was so good, why did he have such an enthusiastic little boy suffer so? 

He died a couple of months later.


----------



## Foxhunter

* In the U.K. There are many rights of way across fields. These fall into various cattergories, the main two being footpaths and bridleways. The former for walkers and the latter for riders and walkers. 

It is up to the farmers to keep these ways clear and for the council too as many of these paths run between border lines. It usually works well from the farmers but the council never have the money. 

One are had a bridleway that hadn't been rideable for years. It ran between to farmers land and a bridge had collapsed long ago. Applications to the council for it to be opened were returned with the usual 'no money' so the Riding Club decided to hold fund raisers for it. The quote from the council was around £3,000 to open it. 

Money was raised with many functions, one being a Generation Game with challenges to the Hunt, Hunt Supporters and the Pony Club. One male and one female committeee member to represent each group. I wasn't at the Riding Club committee meeting and in my absents was nominated to represent. 

_Not sure if the Generation Game was in the US but it was very popular here for years. Two family members, one male one female had to perform various tasks and ended with two finalists performing something at the end._

The first challenge we had was to name the bones of the human body, that was easy for me as I had broken most of them at one time or another, Chris, my partner followed my lead and copied my answers. Second task was to fillet a fish - something I had done many times from a small child as Dad was a longshoreman. The problem was that the knives we were given were blunt. I solved this problem by swapping my knife with the fishmongers (I was positioned next to where he had demonstrated so it was easy.) 

The event was exceedingly well supported and get a load of like minded people out for a good time, you can bet that there is goin to be a lot of banter and there was much laughter and good spirited banter being bandied about all evening. 

The culminating act was to perform with a Yoga group something I had never done before. I was quite prepared to make a fool of myself dressed in a leotard. (Chris was a good sport and also wore a leotard which was hysterical.) much to my surprise I was able to do the exercises. I was fairly supple and had always had good balance.

With a raffle, a tombola and entry fees just under £500 had been raised, to get to the £500 all competitors stood on stage nod sang (badly) whilst a bucket was passed around for loose change. We made it to just over £600. 

The funds were going well when one committee member suggested that we could clear the path ourselves. Her husband, who worked for the council, would be working in the area with his digger and would be prepared to use it for the cost of the fuel. 

Word went around that for the next two weekends work would be on this track. We hoped that a dozen people would show but there were nearly fifty not counting children, many from out of the area so they would never use the track. On the Sunday there were even more.

Chainsaws, strimmers and people hacking away at the growth soon cleared a way down the track. The digger lifted felled trees and bulldozed a way through to the bridge. 
The RSJs were sounds the wood had long rotted so this was cleared. A few calls to farmers in the area and we had the dozen railway sleepers to make the bridge sound. 

In one weekend the path was cleared. The only money spent was on the bolts to fix the sleepers to the RSJs something like £40. Everyone had worked hard but it was in a party atmosphere so didn't seem like it.


----------



## Foxhunter

* A local farmer/cattle dealer was also the Island's knackerman dealing with casualty animals. He often bought horses and ponies and would take them to an abattoir on the mainland that dealt with horses for human consumption on the continent. 

I had known David for many years - when I was a teen and escorting the private school girls out Fox Hunting I knew I was considered an adult when Davis told a dirty joke and I wasn't sent away! 

Often David would send ponies to me rather than have them put down. Majority of times these were laminitic ponies that needed management, others were just plain naughty and needed sorting.

There was nothing underhand about this, owners calling David knew the chances were that their animal would end up in the food chain. David bought them cheaply and would never say what he was going to do with them. 

I returned from a ride to find a small Welsh pony tied in the yard. He was about 12 hands and a nice looking steel grey. A bit fat but no signs of laminitis. Looking in his mouth I read he was about 5. 

Later that evening I get a phone call from David who always started, "How you doing then?" He told me the pony was unrideable, just bucked everyone off. To see what I could do with it. 

The Pony was fine with tack and lunged well. There was nothing physically wrong with him and he was sweet natured. I had worked him on the lunge and long lines getting him quite puffed. One of the local girls, Michaela, (Micky) was around 8. She spent all her spare time at the stables. She was a tough child, very strongly built. I asked her if she wanted to get on Breeze. She jumped at the chance. We did everything in that she leant over his back and I led her around with no problem. She then got on. Feet in the stirrups, one hand on a neck strap. I had hold of the lunge line right by his head, and started to walk. Next thing was Micky was sailing through the air! Breeze had just brought his back end up without really shoving his head down. Three times he did this. 

Micky wanted to keep trying but I called in Hair who was bigger and more experienced. Again Breeze sent her flying. 

Annoyingly I had a ride to take out. I left Hair lunging Breeze and gathered the older children together and told them that whilst I was out on the ride they were to take turns in riding Breeze and to keep him moving. 

I returned from the rode and went to the indoor arena. First thing I see are two brothers arguing over whose turn it was next and to see Breeze dropping another child. 
"You lot are totally useless!" I told them, "I told you to keep him moving not to Mess around at a walk' Bring him here!" 

They led Breeze over and I stepped onto him. I had picked up two dressage whips and as soon as I was on him I sat heavy, kept his head high and my legs wrapped under his belly and used both whips flicking him hard, straight into a canter. He shot forward and I kept heavy, driving him around at a fast canter.

He was already tired, he had had at least two hours hard work, couldn't get his back end up from the way I was sitting and because I was driving him forward. 

I did a lap of the arena, I knew he was thinking but never expected him to throw himself on the ground at a corner. I came off to the side and he was on his feet before me but I stepped on him and repeated. He got to the next corner and did the same. I was ready for him and stepped off, holding h him down with a foot on his high neck. I called the children and they all piled on top of him pinning him to the ground. 

He got up, I got on and after a few cater laps on both reins he was fine. 

That afternoon he was tacked up and the children took turns to ride him and he never tried a thing to drop the riders - nor did he try things on again. 

A few weeks later he was being used for the RDA. 

Breeze stayed at the stables for many years, he was sold several times as children outgrew him. 

Several years later when I was working on the mainland, I was home for a weekend. I stopped off at a show to catch up with several friends. As I walked across to one ring to see some friends watching the minimus jumping. A child came into the arena on a small grey pony which immediately threw his little rider into the wing of the jump. 

I remarked what a dirty pony to stop like that. I was instantly told that I should know as it was Breeze. 

The kiddie was remounted and Breeze did exactly the same thing at the next jump. That was it. I marched into the arena, and grabbed Breeze whomwas happily eating the long grass. The child was upset but was remounted and I told her I would lead her. 

When I caught Breeze I growled at him and gave his nostril a hard twist. He looked at me in shock and if I could read his mind I swear he was thinking, "Oh she it, where did she come from?" 

I ran with the girl around half the course and then let he go on her own. She finished without any problems amd when she went to ride out the ring Breeze turned and trotted straight back to me. 

Arrangements with the parents for the child to have help from an older rider who could keep Breeze in check.


----------



## Foxhunter

* We had held a cheese and wine evening as a fund raiser for something or the other. It was late summer time. Majority of people had left and those that remained were mostly from the Hunt. 

Peggy drove one girl home and returned moments later to say that a wallaby was in next door farmers field. That was all we needed. A pair of wallabys had escaped from a Countey Park and had been seen all over the place but always eluded capture. 

We went up on foot and as soon as we approached the critter took off with grea leaps, clearing hedges and was on the stable land. 

We rushed back to the stables and grabbing halters wemcaught the ponies that were in the home fire
D amd gave chase. 

John, one of the Masters was tall and skinny, he ended up on Tony, I wasn't silly and had grabbed a 13.2, Wondy others wer won a vRious assortment of ponies about eight of us all whooping and hollering. Hounds consisted of General, two young Labradors and a couple of terriers. 

We never stood an earthly of catching the wallaby and sober we would have known it, lubricated, we didn't care! 

The Hunt never went on for long before we lost the creature so we started back. Rather than go down the road we went across the fields and popped a Hunt jump. One of the funniest sights I have ever seen was John (6') on Tony (12.1) going over this jump. John totally forgot his feet were about level with Tony's fetlocks and never swing his legs back. Both feet caught under the top rail and he was left without a pony between his legs before falling flat on his face the other side.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I quickly gleaned a reputation for being able to clip difficult horses with little to no problem. It was good pocket money for me and I would arrange to clip several on my day off. 

One of these horses I had to do was Ritzi, belonging to John who was the Field Master for the local Hunt. John usually had two horses and one thing I could bet my bottom dollar on was that his idea of getting a horse clean was to give it a good sweat the day before I was due and call that it. 

He had a new second horse, a TB called Broomstick. I charged £10 for a hunter clip but with John I always charged a couple of pounds more. 
The day I turned up both horses were as I expected - filthy with dried sweat and to cap it all Broomstick had terrible rain rash. 

Ritzi was his usual idiotic self thinking he could intimidate me but I did get them both done. 

A bit later John had Rhadigan home. He hadn't asked me to do the second clip, just before Christmas. I called him and he told me he had someone else who was much cheaper (£8) so thanks but no thanks. 

It didn't bother me at all. I had plenty of others to do. 

It was lunchtime Christmas Eve when John called to see if I could call in and clip Ritzi, the woman hadn't been able to do him. When she had troubles with Ritzi she moved on to do Rhadigan, John was holding her and she freaked, reared up and split John's head open. (7stitches)
There was no way I could do them there and then, I hadn't done my Christmas shopping! I told him I would call in either Christmas Day or ear,y Boxing Day before he was to go hunting. 

I was working Christmas morning and my sister Sally came to give me a hand, it didn't take us long to do the school horses and feed the ones in the field. Several of the liveries had turned up to help. 

So we stopped off at John's on the way home. It was about 10 a.m. 
Sally went into the stable to take his rugs off whilst I plugged in both sets of clippers, Sally would work one side and I the other. Well, Rit had a few clip marks out of him and that was it. John had asked if I could tidy him up. The horse needed a full clip. 

Sallmwas forkingnthe bedding to one side when I started the first clippers to oil and tighten the tension. Ritz, obviously having had a party the day before decided to freak out. For his sins he wa swhaked with the two prong handle, stood with his butt in a back corner whilst Sally held the prongs to his nostrils and through gritted teeth said, "You black beggar, behave or I will shove this prong up your nostril and pin you to the wall!" 

Funny but we were both clipping the horse and he never moved a muscle, stood eating his hay. 

John appeared (he had been milking) just as we finished. I wasn't going to do Rhadigan that day as she wasn't hunting the next day. When he asked how much he owed me I told him £20 - he didn't like it but paid me with thanks, 

One in that always got me with John was how he would always offer a cup of tea, I always accepted (some lessons I never learn). In the kitchen they had an AGA cooker. This is a big cooker with three ovens and two hot plates (with heavy lids to them) and is always hot. There would always be a teapot on the AGA and it wasn't always warm, might well have been made three hours previously but that is what you got - stewed tepid tea! He seemed to like it. I didn't. 

Some years later I was helping a friend out. She had broken her leg and ran a very busy farmhouse bed and breakfast business in the summer. 
Their farm was John's neighbour.. one morning I wasn't clearing up from breakfast when John came in. Some of his sheep had escaped and he was there to collect them. 

Jose was sitting with her leg up on a chair, her hubby, another John, had just come on for a drink. I felt one of the teapots from the dining room and there was enough left for one cup. The kettle was boiling and I took great delight in pouring John a tepid stewed cup,of tea. Jose and her John saw what I was doing and both were doing their best not to laugh. They too had sampled John's tea. I could tell by his face he didn't like it but it worked, I always got a fresh cup after that.


----------



## Foxhunter

* On a lovely spring morning Sue was out with two children on lead reins. They had ridden down the track and Sue was opening the gate into the fields when a man came along. 
"Good morning," he said, "Lovely day for sun bathing."

He was stark naked apart from shoes. He was carrying some jeans and a shirt. 

Sue gathered the two girls and trotted off. She looked back and saw him climbing through the five strand tight barb wired fence when here was a perfectly good gate to go through. 

It wasn't until the summer that this man began to appear more frequently. It was always to the children riding alone. 

The area he appeared in was not the easiest to get to, there were basically only three ways. One past the farm, another from the road across a field and the third from a farm track. Always he said the same thing, always he clambered through the fence. 

The teen children found it hysterically funny., they would just canter off. One day this man appeared before my two youngest liveries, the did the ride I had planned for them, an hour for a normal ride, for them three hours, this time in less than thirty minutes! 

Older riders set off on their horses, I covered the road and the farm track and the farm staff their road - absolutely no one to be seen. 

The police had been informed each time he had been seen but not a lot they could do.

One Sunday morning I had my Mother's Ride. A group of women who left their husbands with their children at the pub where their was a good children's playground. We were walking across one field having hadna good canter when, through the fence our streaker appeared. He walked towards us smiling and as normal, said, "Good morning ladies, lovely day for sun bathing." 

Before I could say anything one of the women replied, "Well, you should be ashamed of 'that' my boy is only four and he's already bigger than you!" 

That was it the comments cam thick and fast, each seemingly better Han th elast. 

I can honestly say he blushed from his ankles up, turned and started hurrying back to the fence. Wemwere all in hot pursuit and I got a couple of good swipes across his backside with my dressage whip leaving some really good welts. 

There is no way he could have got back through the fence at that speed without cutting himself. 

Oddly enough, he was never seen around there again.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Some of the children that came to the stables from the other riding school were terrified of the idea! They knew I was tough and thought that I would be horrid to them. 

They settled in well. The eldest Dawn, had a super grey pony Cossack, whilst her sister had another grey. Dawn was around fourteen and at he stage where she liked he pony to buck and mess around. 

We were about a week away from Christmas, I was busy getting everything clipped so Sue went out with a ride and several liveries joined her. 

Next thing a woman in her car came down. She was visibly shaken and told me she had hit a white pony. Then Sue came trotting back into the yard screaming and yelling something about Dawn and Sharon. 

There was considerable damage to the car, the front wing and both front and back doors were dented. Told the woman to go straight to her garage and see about getting it repaired. She and her family were driving to France for Christmas. 

Sue told me at they were leading Cossack back. The woman had gone by the time the ride returned a few minutes later. 

Cossack had a slice off the point of his hock, lots of blood which always looks great on a white grey but he was sound although I expected it to blow up by the morning. 

Sue told me that Dawn had been holding back the whole rode so Cossack bucked and messed about. She wouldn't keep up. The car had driven past Cossack who bucked and ran back into it. The worse part was that Sharon, the eleven year old sister had turned on the woman telling her she was a murderer and many other things. Thenwoman had mentioned this to me and bad enough hitting a pony worse to be verbally assaulted by a slip of a girl. 

I called the girl's mother to come collect them and to sort out insurance. I then went looking for Sharon tomread her the riot act about being rude to her elders. I knew it was from fear but not allowed nevertheless. I couldn't find her anywhere and non of the others would say where she was. (I disliked tattle tellers) 

Mother arrived and took Dawn off home and to get in touch with her insurance agent. She never said hat Shrin had legged it across the fields to the road and was waiting for her to pick her up! 

I knew it wasn't the driver's fault. She regularly drove past us and always slowed down when passing us in either direction. The car was sorted, they had another from the garage for their trip. 

Sharon wouldn't come to thenstables and Jean asked me not to say anything to her. I told her that I wouldn not have anyone being rude and she should apologise to the driver. She had to learn to face th music! 

She came done the next day very sheepish and I could see she had been crying. As it happened I was on the phone to the driver and made a very tearful Sharon apologise to her. 

The end of the story was some years later, Sharon, married and with two children of her own, was taking a college course. She got talking to a woman in the class and they were swapping interests. When Sharon said he rode the woman said she hated passing horses because she had once had one hit her car and that's thenowrse was a little girl called her a murderer. 

I asked Sharon if she said it was her and she said,"No way, I just said how frightening it must have been for her." 

Coward'


----------



## Foxhunter

* A friend of mine lived with her husband on a farm nestled into the hills. 

Jessie had bought a yearling Shire filly and had a lot of health problems with her, colic, from a heavy worm burden mostly. (There weren't the modern workers back then)

Anyway, the filly grew and although still very prone to colic, Jossie had started to break her. 

I called in one day after I had been sailing. I was wearing yellow boots and a yellow lightweight jacket. Jessie told me that she had Lizzie pulling the harrows did I want to,see. 

I told her I did and so we went out to the back of the house to get her harnessed. 

A tractor and several cars were parked around the house. Lizzie' stable was opposite the door with an old gate into the field which was a valley field. Harnessed up Liz was put into the harrows. To my surprise instead of having the plough lines Jossie clipped a lead rope to each ring of the bit and knotted them together and proceeded to lead Liz down the slope and up the other side. They turned and nearly back to the gate there was a horse branch which would have entangled in the harrows so without stopping Jossie bent down to toss it to one side. 

I don't know why but the moment she bent down the mare took off in a blind panic. Jossie was knocked over and the harrows ran over her. Liz was coming straight at us. I quickly took off my jacket and waved it at her but she wasn't going to turn or stop. As she went by me I grabbed the ring of the bit and turned her away from the gate. I had her on a circle but she was still going as fast as she could. 

I was gasping out "whoa there, whoa then," but she wasn't going to stop. I couldn't let go as my fingers were somehow jammed. I wondered where John (Jossie's husband and James, farm worker) were as they too had been watching. 
Jossie managed to get herself up and on hearing her voice, Lizzie finally came to a stop. 

I extracted my fingers from the bit ring. What had happened was Lizzie had put her foot far through the rope which pulled the clip tight jamming my fingers between the clip and leather. John and James had grabbed the back of the harrows and had been pulling against them! Had Liz smashed through the old gate there would have been a serious wreck with her and the harrows entangled with the vehicles. 

Liz had some nasty rubs above her hocks from the harrow chains. Jossie wanted to put her away but I said if she did then she would never get her in harrows again and told her to get me the plough lines.

I clipped them on and started to drive her. She was a bit jumpy to start and I took her up the bottom of the valley. Halfway up she leapt forward and took off. I hauled on the left line and faced her straight up the valley side. Half way up she wanted to stop but I slapped the ropes along her sides and kept her cantering, at the top she was only to pleased to walk. I drove her along the top and down where it wasn't so steep. Once agin she seemed settled and then took off again. Back up the hill we went. 
Eventually after about four hill climbs she settled and was working well, listening to both my voice and lines. Totally relaxed. 

Once back instead of putting her away we hitched her up to a farm wagon and Jossie and John took her for a drive around the village. 

I was exhausted, sweatier than Liz and with blisters on blisters in those yellow boots! I have never been able to run and probably ran further and faster that day than I had previously or since!


----------



## Foxhunter

* One incident hat occurred was when I returned to my original riding school. 

A woman I knew was having great trouble in getting a saddle to fit her horse. I had a wide fitting one that I wasn't using and it fitted well so I lent it to her. She gave me her saddle to hang onto and see if I could sell it for her. 

I was in bed and asleep when the phone rang I thought it was some of the ponies had escaped but, no it was the police to say that they had arrested this woman for stealing saddles. They were calling because she had said the saddle was mine and she was borrowing it. 

I gave them a description of the saddle - it didn't have a number stamp on it or a makers mark. I could describe it well as it had a scratch on one of the flaps and the stirrups were worn mostly on the eighth hole. 

This was all about midnight. I said I had her saddle with me and they immediately said they would send someone up to investigate and see if I had the stolen saddles. 
I, in no uncertain terms told them that if I had stolen saddles I had plenty of time to take them from the tack room and hide them and, unless whoever was coming knew tack then they would never be able to tell one saddle from another unless it was stamped.

Needless they sent someone to investigate.

Bill and I were drinking a coffee and saw the lights of a motor bike arrive but no one came to the door. Eventually I went out to investigate, there was General, paws on the cops leg making a fuss of him. The moment the cop went to get off the bike General was on guard and not allowing him to dismount. 

I took great delight in this as he was the meanest traffic cop on the Island. He gave me a parking ticket when I was totally boxed in with the Land-rover and waiting to go. 

I didn't have any stolen saddles though the woman was the one who had taken them.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Early one Friday evening the doorbell went, Mum answered the door and called me. The caller was a family friend whose young daughter rode with us. 

"I have come to ask a favour of you please," she started. She went on, "Theresa has to wear spectacles all the time and I don't want her teased, can you please stop the other children from bullying her?" 

My answer was simple, "Doubt it!" 

Next morning I was mixing up the feeds when I saw Theresa walking down the drive. Her head was down and her hand open across her forehead, "Morning Theresa," I call d out. 
She looked up amd a couple of the children helping to feed remarked, "Oh, you have to wear glasss." Another was "Hey, they suit you." 

I don't know why but for some reason I tried her glasses on. They were miles to wide for my head and the comment I made was,"Well, you have inherited the Phillips head!" (Her mother's side of the family were renowned for large heads.) 

I looked up e drive and realised that a tree at the top had leaves and I could see them! I commented that perhaps I should get my eyes tested. I did and had to get specs! 

I met Theresa this morning. I haven't seen her in years. She is a grandmother of three! She still wears spectacles and she reminded me of the incident.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Dogs played a big part in my life. When with Bill at the riding school Holly, Bill's Irish Setter, Fancy and General would go down across the fields and hunt rabbits. They caught many, Fancy would flush them out, Holly and General would catch them. I supplied the local butchers. 

One day we had been somewhere and the dogs had been shut in. On arriving back I let them out. Not long after General came running back and wanted me to follow him. He went out along the track and I followed in the van, he got to the road and seemed lost, he trotted back and forth. I was frightened that one of the bitches had been hit by a car. I drove up and down the road seeing nothing. 

Back at the stables Fancy was back but no Holly. Then the phone rang, it was a young lad calling from the next town. He said that he and a friend had caught a dog that was running about the street. He didn't know what to do with her. I told him to hang onto her and I would be there as fast as I could - about 15 minutes. 

The lad explained at he and his friend had been allowed into town for the first time and they had to catch the bus back or his Mum would be mad. I persuaded him to wait and promised I would drive them home. 

Holly was wet, she was a terrible traveller in the car and it was obvious that someone had picked her up and then when she kept throwing up, turned her loose in the town. 

The bus had gone but he boys were waiting. We loaded Holly into the van and the boys clambered in. I set off hoping to overtake the bus somthey could get on it but no chance on the narrow busy roads. 

As we drove up the hill to where the boys lived the bus was just ahead of us and his mother waiting, (the boys were only about ten) I tooted the horn and she saw the pair, I knew she was a worrier by the expression on her face which changed to anger on seeing the boys in a vehicle with a stranger. 

The boys clambered out fully expecting a right rollicking! Before she could get going I stated, "Please don't be angry with the boys, it wasn't their fault, they have been brilliant and are very, very good lads." 

I explained what they had done and my gratitude for their action. She immediately calmed down as I extolled their virtues. I gave the boys £5 for their good deed which they tried to refuse.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Just after Christmas was a busy social time. There was the Hunt Ball early January, the Riding Club and Pony Club also had Dinner Dances. 

The Hunt Ball was a challenge. Dressed all in neat bib and tucker it was always a heavy eating/drinking night. Breakfast was served at 3.30 a.m. and the Meet held at 11 that morning. So, little to no sleep that night. The good thing was that there was no hangover the next morning as there was plenty of stirrup cup at the Meet and flasks aplenty following Hounds. I do recall one day when David said if he took his hunting cap off his head would fall off his shoulders. 

One year at the Pony Club Supporters Dinner Dance someone at around 10p.m. Said it had started to snow. No one really took any notice but when someone else went to leave around midnight they said the snow was a good foot deep. 

It was. 

Things ground to a halt quickly as it was going to be difficult to get home. Les amd Peggy's son had driven to pick them up. He had the foresight to put snow chains on the car. They loaded the car up with about ten or eleven people and set sale. I had gone with a friend and we set off for home. I realised that there was no way we would get up the steep hill out of the next town. Getting to that point hadn't been to bad, main road, some salt and grit down and plenty of road useage. 

We went to go the other way but at the edge of town we both knew it was going to be impossible to get home in any vehicle. It was snowing hard, big flakes and drifting quite a bit. I had Iris drive as the car had no grip and needed a push. There I was in a long dress, stupid impractical fancy shoes and a velvet jacket. 

Luckily I kept a change of clothes in the boot (trunk) but I hadn't replenished them I did have a gigantic pair of rubber riding boots and an old sheepskin jacket, which I donned. 
We drove back to mutual friends. Iris was saying "We can't wake them up, its nearly three o'clock." 
I woke them up and they were highly amused at our situation. I left the car and Iris there and went across to road to my cousin and her husband and woke them to ask for a bed for the night and a pair of jeans and socks that I could walk home with. 

Gill thought it funny and told me I was welcome to stay but I would have to share a bed and the person in it might not be to pleased. She was right, it was my sister. 

It had been some years since we had shared a bed, she was a restless sleeper and snored back then and still did! 

Sally proceeded to lecture me on not having called Mum. We weren't on the phone at the time but neighbour would take a message. I pointed out that Mum wouldn't be in the slightest bit worried about me. 

I set out walking before seven. I was going to go through the Landslip but walking up an avenue a big branch broke off a tree so I decided a wooded walk wasn't the safest. 

The snow was deep in places, I picked my way and trudged across the virgin snow. Going down the hill into town was the riskiest, It felt like I was on skies with no poles and the jeans I had borrowed were a trifle tight. 

All in all I made the 3+ miles in good time, Mum was in the kitchen, Dad was out checking on elderly neighbour's. I asked Mum to get me some breakfast whilst I went to change, I had a 7 mile hike to the stables. 

Mum told me there was someone sleeping in my bed. 

Dad had been out the previous evening to Bingo with his old ladies, a weekly occurrence. They had managed to get back with the bus but not into lower town. Dad had seen them all home and when he got in he asked if Sally had got home. She was working at a pub. She hadn't so Dad went down to the phone box to call the pub to say not to try to get back into town. 

Sally had left early when the snow started to get bad. That put Dad in a panic. As he was rushing back home a car with a young couple was trying to get up a hill. They weren't going anywhere fast. Dad helped them push the car into the brewery car park telling them to go back to the party they had been at. 

Whilst he was out neighbour's had been in to say Sally had called and was at Gill's. Knowing the publican was worried about Sally he went back to the phonebox to let the. Know she was safe. He noticed a light on in the car and went over to investigate. The couple knew they wouldn't get back to the party and having no money on them they had no choice but to sleep in the car. 

Dad told them they would freeze to death and brought them home. She was dressed as a gypsy and he a pirate! 

They ended up,staying formabout four days before they could get out of town.


----------



## Foxhunter

* As I was eating breakfast (a good old fry up) one of the garage workers called in to tell me not to go to the stables as they had plenty of people there to help but could I see to the yearlings. 

We had three yearlings out in a farmer's field, about three miles from home. I finished breakfast, got changed and set off to walk out to the field. There was hay in a shelter there so all being well, I only had to feed them. General came with me. 

I was far more comfortable walking in my own boots and was soon over heating. 

I had to pass John's farm (the owner of Ritzi and Rhadigan) he was busy milking as his dairyman couldn't get there. 

John also had Dorset Horn sheep and these traditionally lamb in the New Year. He had all the ewes in a three sided barn but the snow had taken down the electric fencing and the ewes had gone walk about. 
I said I would feed the youngsters and return to help him. 

There was no sign of the yearlings, I hoisted a bale of hay onto my back md set to walking the length of the field in snow over my knees. At the end the babies appeared from under a thicket of thorn trees. By the marks on the ground that had been having fun in the snow. Under the trees it was twenty degrees warmer than outside. The snow was thick on the branches making it like an igloo. I put the hay out, some inside some out. They had a running stream the other side of the thicket so I knew they would be fine until the next ere was a bitter wind blowing from the south west. It was making the fallen snow drift and cut right through. 

John had finished milking and we set off to gather the ewes and lambs. 

Anyone who has kept sheep knows that they are not the brightest of creatures and these had crossed the road and made for the highest field, walking straight into the wind and, presumably snow. 

A few were huddled together but most weren't to be seen. John had a good young dog but she had broken her leg and was out of action. His old dog was old. John was worried about General going after the sheep but I knew he wouldn't. 

Walking along the drifts looking for air holes from the buried ewes Gen soon realised what the game was all about. He was running ahead finding a buried sheep, barking twice, digging a mark and on to find the next. 

We had gathered most of the ewes and several very weak lambs. John's son, James had joined us with a sled that we put the lambs on. John started to take the flock back down to the farm whilst I went to cover the far side of the field. There was a very steep bank in the far corner and Gen was standing there barking. I couldn't see anything but trusted him. Sure enough under the hedge were four or five ewes. I sent him in under the low branches and he drove them out. Luckily they saw the flock and raced to join them. Gen chased them for a few yards and then veered off. In the middle of the field was a pile of snow. I thought it was snow drifted over a dropped bale but Gen told me otherwise. It was a ewe with twin newborn lambs. 

I picked the lambs up and put them insode my jacket. I pulled the ties at the bottom of my jacket, tight so they wouldn't fall out. Ewe was t goi g to move. I tied some baler twine around her horns and then around me and set about dragging her. That was hard work then Gen, who had been checking the hedges, came and barked at her so she took off dragging me. 

Ewes all inside John and I took the lambs into the house to see if we could get them to survive. They were places over the AGA cooker, in front of the open fire in the living room, John's daughter had a hair dryer in each hand drying and warming others. 

General was outside and he jumped at the window barking. I knew it was is attention bark so went to look. He had two frozen lambs there. I took them, told him he was a good dog and he was off. That dog brought back three lambs, he carried them by their tails. Altogether he made about five trips to the field only bringing back live lambs he had dug out from drifts. 

By the time he and I got home it was getting dark. Sally, Gill amd her husband had walked over and were in the living room. Mum was baking. The dogs thinking it was normal routine, greeted me and expected me to take them for their last walk. I wasn't very happy when I found they hadn't been out. 

The reason was that they had decided to go tobogganing down the steep pavement (sidewalk) to the beach. That was fun, Dad was the fastest and the furthest by a long way. 

The dogs had good exercise running up and down as we slid.


----------



## knightrider

THAT was an amazing wonderful story. It would make such a beautiful movie. In fact, your stories would make a wonderful movie, they are so visual. I can just imagine the snow, the cold, the frozen lambs, the brave smart dog, the friendly helpful neighbors, and how tired you must have been!


----------



## Avna

I have to say, I rarely read journals on the horse forum. They just aren't my thing. But I always read yours!


----------



## Foxhunter

Thanks for the compliments, I appreciate them as it is encouraging. 

That day was pure hard work. I walked at least ten miles in deep snow - something I am grateful to not know very often! I slept well.


----------



## Foxhunter

* An Italian family went out and bought a pony for their three year old son because he liked horses. Guess it is as good a reason as any other. 

The pony was about 12.2 and as wide as she was high. Obese didn't come into it. She had a ridge either side of her spine she was so obese. How she hadn't developed laminitis I don't know but she was sound. 

The poor lad had his difference split when on her so we used one of the narrower ponies. We worked Dazzle in the riding school. She found life hard with enforced exercise, turned out in paddocks that weren't knee deep in grass and having to wear grass reins when ridden. Previously her idea of exercise was walking from one grassy area to the next. 

I had two sisters riding with me. Nicky was very keen but Jo not so much so. Jo was apprehensive and you could bet your bottom dollar of anything was going to happen it happened to Jo. 

She was riding Dazzle on a hack one morning. Dazzle was safe and a bit lazy which was ideal for Jo. We were heading out down a track when Dazzle suddenly turned and trotted into an open field full of maize which was about to be harvested. 

I couldn't see her at all, even standing on my mare's saddle there was no sign of her. She kept calling out but I couldn't pin point her. 

It was an interesting ride as all the riders spread out and walked through the corn. There hidden in the top corner was Jo and Dazzle. Dazzle was having a wonderful party eating the leaves as fast as she could. 

I did get the weight from her, took a lot of work but she was a better pony all round for it. The owner's son stopped riding after a few months and they just left the pony with us.


----------



## Foxhunter

* At the time we had five dogs indoors, General, Tammy, a rescue English Pointer, Dusty, a Cocker Spaniel, Quin, my GSD ***** a d Lassie a rescue GSD x Labrador. 

Lass was a sensitive dog, she had t been well treated by her owners and Mum started walking her as she didn't get any exercise with them. Mum would go into the house and have to crawl under the table to get a lead on her, once outside she was fine. When Mum was going away for a few days she asked if I would take her to the stables. I said I would providing she didn't go after the chickens. 

I went over to get her and crawled under the table to get her out. Put her in the back of the Land Rover and went to work. Lass was fine with everything, she acted like she had been brought up with all the animals. Next day I went in, she was under the table, and before I could do anything she took off out the open door, across the road and tried to jump in the back of the Land Rover. She got her leg caught in the canvas ties and was hanging there. Not a peep from her. 

When the people went to live abroad Mum found a lovely home for Lass but as soon as she could she escaped and came to us so she was an addition. She was never any problem. The only fault she had was that she was possessive of the car and anyone approaching to close when she was inside, she looked like a dog from hell! Anyone braver enough to get close and tell her to shut up she was fine, all mouth. Say BOO to her and she went to pieces. 

Out riding with Gen and Lass was amusing, both dogs would go either in front or behind, if Gen wandered outside of the horses it was a stern order "Gen GET IN" with Lass it was a light sing song voice of "Get in Lass," two polar opposites.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Attached to my parents house is an old fishermen's chapel which had been converted into a bungalow. In September the RDA would have six children from the mainland come stay for a riding holiday and they stayed in the bungalow. 

For several years the children came from the same school just across the water, they were all under eight and most were from single parent families. 

One year a boy had his clothes in polythene shopping bags. He had a free sample tooth paste, clothes that were all hand me downs, clean and patched and a half bar of soap. The towel was threadbare and Mum wouldn't have used to for the dogs. 

Unpacking Mum and I looked at each other and shrugged. That boy went home with two large suitcases filled with all sorts of clothes, to fit his older siblings, bed linen towels and many other bits and pieces. Mum wrote a note saying that the things had been left over from a jumble sale (rummage sale) and she hoped they would be useful, if not please give to another sale. It didn't explain the soap powder, tins of food et al that was also in there but we received a call thanking us. 

The thing that bugged Mum and I was that the RDA people took care of the children picking them up, taking them riding and bringing them back but no help with feeding, bathing or night time care. Two women from the Red Cross would sleep in with the children at night. 

Across the road from the house is a children's playground. I would take the kids across there after supper. One adult to six under eight year olds is tough. One adult to six disabled children is insanity! 

First time we went across the local children vacated all the equipment and were peeping out from behind a shed. I had one boy on a swing. He had bad balance and wore calipers which I had in hooked so his legs were bent. The others decided to go down the slide but once a thing the top the girl in front chickened out and wanted to go back down. I could see them all in a heap at the bottom of the steps, 

I yelled out "Jurgan, stop staring and get up there and help them." The lad sprinted and ran up the slide and encouraged and helped the girl down. From that moment on the children intergrated, games adapted and I had plenty of help. 

I think it was the second year that one girl arrived. She was autistic and her mother asked if we could keep a diary so when home she could be asked about her holiday. There was one big problem, Rachel was terrified of dogs and we had five! 

Mum had shut the dogs indoors when I got home with General and Lassie with me. The moment Rachel saw them she froze, shook amd then screamed. 

I made her come outside with me and made Gen sit by the big house. I persuaded her to give him commands, sit, stand, down, come, go back. Bless him he obeyed probably more from my hand signals to start but then just from her. Eventually he was sat at her feet, he rested his head up on her chest and gave her an enormous lick, starting on her neck up to her eyes. Next thing he was in a bear hug. 

GSDs are meant to be loyal to one person, I lost my dog that week, he followed Rachel everywhere, even sleeping by the side of her bed, 

We had been warned that Rachel had nightmares and sure enough her second night she woke up screaming, waking the other children who started to cry! One of the women went to comfort Rachel to meet with Gen not allowing her near. 

I had heard the ruckus and was in the door before the women had time to think. 

I comforted Rachel and she told me that a man came to get her. I told her she was a silly billy, she had General to look after her and she should have told him to chase the man. Bless her, she stopped crying and settled down happy with the dog protector thought. 

A few nights later one of the women herd her cry out and then laugh and go back to sleep. Rachel told me the man had come but Gen had chased him away and bitten him on the bum! 

Whenshe was going home she wanted to take General with her but I explained he couldn't go. She was worried about her bad dream and I told her that when she was asleep Gen would always be with her and protect her. She went home happy.

Continued.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I received a call at work from Rachel's mother. She had some questions to ask as Rachel was saying things not in her diary. 

I was asked who Snakey was, I explained it was my father's nickname. Dad was brilliant with the kids, playing rough with them and teaching them 'rude' songs. 

"Rachel says that she slept with the General?" 

_Shows how long ago this was as there was no fear of impropriety)_

I explained he was my GSD which came as a shock. I told her about the dream and the dog chasing the bad man away. She was so happy that Rachel wasn't frightened of dogs and had something to stop her having nightmares. 


The following summer I was about a mile from home. Gen was whining and unsettled on the back seat. I though he might have a bad tummy and stopped to let him out. He ran up the road and back, I didn't know what the matter was with him. 

I got home and stopped across the road from Mum's. Before I could open the door Gen jumped over my shoulder and out the open window, screaming as only a GSD can. He jumped the gate into the house still sounding like a dog from hades. 

I ran after him and there at the kitchen table was Rachel and her mother, they had come across for a day trip. They didn't know the address but Rachel recognised the street as they went by on the bus. 

Her poor mother was terrified when she saw and heard Gen racing down the steps and stood between him and Rachel only for the pair to push round her. 

How the heck did that dog know from a mile away Rachel was at home?


----------



## Foxhunter

* I had two horses come in for training, both palomino. One was a lovely strong mare for breaking the other a remedial. 

The mare was fine. The people who owned her thought themselves superior to most, especially the grand parents who had bought the mare for their spoiled rotten grand daughter, in her late teens. 

I was told the mare's name was Golden Sunbeam of Richmond Valley. (Or something like that, I can't remember) when I asked what they called her I was told the full name. 

She was a good stamp and relished being worked. She had a great character with a sense of humour. I would throw a rug in her and she was very quick to turn her head, grab it and pull it off the far side and hand it to you. Just being cheeky, not really naughty. One word and she would stop. 

One day I had worked her hard and bathed her off. She was tied in the stable with the door open whilst I went to get a bucket of water. I had thrown a cotton sheet over her back. I saw her swing her head to pull it off and called out "Ethel! Put your clothes on!" as the song "The Streaker' was number one in the charts. From that moment on she was known as Ethel. 

One day the grandparents (think Hyacinth Bucket, pronounced bouquet) came to see her. They asked one of the children where Golden Sunbeam of Richmond Park was. The girl (around eight) said, "Who?" 

They explained it was a mare I was breaking. The girl immediately said, "Oh, you mean Ethel!" 

They were not very pleased, I had to quickly say, "I only ever give horses I really like a nickname!" Which they accepted. 

For those that don't remember.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The other horse was around five years, he was a different stamp of horse, around 16 hands, very uptight. The woman who owned him was a lovely lady, only around 5'2" in height and as wide as she was high. 

Pam had never been a competitive rider. She owned a 14 hand cobby pony and they did a lot of happy hacking and fun events. She decided she wanted to do more and had bought Magoo. After a few weeks things were going terribly wrong and she couldn't get his bridle on or mount him. 

I liked the horse and started from scratch. He lunged well, long lined beautifully but was a devil to get a bridle on. His head would go way up, he would try and rush around the stable and if the halter was tied and around his neck he really freaked out. 

I started with just getting him to accept a finger in the side of his mouth, and using the running head of a double bridle with ansnaffle attached, got him to accept the bit without much ado. They piece of tack hung on his stable door and any of the older children would just go into the stable, slip it on, reward, remove it and leave him be. He was soon opening his mouth tomtake the bit with no problem. 

After a few days I decided to ride him. All sorts of tales had come with him, rearing shooting off sideways, bucking and kicking out. 

I placed a line of bales about 3 feet from the indoor arena wall, asking him to walk through them was terrifying for him. He shook amd resisted but eventually after working him three times a day, walked through the gap with no problem. 

He was a softly softly horse, no change in heart beat or he worried and tensed up. 

I decided that as he was confident with me on the ground I would get one of the better riders to get on him. He walked through the gap but when Nicky stood on the bales he freaked, smashing into me sending me for six. He was expecting a hammering when I caught him bit I did nothing, just had Nicky stand by the bales and led him through. Slowly he was happy with severalmchildren standing on the bales whilst he walked through. 

The following day Nicky stood there and he was happy with that but the moment she picked up the reins to mount he went as stiff as a board and the sweat flowed off him as if he had just been bathed. Nicky fiddled with the saddle flapped the stirrup and after a few minutes he was happy for her to stand in the stirrup. 
She mounted and I led her forward. Nicky had a firm hold on the neck strap! After a few steps Magoo heaved a great sigh and was totally relaxed. I let him off the lunge and he worked around the arena beautifully. He was looking to take a contact and was happy at all paces. 

I was perplexed as to why he was such a wreck. It didn't make sense to me. . Pam, his owner was not the sort to abuse any animal but something had gone wrong. 

Magoo was ridden a lot by Nicky, she hacked him out, rode him in the arena and jumped him. He was in a normal bridle with no issues and totally relaxed. 

I called Pam to come over and watch him work. She did so and sat in the gallery whilst I lunged him and Nicky rode him. During this time she ate three whole packets of biscuits. (Cookies)

I asked her to come and lunge Magoo. She did and within two trot circles, he was lame. Change the rein and he was lame on the other leg. I had Nicky lunge him and he was fine. 

Pam led him out the arena and went to untack him. When she went to remove the bridle instead of allowing him to drop the bit she just pulled the bridle away so it clanked on his teeth. I asked her to bridle him and it was so rough I could see why the issue had arisen. 

A few days later Pam came to rode him. We always mounted from the mounting block but she wanted to mount from the ground. This again was the cause of the issue. She just didn't know, she had problems reaching the iron with her foot and then hauled on the front and back of the saddle and his mouth. 

All in all this pair were never going to gel. Her pony was the sort that suffered in silence Magoo wasn't the type. 

I persuaded her to try another horse I had for sale. He was about 15.1, cobby type and much like a bigger version of her pony. All to pleased with the idea, we did a straight swap. 

I kept Magoo for a couple of months and then sold him to a young girl who wanted to compete. They did really well together.


----------



## knightrider

And what happened with the spoiled granddaughter and the pali with the fancy name?


----------



## Foxhunter

Not sure, they were working well together then the girl went off with some low life boy! (Or so I heard!)


----------



## Foxhunter

* _Out this morning I recalled another incident when I was with Margaret and Guy. _

The pony race course the Mr Lipton had sold to Cadbury, was just across the road. When it had all been sorted with the horses Cadbury allowed a remote controlled plane Club to use the land. That was fine but they always flew over our land, never over the racecourse. It was more than annoying with that high pitched whine and buzzing of the planes. 

Guy worked hard in an office all week and liked to relax and potter at the weekends. He liked to lie on s sun lounger on the patio watching the cricket. With the planes it was nigh impossible to go outside. There were always a lot of them.

Guy had, more than once gone over and asked them to fly the other way but they wouldn't. 

One weekend two of Guy's friends came down for the weekend. There were a few planes flying on the Friday evening and they started around 7 a.m on the Saturday. By midday David, one of the friends, stormed off saying, " I was invited here for peace and quiet. I've had enough of this." He stormed out the house and drove off in a cloud of dust. 

That evening he returned in a large battered van. On opening the doors he revealed the van was packed solid with firework rockets of all sizes. Where he managed to ge them from goodness knows! 

We spent the evening digging various containers tha the rosiest could be set off from into the pond field. Sunday morning battle commenced, 

We waited until there were several planes in the air before lighting the fuses. One rocket clipped the wing of one small plane but another two swerved into each other and the biggest came down behind the house in Mr Lipton's field. Guy legged it across our field, over the fences and ditch Andrews was waiting for the owner to collect it. When the owner got close Guy jumped on the wings ensuring that it wouldn't fly again that day! 

It was great fun but didn't stop them flying over us. Guy had a gun license and bought himself a clay pigeon trap. He would invite shooting friends over for he weekend and they would go into the field to practise. They were mostly rotten shots as they kept missing th clays but hitting the planes instead. After about six were shot down over the weekend the club went elsewhere.


----------



## knightrider

@bsms posted this video and it so reminded me of your story. If it doesn't work, ask bsms to post it for you.


----------



## Foxhunter

Thanks for posting that - it was just what it was like except there were twenty plus of the darn things.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Another memory of Margaret and Guy's. 

We had a pony livery, a very nice blue roan coloured gelding about 13.2 called Puzzle. The owner was a very twee woman in her late forties and daughter about eleven. 
In the summer they went to shows every weekend, they only ever did turn out classes, judged on the cleanliness and turn out of horse and rider so Puzzle had to be in tip top condition. 

Usually these classes were one of the first held at shows so I would have very early starts to plait him up and load him for them.

Although very nice people there was something odd about them. The daughter rarely ever rode other than at shows, they would turn up with trailer in tow. Tack carefully loaded in the back of the car, pony bandaged to keep him clean and off they would go. 

Margaret offered for them to leave the trailer but they never did and said they left it at a friend's. What was strange was that often the trailers were different. 

Anyway, this early morning was thick fog. Visibility down to around twenty feet, a real pea souper as we say here. I heard the gravel crunching before I could see the car coming down the drive. When i went to greet them I saw they didn't have a trailer. 

They had hitched up and not done it correctly so the trailer had dropped off without her realising it! 

As said, they were strange people and stopped paying livery, Guy put a lien on Puzzle until they paid up.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I first met Nicola out Hunting. She was new to the Island, her husband was a GP. Nicola had bought a horse in poor condition. He had come over from Ireland and was kept with a man called Eamon. 

Nicola and Charl s had bought an old farmhouse which was being renovated and extended. Most of the work had been done on it and when I drove past, before knowing Nicola, I was pleased to see the buldomg s being brought together and the house being resurrected but totally horrified to see it painted pink. When I met Nick and she told me they had bought the farm my immediate reaction was to ask, "Whu the heck have you painted it that ghastly PINK?" 

After a hunting season with Murphy at livery Nicola brought him home. He gained a lot of condition and was becoming a very solid cob. 

Nicola asked if I would go and clip him ready for the following season and told me he had been very problematic to do the previous year. 

I put the clippers on and he looked slyly at me. I gave him a poke with my finger and that was it. He didn't move a muscle. He looked great except he had a very bushy mane that was difficult to plait. I pulled his tail and his mane to make it easier for Nick. 

Murphy had a lot of character not all of it pleasant, he refused to load in a trailer or a horsebox and if anyone tried to force him he would be really nasty and gave several people who had tried some bad injuries with any one of his feet or his teeth. 

Nicola was very keen on her hunting and so would hack to and from every meet, often a 10 mile ride there and ditto home. She never left the Hunt much before the end of the day and in three seasons only missed two Bye Days so they were out five days every two weeks. Murphy was really fit as was Nicky. 

Murph would use his strength if it suited him. There were time when he would spin around and fly leap back down the road and refuse to go past whatever gremlin he imagined. Nicola wasn't strong enough to prevent him doing this so she would periodically call me to come ride him. I would get on him and sit like a total novice so he would take advantage but I was always ready for his antics and when he tried to spin I would haul him back and at the same time use my whip and spurs. It worked several times and then he stopped falling for it and wouldn't try a thing with me. 

It must have been about the third year I went to clip him. My sister Sally was with me as we were going to clip another horse that was difficult. We put both pairs of clippers on and had Murphy done in short time. I had previously suggested to Nicky that she hogged (roached ) his mane, she wasn't sure. Sally agreed with me and when Nicky went to make a drink I took half his mane off! The rest soon followed and he looked stunning. 

Murphy moved like a dream, he was straight and covered a lot of ground. Nicky had schooled him a lot and although he was inclined to go on his forehand at times, he was a great ride. 

Nicola called me and asked if I would go over and rode Murphy sidesaddle. I agreed. Now Murphy gained weight just breathing so in the summer he was inclined to get obese - which he was when I called in. We tacked him up which was like putting a saddle on a barrel. I had a struggle getting the balance strap done up and when I did it disappeared between to rolls of fat on either side. 

Nicky suggested that we went up the hill behind the house and rode in the flat field at the top. This field was used for growing potatoes. At the time we were having a hot summer and everywhere was dry and ground hard. As we went up the hill between the rows of spuds to get to the top so the water sprinklers cam on making quite a noise. Murphy spun left and went leaping sideways down the hill. I didn't feel safe at all and realised that the ground was coming closer. I had no problem in falling off and Murphy just charged back to his stable where we found him standing perfectly relaxed, the saddle around his belly. 

He looked at me and I swear he was smirking at my having fallen off him. I put his normal saddle on and rode him back up the hill through the sprinklers with no problem.


----------



## Foxhunter

* There were many times when I house and animal sat for Nicky and Charles. They knew the dogs, cats and Murphy would be well cared for.

On one occasion I went to bed, it was summer and the weather hot(ish) so I opened the window on one side of the room. Immediately I did so cluster flies that had somehow got in the frame all flew into the room. I immediately pulled the curtains only to find more in the folds. It was like something from a Hitchcock film. 
I left the room post haste slamming the door behind me. I found some fly spray. Went back into the room, opened the other windows and pulled the curtains to be met with another swarm of flies. 

I sprayed the can all around went out and slept in Alexander's room. In the morning there was a black covering over everything in the room, filled three vacuum bags. 

Another time I was watching TV in the snug. There was only a chair and sofa, both with wooden legs well off the floor, a standard lamp , TV and a wood burning stove. I had dozed off and when I opened my eyes I thought I saw something go across the floor. I investigated and saw a big male rat in the corner. The car had probably brought it in and let it go. 

I went out to get Hannah my cousin's GSD I was training (she was a fighter) Hannah saw the rat and chased it into another corner, she went to kill it and then stopped, looked at me as if to say, "Oh, I'm not allowed to chase or kill things when with you!" and sat watching the rat. 

I put her outside and brought in my BC who immediately dispatched the fat. Hannah couldn't believe that I was praising Pye for killing! 

_I have written about this incident before._

Nicky was away and Murphy came to me for two weeks. I was determined that I would get him loaded. 

I set the trailer up in the middle of the yard, led Murphy wearing just a headcollar with lunge line to the ramp and asked him to walk in. I had removed the partition and the front ramp was undone. 

Murphy stopped amd planted. I encouraged him to move forward knowing what he would do. Sure enough after just a couple of minutes he set his head and neck, fly leapt to the side and took off. I held onto the end of the lunge. He stopped at the end of the yard. I patted him, gave him a mint and returned to the ramp. 

This performance went on for quite a while and every time I rewarded him and returned to the ramp. 

I don't know if he was fed up with the mints - he had been stuffed with several packets, but he just walked straight in. I made him pause for a second and then out the front and straight out to the field. 

Next day it took way less time and in the end he was loading without any problem. I took great delight in returning him to Nicky in the trailer. 

It was very rare that he was hard to load after this.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Now that Murphy was loading Nicola decided she wanted to show him in Cob Classes. He qualified for the Horse of the Year Show first show. 

Nicola had a friend well versed in the showing world ride him at shows and he stood third at the first HOYS he attended. The thing that let him down was his height, he was only 14.3 and most were way bigger than him even though 15.1 was maximum height. 

The following year Nicky's friend was ill so another mutual friend Deidre, also very experienced showing, took the ride. He again was placed this time fifth. 

We stayed the night, Nicky and D slept in the trailer whilst I stayed with friends nearby as I had the previous year. On the Sunday whilst the two packed the trailer and got Murphy ready to travel home, I went back to collect some tack we had bought from stalls at the event. 

I was walking back - quite a long way, when I heard the sirens of an ambulance and saw it turn into the car park. A sixth sense told me it was Murphy involved. 

Sure enough when I got there Nicky was crying, a man was being treated by the medics for a suspected broken leg and another for a split ear. 

Murphy was back in his stable and people all around were calling him dangerous and in need of a bullet. 

Nicky had gone to load him - Murphy decided he had an audience and refused. Nick tried a couple more times when several people offered to help. Nicky said no but they elbowed their way in taking Murphy's rope, two behind with a line and a whip. 

I could well imagine Murphy thinking "Bring it on boys!" 

They put the whip across his back legs where by he lashed out catching one man's leg and the one holding him yanked and waved his arms in front of him whereby Murphy reared up and caught this man on the ear. 

When the ambulqnce took the pair off we three had a coffee and let things calm down for an hour. I got Murphy out to load him. So many people were hanging around just to see this dangerous animal. Sure enough Murph dos his gazump past the trailer. I held the end of the lunge. When he stopped I patted hi, gave him a mint and took him back. He did this twice, third time he looked at me as if tomsay. "spoil sport!" and walked in. 

Someone called out that what I had done was not the way to load a horse, several others agreed. I just said the them. "Might not be with most, but this dangerous horse is in the trailer and no one has a scratch on them." 

We drove off.


----------



## knightrider

@Foxhunter, I absolutely love this story! Why do you suppose giving him a mint made him load? Do you think it made him think that having to load was kind of interesting and fun since he was getting mints? What gave you the idea to try it? Such an interesting horse! Waaaay smarter than many horses. I love the answer you gave to those people watching about now the dangerous horse is in the trailer. I'll bet it was great fun riding with you.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Having mentioned Hannah, she was a dog my cousin Gill bought as a pup. Gill was in and out of our house a lot and Hannah came too. 
The olde girls, Lassie and Quin would do what older dogs do to pups - put them in their place but Mum and Gill didn't like it so when Hannah came in the two girls were put in another room. 

General, although getting high in years, would play endlessly with her but when he had enough he would put her in her place and get told off for doing so.m

It drove me nuts. I warned them that Hannah needed to realise her pecking order. This was ignored and when out Hannah wouldmexpect every dog she met to play with her, when they snapped at her she wouldn't take it as an answer and before she was a year old she had her first serious fight. 

Gill went to training classes and was expelled and sent to a dog behaviourist with Hannah, spent a fortune. Hannah was very obedient unless there was another dog around and the behaviourist always worked where there were no other dogs. All this time I was itching to get my hands on her! 

Gill walked tomworkmeach morning with Hannah, this was a rural off road route and she never met anyone at 5 a.m. One morning Hannah running on a bit ahead met with some campers. They had a small dog tied to a picnic table leg. Hannah saw it and went in for the attack, the dog took off taking the table with it, early breakfasts scattered. 

Luckily Hannah was caught by Gill before she caught the other dog. That night Gill came in saying that she was going to see if the Police would take her on. I immediately jumped in and asked if I could have her for a month. 

Gill renewed her tears saying, "I wanted you to take her on but you are so busy."' So, Hannah came to me for a month. 

I loved her, she was so downright defiant! She would chase cattle, cats, sheep and horses. First thing I did with her was to tie her on the inside of a gate with about twenty heifers in the field. 

The saying 'curious as a cat' should be 'curious as a cow' because anything new in their field they will investigate so it wasn't long before the heifers were crowding Hannah. It frightened her a lot. Hard to watch but she never chased cattle again. 

I had General, Hannah and another her dog T out one evening, itmwasmdark and I had kept Hannah on leash down to the beach. On the beach I let her off to run with General having T on leash. 

General was in the sea snapping at the waves, with no preamble Hannah just ran up to him grabbed him across the neck and held him under water. I waded in and grabbed them both, poor Gen was coughing and spluttering. I had my hunting whip with me and lifted Hannah off the ground with her front feet and hit her along her ribs with the handle. She was looking around to see where the other two were ready to go for them when I let her go. 

My reaction was "I'm going to whack you until you holler and then you will get three more." 
I must have hit her six or seven times before she helped. I gave her another and next thing I had my arm grabbed. A man had seen me whacking her and decided to stop it. I was pulled off balance and let Hannah go and was facing the man tomexplain. He went as white as a sheet and when I looked round ther were General and Hannah stood shoulder to shoulder, eyes slitted and both showing two pairs of teeth.

Hannah was always testing, youncould call her to return and she would stop and sit a few feet away, Gill would accept this, I wouldn't, she had to come sit on my toes to make it good enough! 

Hannah was with me when Gill was busy or away. Gill had few problems with her fighting after she had been with me and Gill toughened up. 

I was working away and hadn't seen Gill for a couple of years. She called me (knowing I was home) tomask if I would go up to her house to let Hannah out as she was delayed at work. 
Hannah was barking when she heard a strange car pull up. She was really fierce when I opened the porch door, but got my scent before I opened the main door and barks turned to screams she was so pleased to see me. She made such a racket that the neighbour's came out thinking she was hurt.

Another time I was taking the dogs on the Downs, I was out of sight of the road when I heard Gill saying, "Hannah, NO! What's the matter with you?" 
Gill was walking upmthe road the opposite side to where I had walked. Hannah had got my scent and was pulling Gill across the road. When I called out Gill let her off the lead and Hannah joined me on the walk.

I only saw her once after that when she had degenerative myololopathy and was dragging her back end. I begged Gill to let her go. She wasn't in any pain but she had lost all her ability to understand why she couldn't use her legs. It was for the best and she went over the bridge soon after.


----------



## Foxhunter

Knightrider, it wasn't the mint that made him load it was having no one to fight against. 

Murphy was a rare breed in that if you tried to force him he would fight back hard. He hurt a lot of people who tried to load him and he meant it yet he really was a softy at heart. 

It was reverse psychology I guess.


----------



## knightrider

Do you think he would have loaded if you had just kept circling him without the mint? How did you know that would work? I am so impressed with your intuitive knowledge. You are a real gift to the horse world, and sharing these stories is a gift to us on the Horse Forum.


----------



## Foxhunter

I knew Murphy well, and he was a horse that I am sure had been abused in his past history. He had learned to fight humans and if they got rough so would he. 

It was an experiment for me. Doing it all wrong, rewarding the bad behaviour, petting him and giving the mint when he charged away was. To most, encouraging him to continue charging off. It was, in my thinking, a matter of getting him fed up with what he was doing. 

It worked in the instance! 

Most horses that acted like he did I would have put a line around them and possibly a lunge whip across the back legs but that hadn't worked with Murphy, just the reverse, it made him more determined to not get on board. 

As for lunging himmat the bottom of the ramp, I don't know, I doubt it would have worked because he was just as likely to set his neck and charge off. I tell you Murphy knew all of the tricks and then some!


----------



## Foxhunter

* We had been to a local show. It was always hectic as many of the children were sharing ponies and one would be in the arena and another want the pony in another. 

Two of 'my' girls were sat on their ponies waiting for me to see them warm up over the practise fences. I was putting studs in a jumping horse tied to the horsebox. 

All of a sudden I heard a voice calling the two girls dirty little cheats. I thought the words were meant for someone else but then realised it wasn't. 

The grandmother of two other competitors read the riot act to the pair - both sat there looking amazed and wondering what they had done to deserve it. I didn't say anything and couldn't stand up as I had the tap in the stud hole. By the time I had the stud in Grandma was walking off. 

I was angry at her attitude and didn't have a clue what she was on about. She was about 50 yards away and I called out, "Hey, Granny Gloin, what the heck are you doing acussing my kids of cheating?" 

The reply was, "You know only to well!" 

I decided to deal with her later. The girls warmed up and went to put their numbers down for the show jumping class to be told by the ring steward they weren't entered. 

I went to the secretary to find out what was going on. They had made a mistake and put both girls in the novice jumping class (neither were eligible) this was in the programme and it was what Granny had been talking about. 

I still tackled her about it and told her that if she had any bones to pick to come to me and not the children. 

At the expend of the show we were loading up some of the horses when a mother and her two daughters were trying to load their two ponies into their trailer. Neither were having it so I offered to help. This was turned down. 

I took my load home and returned about an hour later to pick up the last load. The ponies were still not loading. Nearly everyone had gone home, there was another driver there and me. We both knew that the ponies were having fun and that the attempts were futile. We both offered to help amd this time it was accepted. 

Dave was one side of one pony and I the other, we linked hands behind and with some cussing and shoving, the pony walked on, ditto with the second one. Took all of 5 minutes and we were all on our way. 

After that Iris, the mother of the two ponies concerned would always find me at a show and ask if I would help load. It never took much. At one show she called out, "Can you give me a hand in a minute please?" 
I replied, "Five minutes."

The ponies immediately stopped eating and walked straight into the trailer dragging the girls behind them.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I have just come in from the garden, this weekend is a Bank Holiday so Monday is a day off. This holiday every year for many years brings an invasion of motor scooter riders, scooters not bikes. 
They are all over the place and roaring about the place. Fine, it is their hobby so let them be. Many are mynage, many are very young. 

Some thirty plus years ago when the invasion first started, there were some real trouble makers, letting the others down. 

My Father up early as usual took the dogs out for a walk. As he went along the beach he saw that the ricks of deckchairs had been opened and the chairs all over the place. He went to the owner, an old friend, and told him before helping to gather the chairs up. Many were missing. Dad walked back a different way, past the boating lake, he saw a gang of lads in a shelter, the remains of a bonfire outside the shelter and the tarp that had been covering the deck chairs draped over some of them. 

Daddy was t one who messed around, he dealt with things as he saw fit. He asked the lads what they though they were doing. They said they thought they could sleep on the beach but got cold so had taken the chairs to start a fire. 

Dad was furious, having worked as a longshoreman for years he knew how hard it was to make a living. The chairs would need replacing. One of the boys was silly enough to give dad some lip and that was it. He grabbed this ring leader and before he knew what had happened dad had thrown him in the boating lake. 

A couple of others came together to attack dad but they hadn't a clue and they too ended in the water (only a couple of feet deep) one by one dad threw them in, some tried to run but dad told them to come back or he'd set the dogs on them so they returned and jumped into the water. 

The dogs running along the edge barking at them. Dad left the dogs guarding the water and ran to fetch the owner. Two other workers also came and as dad allowed them out the water he made them hand over money to pay for the damage. He left them enough to feed themselves and that was it. 

None went to the police.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I found that many of the children would ask me all sorts of questions not necessarily horse related. 

One day Wendy and Hair kept following me around, nudging and looking at each other. I knew they wanted to ask me something probably of they could go out for a rode on their own. Both were 'grounded' having ridden to the beach without saying where they were going. Horses and tourists do not go well together and there is a bye law stopping horses on the sands from 7 a.m to 7 p.m. Their punishment was that they could only ride out with an accompanied ride. 

Eventually after having fallen over the pair for the umpteenth time I turned and said, "For goodness sake what do you want to asked me?" 

They had their heads down taking sideways glances at each other, hoping from one foot to the other. Eventually one of them said, "Is it true that any animal has to be having a period before getting pregnan?" 

My brain went into overdrive, all sorts of scenarios racing around. Even back then (mid 70s) there were young girls getting pregnant. I wasn't worried about these two as they had little interest in boys but thought that they might have a friend who had said something and they wanted to find out. 

I proceeded to explain the finer details of human reproduction to them, telling them about using protection and saying that to have sex under the age of 16 was illegal. Fianally asking them if that was what they wanted to know. 

They looked at each other and finally one said, "Well, how do we tell when a rabbit is in her period?" 

They had tried to mate their two rabbits to no avail! I will say that I breathed an inner sigh of relief and explained that you take the doe to the buck not the other way around. 

It worked for the rabbits.


----------



## Foxhunter

* It was my day off and I was taking a lie in when Mum came to say that I was needed back at the stables as there had been an accident. 

The farrier had been shoeing a young livery belonging to a teen girl. The horse had been tied up to a piece of bailer twine (the old sisal type) he was wearing an old leather head collar and the rope was frayed. Bob the farrier had removed the front shoe and as he asked the horse to pick up hos foot again so he pulled back and went down. Bob was quick to cut him loose as nothing had broken. 

When I got there e horse was still down and unconscious. I was there well before the vet. 

I had experience with equine vets of high caliber and had been told more than once that if a horse was unconscious for thirty minutes then it would be brain damaged. Barney had been out for over an hour by the time the vet arrived. One of the first questions he asked was if the horse was insured. I said that he was. 

I also said about the thirty minute rule but he was insistent that we gave Barney a chance. I disagreed as there was obvious severe damage done with his thrashing when he initially went down. The bone around his right eye was pulp. The owner's mother came down and didn't really know what to say. There was me saying shoot him amd the vet saying he would be OK. 

In the end Barney was given a tranquiiser and we were told to wait until he got to his feet. 

As he was in the pony shed there was a lot of room. We lined the walls with bales of straw and gave him a good padding of strwaw. It was not until 7 p.m. Before he showed signs of regaining consciousnes, getting him to his feet was horrible, he struggled and fell time and time again. Eventually he made it to his feet and stood like a drunk and afraid to move. He wouldn't drink so I sponged his mouth. He stood like that all night and most of the next day. 

He couldn't hold his head straight and any attempt to move was totally uncoordinated. Again I said he would never be tproght but the vet insisted he would. 

About two weeks later we moved him out of the shed back to a stable. His walking was terrible and I lined him up to walk through the door when at the last moment he moved and walked into the wall. I had slept every night with him. 

I had noticed that when he went to drink he always missed e bucket, which was tied high as he couldn't balance with his head down. 

Months went by and finally he was turned out. He was blind in his right eye and still like a drunk. Out in the field his balance was better is he was cantering, not great but better. 

Nicky, his owner was there every day after school to see to him. She knew my opinion on the outcome but didn't care if she never rode him again. 

More than once we saw Barney fall just when he was trying to eat. There was certainly serious brain trauma. One day the vet called I . He saw Barney stood in the field swishing flies with another horse. He said there was no reason he couldn't be ridden. 

I lost it! I was so angry at his indifference to the owner's safety and told him that the only way I would get on him would be to prove he wasn't safe to ride. We had a heated argument with no mixed words. The vet told me that I had wanted to put the horse down from the outset, which I had to agree. He pointed out that he had higher qualifications than me, I retaliated with he might have the qualifications I had the experience. 

I asked him if he would put his daughter on a horse that should it spook or trip would fall over. I was told I was talking rubbish. At this point someone was looking down from above. The horses moved through a 16' gate to the adjoining field. Barney didn't realise they had moved and when he did he started to canter to catch them up. This looked good as he was balanced but instead of goi g through the gate he smashed into the water tank by the gate and this was on the side he could see from. 

Nicky' smother arrived and with that the vet told her he best thing was euthanasia. I do not know how much the bills came to but it was way more than had been paid for the horse and he wasn't exactly cheap. 

I had Barney shot the next day. 

Nicky was so upset and blamed me for his demise. I found her another horse but our relationship was never quite the same. It wasn't until a few years later and she had been working in a top dressage yard, that she apologised for the hurtful things she had said to me. She had spoken to several equine vets and that had all said the same about the thirty minute rule. 

The horse was a danger to himself and not fit to be a pasture puff. 

I still wonder if he hadn't been inspired whether the vet would have decided to try. I think not.

I will fight to save an animal regardless of time it takes or the exhaustion I get but there are times to draw a line.


----------



## Foxhunter

**Back to the early days.*

Beau was a livery at the riding school. One Saturday morning he was tied to the wood rails in the yard. We were mounting the 11.30 ride, all novice children, most on the lead rein. As nrmal the children were sat on the ponies, those on the lead had the leadreins over the ponies neck waiting to be 'collected' by whoever was to lead them. 

Beau suddenly pulled back hard. He up rooted two posts that had Neem concreted into the ground and took off through the mounted children. Most of the ponies were fast to move out the way leaving their little riders unmounted. 
Luckily Beau went into the arena and eventually was caught. 

After that he would always pull back, there was only one place he could be tied where there was a wall behind him. One day he was in the stall for the farrier. I was cleaning out the stalls where the ponies tied when Beau decided to pull back knocking old Mr Toms over. As he was nearly sitting in his effort to break free I used the prong to send him forward. I didn't mean to but one of the prongs punctured him but it did the job and sent him forward as fast as he had started to pull back. 

He was fine to tie after that!

The outcome was that he had an abscess form to the side of the tail. The vet was called and by coincidence the farrier was there when the vet came. 
The vet was insistent that it was a warble hatching out. 

I can still see Mr Toms standing there his flat cap in his hand leaning in a pony and scratching his head with his little finger, saying, "Aye, I have seen warbles in some strange places!" and winking at me. 

*Might have told this one earlier.*

A pony came in with bad laminitis. His feet were a mess and Mr Toms was doing what he could to make it easier for the pony. The owner, a well todo woman arrived and in a high faulting voice addressed the old man with, "My good man, this pony has lemon slices and needs special trimming."
"Lemon slices?" 
"Yes, that is what the vet said."
"Oh aha, well I know what will clear that."
"What will?"
"Gin!"
Off the woman went and returned with a large bottle of gin which she gave to Mr Toms before driving off again. 
Mr Toms couldn't believe it and was pleased to take the gin home. 
The pony came sound and remained at the riding school we never saw the woman or her daughter after the first month.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Charlie's Aunt was a pony I had bought to make up a load. She was around 13.2 a strong cobby type that was obviously of spotty origin. Her skin was speckled with white spots, she had little mane or tail amd the white ringed eyes of the Appaloosa. 

I was told that she had been mainly used for driving which didn't matter mush. 

When ridden she was a little jumpy at someone making a sudden movement but she soon didn't worry. There was a problem amd that was with her cantering, she would do one or two strides of canter, stop dead with her head in on her chest and bring her butt up high. Sent most people flying! I am sure that was from her being pulled up hard if she cantered in harness and cracked on the backside to send her forward. 

It took a while before she stopped doing this and gave many laughs as to how far she could throw people! 

At the end of one of the fields was the pub, we would go there for chips (fries) at lunch time. One summer day Sue, her cousin Helen and I were going to the pub to collect the orders. Three ponies were stood by the gate so we each jumped onto one, no halters. 
Sue was on Stanley a pony I had bought some years before, I was on Charlie amd Helen on Pepsi. Sue set off towards the pub at a canter, I followed as did Helen until Pepsi decided to join his friend's across the field. He turned and took off with Helen clinging on for dear life. 

It almost worked but Helen fell as Pepsi went through the open gate into the adjoining field where his friends were. Sue and I stopped and when Helen was slow to rise decidedmwe had better go see if she was OK 

Sue pulled on Stanley's mane and he turned and took off in Pesi's hoof prints. Charlie folllowed. We had cantered a short distance before she started to gallop, one stride of gallop and she stopped dead btought her butt up and away I went, sraight over her head landing in a large pile of poop. 

I was helpless with laughter which wasn't helped when I heard one of the watching children say, "Don't laugh, she might be hurt!" 

I had been observed from the pub by several of the locals. I was tagged about it for weeks. Then someone dared me to Hunt Charlie when the season started. Several glasses of whiskey were to be won. 

A Meet at the pub was held and I turned up riding Charle. I was well served with glasses of whiskey and by the time we set off I was slightly more than tipsy! 

Charlie had done a few cavelettis with the young riders but nothing more than two feet. The first hunt jump was around 3'6" landing in a farm track then a nother set of rails about the same height. She absolutely cleared them and away we went. 

After an hour I rode her home to take out Glory. I shut her in a stable and she cleared the door and disappeared to find the Hunt. 

Charlie was a useful type of pony and I wanted to breed a bigger version so had he covered with a local stallion. She bred a useful colt, not quite what I wanted but a good stamp. 

Soon after the foal wa sweated she was bought by Michael, a lad who had been riding with me for two or three years. 

Mike had hunted Charle and I wasn't checking she was clean between her back legs before being turned out, when I felt a lump in her udder. It was about the size of a tangerin. I had the vet look at it and he thought it was a residue of milk that a cyst had formed around. 

That summer Mike did Pony Club Camp and immediately afterwards went off to a Boy Scouts Camp in Switzerland so both the boys ponies were turned out down on some marshlands for the time they were away. 

When they came back and went out riding I asked how the ponies had gone. Mike said Charlie had been very puffed after they had cantered. When they said where I just laughed and said they would be puffed too of they had been eating for ten days and then made to run for a couple of miles! 

Mike decided he was going to get acharlie fit and gave her a couple of days walking work. The ponies were still down on the marsh and when they brought them in Charlie's was noticeably distressed. Her breathing wasnvery laboured and she didn't wasn't to eat her hard food. 

The vet came out and took some bloods, we were looking at poisoning but all the others on the marsh were fine and I hadn't seen anything toxic down there. 

Charlie was kept stabled, she wasn't eating or drinking and obviously very uncomfortable. I could see that somewhen on the Saturday night she had given up, she didn't want to fight anymore. The vet came out and wanted to giver her fluids but couldn't find the jugular vein and when he did the blood was more a rust colour than red. 

That was it. I called the boy's father and said I thought it best she was euthanised. As we were stood there I made he remark that she had never seen the vet other than for routine injections and had never been lame or sick. As I said it I recalled the lump and felt her udder, is was hard to touch on one side. 

Charlie was euthanised that afternoon. I went to the Hunt the next day to see if I could see anything. She was riddled with cancer, a lump in one lung the size of a soccer ball. Her liver and kidneys were shot. 

She was one heck of a gutsy little mare. She had done Camp a couple of weeks before and not shown any illness though things had to be pretty wrong inside her. 

We were all very sad at her death.


----------



## Foxhunter

I have a question to ask those who bother to read my journal, _*If I were to write a book what suggestions do you have for a title?*_

Thanks


----------



## Avna

The Island of Horses


----------



## Knave

I would be one of the first to buy it if you do! I will think about it today.


----------



## Dragoon

Memories of a Lifetime with Horses

Or

Foxhunter's Recollections


----------



## Knave

I couldn’t think of anything great. The best I could come up with was:

Off of the truck
(Or off of the trailer)


----------



## knightrider

Horsegirl in (Kent?) What was the name of the island? Or county?

Trainin' and Tradin'

I also like Island of Horses

. . . and PLEASE, write that book? Everyone would love it.


----------



## Foxhunter

What I would like is something like James Herriot did, basically factual but with a bit of poetic lisence thrown in. 

All I have written here did happen, it would need padding out which wouldn't be to difficult. More dialogue. 

I will not call it anything to do with Island as a lot of it was not here. I have been working away for longer than here. That is yet to come!

Keep,thinking good folk.


----------



## Knave

Kids, Horses, and Huntsmen


----------



## Avna

You could use this quotation from Shakespeare: _

"Well could he ride, and often men would say, "That horse his mettle from his rider takes: Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes!" And controversy hence a question takes, Whether the horse by him became his deed, Or he his manage by the well-doing steed."_

You could call it 

*The Well-doing Steed*
*My Life With Horses*

Yes, I was an English Lit major.


----------



## Knave

That is really a pretty quote @Avna; I had never heard it.


----------



## Avna

In modern translation ... "does a great horse make any rider look good, or is the other way around?"


----------



## Foxhunter

Avna, that quote would be great on the front of a book about horses - I would certainly use it and feel it would make me look more intelligent than I am!


----------



## Avna

Foxhunter said:


> Avna, that quote would be great on the front of a book about horses - I would certainly use it and feel it would make me look more intelligent than I am!


That's what Shakespeare is for!


----------



## Foxhunter

* Please bear with me, I am going to go back through this lot to check on what I have and have not written about. I should of thought and done so from the start but, me and lists are not so good as I always loose the list. 

*Early Days*

When I was thirteen, I was very ill missing a lot of school. My GP, a wonderful man although probably not the best Dr., would always tell Mum to get me outside to gain my strength so, couldn't get more 'outside' than at the stables. 

Margaret asked if I would go to he other side of the Island to exercise a horse for David Biles, as he was ill. 

I caught the bus over, travel sick several times, and finally arrived at his farm.

The horse was a retired Steeplechaser called Monorail. A big flea bitten grey. I tacked him up not sure of where to ride him. David told me to go this way and that and it would take a good hour. 
After turning left at the top of the drive and right at the X roads I hadn't a clue what came after. Monorail seemed to know amd we turned this way and that. I had been warned that he didn't like drain covers or flappy things. He never once spooled or skirted around a drain and finally we had to go through a building site where there were several flappy tarps covering materials. He never turned a hair. 

He took me to a gate into a field, stood still as I fiddled with the catch and again when I closed the gate. I could see an open gate onto the main road. There was quite a lot of traffic going in both directions as people drove home in the now dusk. 

Before I could do anything Monorail took off with me. He was headed straight for the gate and I wasn't at all sure what to do. Fortunately he turned and galloped here times around the field before pulling up at the first gate then walking, asking for a long rein to the open gate. He stood there waiting, lookingboth ways until it was clear to cross over where he trotted the hundred yards to the drive, whereby he came back to a walk.

At no point had David said anything about a canter around a filed! When I told him he laughed and told me that if he had been busy he would take the horse there and canter him around a few times for exercise! 

That horse would buck and mess around with most riders but he really looked after me. I don't know why unless he sensed that I was very weak and feeble. I only weighed about ninety pounds at the time.


----------



## Foxhunter

* The summer of 1976 was a scorcher and a drought was hitting the UK. 

I hated it. I don't do heat well and there was a lot of humidity which made matters worse for me. 

An older woman had moved a couple of miles away from the stables. She had a small holding and had a few beef cattle, pigs, chickens and horses. She owned a stallion that was Arab x Lipizzaner, Coronsol. He was a nice compact horse and a very biddable nature. 

Mrs B. had broken her foot, I had, that spring, taken over doing Coronsols handling when he covered a mare. We had a few discussions over manners with this but as I said, he was biddable and realised he had to be polite to the mares. 

This place was on the side of a hill and spring fed for water which dried up so I took to living there so as to collect water from the neighbouring farm, water everything and do as much as I could before going to work. 

After a few weeks of this she sold the cattle as I just couldn't get enough water to them, I was filling up troughs and baths but they would run out by lunchtime and break out the fields. 

The place was very old and the backdoor had a rattle old door knob. This came into a boot room, to one side was the kitchen and the other a little snug room where Mrs B. mostly lived. 

It was a long narrow room, there was an armless sofa down one side, an armchair on the other, a wood burning stove at the far end and a TV in the corner. 

When one sow had farrowed there was a real runt in the litter so Mars B. took it indoors where it lived in a past carrier for three or four weeks. After that he was allowed free range and was soon house trained. He was named Jimboy. Unfortunately when someone came and castrated the boars in the litter he was to small and weak to be done, by the time the next litter was ready Jimboy was to big so there was this full grown boar wandering about the place. 

He was kept outside but would regularly escape. I would be lying on the sofa dozing and hear the garden gate crash open, he would charge the backdoor which burst open and grab the latch into the snug and jump up on the sofa. Having a Landrace boat land on top of you is not funny and it was a race for the two dogs and me to be standing before he took pride of place! 

A few months after things straightened out and Mrs B. was able to be active I went home. When I did call in I was presented with a large heavy bag. When I looked inside it was a haunch of pork. Jimboy had overstepped the mark! 

He made good eating.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I was out exercising, riding and leading one when a car came racing along the road at a high speed. As it drew nearer so the brakes went on and the diver jumped out. It was Graham, one of the livery owners. 

"Quick, quick, take my car and get back, it's Ferrin, he's dying!" 

"What do you mean?" I asked. I had worked him in the arena before exercising the two. 

"When we got there he was lying down and groaning and wouldn't get up." 

"OK, I'll trot on, he's probably fine he always moans when he lies down." 

I trotted the last half mile back to find Tilda, Grham's wife and two others standing in the yard holding a very miserable, grumpy looking Ferrin.

They thought he had colic and had tried to get him up, when he refused to they tipped a bucket of cold water over his head - no wonder he was miserable!


----------



## Foxhunter

* Mrs B called me to say her old mare had fallen and was upside down in a ditch, could she borrow the slings I had. 

I grabbed the slings threw them into my Land Rover and jumped in to deliver them and help. 

I threw the LR into reverse and ran smack into the some of Graham's brand new Audi leaving two big indentations from the bumper. I didn't stop to do more than take a look, cuss and went to help with the mare. Graham had parked right across the only turning point. 

I returned after a successful mission. Graham and the others were in the pub having lunch. I stopped amd walked in apologising as I joined them. Graham thought I was kidding, and didn't believe me. Tilda went to have a look and said it was true. How he could miss it I don't know as it was on the driver's side. 

Damages amounted to around £400 and we decided to pay half each. I should have looked amd he shouldn't have parked there. 

He came down the day the car went in for repairs. 

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?" He asked.

"Give me the bad news first." 

"The car is going to cost £1,100!" 

"What? It'll have to go through the insurance in that case." 

"Well, do you want th stood news?" 

"Is there any?" 

"Yes, neither of us is going to have to pay!" 

Graham was waiting in a queue at traffic lights on his way to the garage when a woman got into her husband's automatic cat and reversed out their drive, straight across the road into the side of Graham's car doing some extensive damage. 

Her insurance paid the whole bill!


----------



## Foxhunter

* Things were changing, Sue had left school and was full time at the stables. 

It wasmSue's day off and the farrier had been. There were two children staying for the day. I asked them to turn the two last ponies out in the field across the road whilst I went with the farrier to another field to trim a foal. 

I had hold of th emare and foal when a car came at high speed around the corner. It was Peggy, white as a sheet with Sue in the passenger seat holding towels over her face. 

The children couldn't get the padlock on the field gate undone so had gone tomask Sue. She had jumped on her brother's chopper bike and cycled up the hill. Coming down she realised that Graham had removed the brakes to fit new ones. She had put her feet down to stop as she went into the garage but wearing on slippers it did no good. She had hit the freezer at the back amd gone straight through the back window lacerating her face badly. 

I took one look at the hysterical Sue, told Peggy to get out the car and to go call the ER to say we were coming. sue was hysterical and screaming and crying. I told her to get herself together and stop the nonsense as what was done was done. I drove to the hospital as fast as I could and they were waiting for her amd took her straight in. 

A doctor started to look at the injuries and went to remove a large shard of glass from her forehead when I saw Sue bringing her hands up to stop him. Without thinking I harshly told her to stop and behave herself. Pointing out that they were there to help and if she was going to fight them I would take her straight home! She calmed down again. 

I told admittance her date of birth etc. and the woman thought I was her sister. I asked if I should stay with her but was told to go to the waiting room. I had just started to read an article in a magazine when I heard Sue kick off again. In seconds a nurse was there asking for me to go to my 'sister.' Sue immediately calmed down again and whilst they were dressing the many cuts after stitching, I went out to finish the article. 

When Sue came out she was walking wounded. x-ray showed no skull fracture and she hadn't been knocked out so they were releasing her. 

I had to laugh on seeing a cut she had at the end of her nose. "Thank goodness you didn't cut the end of your nose off, I can imagine looking for that in the rubble!" 

Naturally Sie was very upset. Her boyfriend was coming later and she didn't want to see him. I told her that it was better he saw her that evening rather than the next day as she would be badly bruised and look worse tomorrow. 

She healed well and hardly had a scar to show for it.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Going back *

I had put the dogs out for their last pee. General came back very quickly and wanted me to follow him. 

I did so amd saw a flash of white by the hedge. I called and very slowly a white hairy dog appeared. 
Getting him indoors I could see he was filthy. He was muddy, had bracken and brambles stuck in his hair and his feet were very very sore. 

I fed him which was greedily accepted and shut him in a stable for the night. He was a young dog, I though not much over a year old. He had obviously been well cared for as under all the muck his coat was clean and white. 

First thing I called the RSPCA to say I had found this dog. I told them the story and I was certain he had been lost. I was also sure he was a pedigree but neither for love nor money could I recall what breed he was. I told the RSPCA that he was long coated, white, black eyes a little bit like a Husky but wasn't one. 

They wanted me to bring him in but I refused as he was better off with me than shut in a kennel and if no one claimed him I would keep him and I didn't see the point on having to pay to get him back. 

A couple of weeks went past and Bruno, as I called him was well settled. His feet were healing his coat was clean and he fell into the routine. Late one night I was looking through he local paper and saw on the Lost Section, a white Samoyed from across the Isleand. It was around 11 p.m. but I called the owners to say I had got him. They wanted to come there and then but I told them to come in the morning, which they did.

Bruno, whose name was Bruin, both of us shortening it to Bru, was so pleased to see his owners. General immediately put Bru to the ground being Alpha as if to say, "You have your rightful owners, now ****** off!" 

The man had been working on a golf course, a neighbour was walking with his dog and Bru went with them but never returned. He had got lost and obviously kept wandering until General found him. He had been missing for four days before that happened. 

So much for the RSPCA as the dog had been reported missing to them but they hadn't matched up my report of a find.

_I only thought of this because out walking today I met with a couple that had two Samoyeds and they were surprised I knew the breed!_


----------



## Foxhunter

* _There are bound to be things I recall but time to move on!_

I decided to leave and set up on my own. I was working all hours and not receiving much in th way of money. An old school friend had bought a place with her husband just down the road, they had stables and offered it to me so I went for it. 

I had ten stables, three converted cow sheds, the others a wooden block. Denise and Tony had two ponies for their daughters and a TB stallion also a house cow, Peggy, soon to be joined by Pipkin. 

I soon had he stables filled, the ponies lived out along with an elderly mare that Denise had owned, sold and had been given back in terrible condition. She had been used as a brood mare and after failing to get in foal several years, had been turned out with a young Arab colt to keep him company. She had then been given away and produced a foal in December. The foal had dragged her right down and she was brought to Denise on weaning. 

I started out with four liveries when a farmer/cattle dealer, David, asked me if I would have his hunter for him. 

Enter into my life, Tom. 

I had first seen Tom out Hunting a few seasons before. David turned up riding him, a big bay horse hogged maned and he really filled my eye. I recall saying to David, "Wow, that's one heck of a horse you have there!"

Later I was asked to clip him and I do so that season. The following year my sister was working for David and she took over the job for the following season. After that he had a woman working for him and she did the horses. 

Over two seasons I could see that neither of David's hunters, Tom and Horace, a big grey heavyweight hunter, looked as well as they should. Horace was fat, Tom, also looked flabby and as David was a big heavy man his horses needed to be really fit. I heard on the grapevine that he wasn't very happy with how they were which is why he sent Tom to me. 


David brought Tom over in a brand new cattle wagon, the sides were wood. Tom managed to kick a hole in the side and cracked a partition. He was not in David's good books! 

As I led him to a stable I noticed that Tom had a tendon swelling and David's words were, "This will probably be his last season." 
Something about the swelling told me that it wasn't the tendon. He was perfectly sound and pummelling, prodding and pinching it didn't make him flinch. It was no better after exercise nor any worse. 

The farrier came and I asked him to dig around in his hoof, I don't know why or how but I was determined it was in his foot. Sure enough after digging in deep pus oozed out. Poulicing for a few days and it was clear. His leg went down and never came up again. 

The other problems I was told, were that he was impossible to clip. To hog him I was told to put the twitch on, run the clippers up both sides before he exploded. The other was that he colicked a lot especially after hunting. 

I kept him well rugged but he soon grew a thick winter coat and was sweating just doing easy exercise. I was going to earn my money with Tom.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I think it was mid September when I started out on my own. 

Tom was fine to rode out for the first couple of weeks amd then he started showing his true colours and napped at every opportunity. I had been mounting him in the top yard but he started rearing and it was on a slope so I would lead him down to the bottom yard and mount there. 

Now, this was a big horse, he was 16.3 out of an Irish Draught mare by a Cleveland Bay. He took his colouring from his sire. He had 10 1/2 inches of bone yet was as light on his feet as a fairy. He had the best front I have ever ridden from the pommel of the saddle to the start of his neck was around 12 inches. His neck was long but not out of proportion. 

The napping started out and about, it was nothing very much and he never won. Mostly he would spin and gallop back the way he had come. Then one morning he started as soon as I mounted him. He reared right up and turned (always to the right) to try and get back up to the stables. I would haul on my left rein only to find that he'd opened his mouth wide and the bit had slip up the slipped up the side of his face and the cheek piece was in his mouth! 

Dismount and go fetch a drop noseband and put that on. Tighten his caveson noseband too. 

Remount. Ask him to go forward.

He rears but is facing the same way as we started. 

He stands still, I could hear his brain whirring, then he starts fiddling with the bit, or so I thought, but instead he puts a huge effort into crossing his jaw and opening his mouth at the same time. 

Then he rears.

I found the bit on the side of his face again. He had broken both noseband! When I took them to the saddler for repair he thought the dropped noseband had been caught on something as all the holes were run into one and the caveson had run through three holes. 

Funny thing was that when I turned him back he went straight out onto the road. It was as if he was just proving a point. 

Tom tested me many times and the more he did the more I realised that he was safe. He would stop on the road and start to nap. If a car came along he wouldmstop his nonsense move to the side and when the car had passed, start again. 

One day at the road junction he wanted to go left and I wanted to go right. He started and really kicked off. Opposite was a field being ploughed. I asked the farmer if I could go in there and when he agreed I rode Tom up the bank and into the stubble. I took him round and round that field until he was really puffed - and dripping with sweat - as I rode him back down the bank somthe farmer remarked that he had had a good work out and wouldn't need much more tomwhich I replied, "Now the ****** can go where I wanted to go!" I rode him off the way I had wanted to go.

The more he napped the more I worked him. The more I worked him the fitter he got! 

The problem was he was loosing to much weight from sweating with a heavy coat so I decided to clip him. I had learned in the few weeks I had him that he wasn't a horse to tell but a horse to ask. I wanted to do a hunter clip but would be content to just get hair off his belly and lower neck. 

A girl, Lisa, had come with me from the riding school. She was about twelve, quite tall but there was more meat on a butcher's pencil than on her! I had her hold Tom with a pocket ful of,carrots and apples. I started to clip him and he was fine. I did a trace clip and he looked awaful so I took all the hair off his body. It took longer than usual because he would move away every now and then and I had to wait for him to come back rather than make him. Lisa was the on who told him he was being silly amd slap him on the neck. He would look at her and return. 

In the end he had a full body clip but much was on his neck! I could clip from his withers with his head up high, in a straight line to the top of his jaw, that was it. Had I pushed it then it would have been battle stations. 

I left it a few days and then tried again. I managed to do all bar the front of his face which didn't really matter. 

I didn't use a twitch nor any tranquillisers worth trying. David had tried ACP (Ace) but that had made him worse. That clip,was done mid October and I never had any problem with clipping after that though when it came to hogging him I would stand on a stool to reach and he would lower his head, I would get on the ground and his head would go up. He would give me step aerobics unti I gave his halter a shake amd told him off then he would stand with his head down. I found if I let him 'have his way' on showing me he could be difficult then he was happy to let me do whatever. 

I was riding him out into the village. We arrived at the X roads and he started to nap. I could have gone left or right but not straight on. I gave up trying to force him and just sat in him. Traffic had to weave its way around us but none seemed to mind! 

Villagers walked by, "Isn't he lovely! Can he have a toffee?" 
""No he isn't and no he can't!" I would reply. 

I smoked many cigarettes, the shop keeper brought me out a cup of tea and we were there for three hours before he just gave up amd wanted to go ahead. I made him wait for a few minutes and when I asked him to go he did think about starting again then thought better of it. 

I took him on the ride I had intended without further issues. Really that was the last bad napping session I had with him., yes, he did try it on many times but nothing like the first few weeks. 

I later learned that the woman who had been looking after him for two seasons would rode him to the top of the drive. Tom would nap amd she would dismount from him lead him around the block, only about half a mile, and remount him at the top of the drive amd take him home. 
This was for a horse that was hunting at least once a week carrying well over 340 lbs. no wonder he colicked.


----------



## Foxhunter

Things were getting better with Tom. I still couldn't double up with him as he would still try napping every now and then. 

What I did learn was that for a big horse, he was exceedingly agile. He loved to jump and any field I put him is you couldmbet he would be somewhere else when it came time to catch him. He was great at gates, both opening and jumping them. One circular rode I regularly did was great for getting them fit, straight out the gate and up on the Downs but it had so many gates. I cut it down to having to open only two, both those were narrow and in tricky positions. One gate was a devil to open and unjumpable becaus eof a cattle grid by it. As the gate was broken I took one of the slats from it and tied it to the top of the dividing barb wire fence which was situated on top of a bank. Made a pretty high jump but save a lot of time. 

I would than jump out the field over a Hunt jump and from that field hop over a style onto the narrow track which involved turning as he landed. He would do this with ease bucking at the same time. 

David sent me another horse, Gemini, a TB he had bought for Point to Pointing. Gem was a kind enough horse but had something wrong with his blood which I couldn't get right. I hated hunting him as he was a horse that went with his head down to his knees - not great when you are charging down a steep hill, though it is said a horse that goes like that rarely falls.

David had had a couple of short days out Hunting but was Field Master for this particular Meet, one for the Pony Club. We ended up on the ridge of the hill and David was cantering towards the gate. Tom pricked his ears and Davis had trouble stopping him. I opened the gate and as we went across to the next gate so Tom made for the strip of wood over the wire. We jumped the Hunt jump amd swung away from the stile back down the hill to where there was a big deep ditch under some trees. You could go through a place lower down but it was belly deep in mud from the cattle treading through. 

Tom made for where I normally jumped it, David was trying to go to a different place to jump but I told him to let Tom take him. Tom jumped big and because of the trees you had to keep bent over. David was about to sit up when Tom bucked, catching him just right. Luckily because he had so much front David managed to stay on as someone of his weight falling isn't funny.

Later when we checked in some woods, we were all standing around waiting for Hounds to find their fox. David poked Tom's neck with his hunting whip amd remarked, "There aren't many gates around her been opened lately!" 

I grabbed Tom's ear and told him to not let any more secrets out.


----------



## Foxhunter

Tom was a brave horse, he napped because he had got away with it not because something spooked him. He learned that his antics didn't frighten me or that he would get his way but he would still throw in the odd try to keep me on my toes. 

One day, very wet and windy, the farmer who owned the land on the hill asked if I could go check his sheep as he was sick. I agreed to do so and set sail on Tom up to the ridge. It had stopped raining but was still very windy. The sheep were all on the Lee side of the hill amd fine. I cantered along the top into the wind. Off the track there were some banked which had, a long time ago, had a fence on the top. The fence had gone and the banks were great to jump. 

There were three along the top and we had jumped the one, Tom would either clear it or land on the top amd then push off. He had, at the second put in an enormous leap only to land spin 180 and jump it back from a standsti. How I stayed on I will never know. The reason for his change of direction were three Old English Sheepdogs sniffing the other side. 


A friend of mine was married and had a girl nearly three. She wanted to ride but couldn't afford it, I arranged that she could exercise one of mine and I would look after the child. We had done this once or twice a week for several months and it worked well. 

I was doing the water buckets, the tap,was around the corner from the stable doors. Being lazy I just flipped Tom's kick bolt over. As I was filling the bucket I heard a click and saw Becky had undone the bolt. Tom had his door wide open and Beck had her arms wrapped around his knee saying, "Me Tom ride, now, pleeeese." 

Tom stood there looking down and then at me as if to say, "Please remove this child from my leg." He never moved. Had he even moved back he would have caught her in the face with his knee.

Lisa, a girl that rode with me, was around twelve. We had sold her pony and looking for a 14.2 for her to compete on. Shemwas tall and skinny as a rake. She could get on Tom in the top yard and ride him down with no problem but he would still argue with me. 

David was loving his hunting on Tom. He had a fit horse thatncarried him well. If there were days when he couldn't hunt and the Meet was not to far away I would take Tom. Quite an honour as no one else had ever been allowed to hunt him.

Gemini had gone to horse heaven and was replaced with Basil, an ex steeplechaser. Standing around 16.2 dark bay and very solid, he was a good stamp. It was my job to get him fit for Point to Pointing. It wasn't difficult with the hills around us and I soon had him qualified. (They have to go out with Hounds at least eight times) so he had his certificate. 

At home he was fine to ride he was quite strong at the canter with other horses but nothing compared to what he was like out with Hounds! Many the time I headed up the steepest hill even if it was away from the direction the others were taking. If the Field was running up hill he would beat all to the top. 

Again he was a horse that was difficult to clip but I never had a problem with him. When he was racing fit he would judder as I did his neck causing the clippers to miss bits, and wouldmswish his tail,as I did his belly but I don't call that bad to clip.


----------



## Foxhunter

There was a Frenchman who asked me to clip his horse. Giles ( pronounced Jeeles) was a lovely man, he had married a woman with two daughters from a previous marriage. The youngest wanted a pony. Giles knew absolutely nothing about horses at the time and told the girl that if she had a ponynshe would have to do everything for it. 
So, Ann got her pony. A 13.2 dark bay ugly ****** with a mean look to it. It wasmturned out in a 10 acre field opposite their house. 

Ann came in several days after getting the pony tomsay that she couldn't catch it and it was chasing her and her friend out the field. Giles didn't know what to do so he went to the library and read a book with a chapter on 'How to Catch Your Pony'

Armed with the knowledge of how to catch your pony, he went out into the field with the two girls, a halter amd a carrot. 

_All the following wasmtold to me with a strong French accent._

"So, I go out with the halter and carrot and walked towards the pony. He was looking at me and as we got nearer so his head went up and ears back and he attacked. I beat the girls back to and over the gate!" 

"I went back to the library but could not find a book on how to catch a pony that attacks you. I waited until the girls were at school and I went back to the field. I had the halter and the the carrot and walked to the pony. 
His head went up and he charged at me. Now, what many people do not know is that I am a third dan in karate. As the pony came close so I swung to the side and I kicked him straight between the eyes." 

As he spoke so his leg came up foot level with his shoulder and kicked out in one fluid movement. 

" The pony galloped away. I walked after him and again he galloped towards me so I kicked him again. Again he galloped off. I followed amd this time he ran away from me. So, I thought that I would leave it for the moment, at least he wasn't charging me. As I walked towards the gate I heard trotting feet and pony was coming up to me. I stopped ready to kick I'm again but he stopped amd let me put the halter on him."


----------



## knightrider

Love the pony story @Foxhunter, but you left us hanging (on purpose???). Did the pony then start behaving for Ann? Did she come to love him and do well on him? Did they get him to behave and then sell him and get a nice friendly happy pony for Ann?


----------



## Foxhunter

He never offered to not be caught again when Giles was present. However he wasn't a generous pony and would take advantage of Ann so he was sold. Unfortunately Ann was put off riding by him so never got another but Giles had the bug so bought himself several lessons and then a horse. He was a natural rider. 

I lost touch with them some years ago. Ann's mother died way to young. Ann refused to go live with her father and stayed with Giles after lengthy court battles.


----------



## Foxhunter

_i went over to my neighbour's this afternoon to find great excitement! The ground floor flat of the building below them (the hills are steep so Dot's back yard is level with the roof) was on fire. Well, lots of smoke and three fire engines in attendance. It reminded me of an incident many moons ago. _

I was house sitting for a very wealthy friend, her house was on a creek and beautiful. All the halls were parquet flooring, the lounges, big and L shaped was decorated in white and gold. 

Her husband (a miserable much older man) was away and she was going to stay with a friend in London for a few days, hence me moving into the flat above he boat house to care for her four little dogs and two horses. 

She had left an the 6a.m. ferry and I went up at about 7. As I approached the house I thought that he windows looked rather black and started to rush. When I reached the front door I realised it was smoke. I unlocked the door, well aware that it might make matters worse but I had to call the fire brigade and get the dogs out. 

I couldn't see any flames anywhere and he kitchen had smoke billowing out into the rest of the house. I called the dogs who came running down the stairs and out the door. 

Luckily the phone was just inside the door, I grabbed it and called 999. I looked through the windows of the property and couldn't see anything but smoke. The utility room on the side ofmthe kitchen seemed to be the blackest. 

The firemen arrived within twenty minutes and with breathing apparatus entered. Next thing they opened the utility room door and the smoke belched out. A fireman was holding a saucepan, totally black, that was the cause of the smoke. She had put some depleting wax on the hob in the utility room amd forgotten about it. 

Everything was checked, windows opened and a blower put in to blow the smoke out. 

Eventually I was allowed in. The place was black with a very greasy soot. Walls, ceiling, floors everything. 
Pearl the cleaner arrived as the fire engine drove off. When she saw the mess she just cried. 

I had a London number to contact and I called it. I was told that she hadn't arrived yet. I knew she wasn't going to London and told her alibi to call her as soon as possible, it was an emergency.

Pearl and I tried vacuuming, it took up quite a lot but not enough. To make matters worse where th firemen had tramp through there was clear footprints over the hall and carpets.

Finally we got a call and I told her what had happened. She told me she would see what she could do then called me back to say that a cleaning form would come in. They arrived, around eight of them, and stripped the place. Walls were steam cleaned, carpets taken up and taken away to be cleaned. Pearl and I scrubbed and cleaned. Painters came in a repainted the walls and ceilings all in record time. 

The husband arrived back on the fifth morning. Pearl was there and apart from saying "Good morning, his first comment was, "Pearl, you have certainly given this place a great spring clean!" 

He never knew.


----------



## Foxhunter

* _One I forgot with Rhadigan. _

This was a complex mare. She had run with her sister for four of five years without even having a halter on. Work came as a shock and many things she would resent, her means of showing her annoyance was to throw a hissy fit. 

An example of this was she refused to go into the indoor, she napped and ground her teeth stamped her feet, shook her head in temper. A big stick was t the answer with her so I sat her out. She was facing the arena and thinking about things. One of the helper she brought me a cup of tea and then another, I had smoked several cigarettes before I felt her adjust herself ready to do something, I wasn't sure what but I was sure it wasn't to walk into the arena! 

I dropped my cup and was prepared without grabbing the reins or tensing up. One of the girls was about to empty a barrow on the muck heap,this meant walking in front of us. I told her to wait. She stopped just as Rhadigan did a 180 and trying to slam my leg into the wall. 
I flipped my leg forward so she hit her ribs on the corner of the stables. She double barrelled out, hit the wheelbarrow which went sailing through the air showering poop as it did so. The barrow hit the Perspex window of the indoor, shattering it. The noise was loud and she tried to scoot off with me but I had her making, turned her sharp and gave her three of the best. 

She couldn't get into the arena fast enough! 

Her owner was Foeld Master for the Hunt. The Meet was at the pub with the South Dorset bringing their Hounds over for the day and many of their members coming too. John asked me if I would second horse for him on Rhadigan though I knew he had absolutely no intention of swapping horses. 
The night before the Meet we had some torrential rain so much so that where they intended to take the guests was floodedmsomwemwent in a different direction.

After such rain scent was poor and we had a lot of hanging around. All of a sudden Hounds started to speak, Charlie broke away from a small copse, ran through the milling horses and up a hill. The Huntsman set off in pursuit and jumped a BIG hedge at the top of the hill. Friend Harold looked and me and said, "We can't let him get away with that," spun his horse Rick, around and followed. I locked on behind him. The rest of the Field were still standing around. Rick sailed the hedge and Rhadigan jumped it clean too. I will,say I was surprised as she wasn't the best of jumpers. 
We flew three more hedges, turned and started back down the hill. There was a hedge and a gate. The hedge was sparse and there was wire running through it so Harold took the wooden gate. I followed him and Rhadigan never even attempted to jump she just charged straight through it splintering it into matchstick sized pieces. 

Halfway down the hill the farmer was standing watching. I called out, "I'll come see you later Arty!" 
He called back, "You go for it girl, don't let them overners think theys better than us" 

The run was short and soon we pulled up. When the rest of the Field caught up one of the Hunt Committee started to dress me down as if a I was a small child. I let her have her say and just turned and said, " Never speak to me like that again Caroline, you forget who taught you to ride!" 

Bless Arty, he wouldn't let me pay for the gate.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Denise and Tony had bought a TB stallion, Glory aka Tosh, dark bay and around 16 hands. He was a lovely horse but one thought on his mind. Tony had covered a couple of mares with him but wasn't really they knowledgable with stallions and Tosh had got away from him a couple of times. 

Denise and I had been to school together and ridden together at the riding school, then her parents had bought her a pony and she kept it at her home. Later they had sold that house and moved toma place with its own land. She had several horses but never really did anything with them. I converted a bay mare she had once owned! 

Although riding a fair amount over the years she had never had lessons and Tosh would frighten her though he wasn't particularly strong. 

I found that I was doing all the work including looking after their ponies, milking the house cow and working Tosh. I didn't really mind but there were times when I needed help and it wasn't forthcoming. 

Even when we had some deep snow and I was walked the five miles there arriving about 9, neither of them had been out tomfeed or muck out. That peed me off. 

Denise and Tony had two daughters, Charlotte and Georgina, both under five. Charlotte was mad crazy on riding, George was a little to young to show such interest. 

When we had mares to cover Tosh would tease them over his stable door. The mare would be taken to the paddock and held and I would bring Tosh up to do his duty. 
To start with he was totally mannerless and I had a couple of arguments with him. He had fast realised he couldn't intimidate by acting up and walking up the slope on his hind legs. He would come down, as soon as his front feet hit the ground his back legs would lash out and he thought nothing wrong with smashing into whoever was leading him. 

We had, in the stable and out riding, come to an agreement about behaving and I could see nothing wrong with this falling under the same rules when I was taking him to do his favourite job. 
This particular day I had a four feet length of heavy duty plastic hosepipe. As expected he went vertical and I whacked him really hard across his back legs. It surprised him because when he came down he stood still and looked at me as if to say, "I wasn't expecting that!" 

He walked very politely to the paddock, even when he saw the mare being held he didn't attempt to rush. I held him so he could tease her again and then had him mount her by going over her withers and then working his way round. 
I held him amd pulled the mare's tail to the side, only tomrealise that his penis was bent in double, it was, so to say only offering half measure! 

Obviously, when I whacked him something had gone wrong with his retraction. 

He came away from the mare and I led him to the top of the paddock and let him eat grass. After a few minutes it all dropped out and he was ready. He did walk down nicely and was able to cover the mare.


----------



## knightrider

I love these stories. I can just imagine how it was!


----------



## Foxhunter

* The following spring I had hunted Tosh and he had a nasty overreach, I didn't like he way it looked after a couple of days and had the vet out to get some antibiotics. (You can't buy them without a prescription here) At the same time the vet decided to give him his flu/tet jabs. This he gave him in his chest rather than his neck. 

The next day Tosh was definitely off colour. He wasn't eating properly and was walking oddly around his stable. I pulled him out and realised that he was very stiff and tight in his chest area. He was having a bad reaction to his inoculations. 

A couple of days later he was feeling better in himself but still had quite a large swelling in his chest and was walking stiffly. We had a big Irish Draught mare in for covering. Meg, she was a heck of a tart and would come into season and stay in season all summer. 

So, Meg was teased and taken to the paddock. I led Tosh up but as soon as he mounted her and spread his front legs he jumped off as if he had been shocked with a stun gun. His mind was more than willing but it was just to painful for him.

It was around a week before he was able to fulfill his wishes. As I led him back to the stable so Charlotte skipped alongside me and said, "Well, that was a better one wasn't it?" 

Meg went back to her owner, the vet said she was in foal. In the September she was back in season so returned and this time was turned out in the field with Tosh and Cindy, the older rescue mare who was looking really well. 
Meg went home and Di, her owner decided to hunt her that season as she wouldn't be heavy in foal. She was tested and the vet said she wasn't in foal. 

I was on Tosh one day out hunting, doing gate duties with Di on Meg. We were trotting along a lane, Meg a few lengths in front of me. This was a big mare always inclined to 'look well' but I could see how she was very lopsided with her belly. When we stopped to close another gate I looked closer at the mare and told Di that I was positive she was in foal and, by the shape of her, to the end of April covering. 

A month later she foaled a lovely filly. On her September holiday she had pestered Tosh to keep covering her yet she was well on foal by then!


----------



## Foxhunter

* I had two horses that belonged to Lesley and Geoff. Lesley's mare Melody was a real sweetheart, Geoff, a novice rider, had bought a grey TB whilst away in holiday. The horse was in poor condition and a bit much for Geoff to ride. 

David and I had been out Hunting with Tom and Melody. It had been a boring day and we had left around 2 o'clock. As we were riding back to the horsebox so Hounds found and were away absolutely screaming. Without any hesitation David and I took off in hot pursuit. We had a great run, and only one other person with us. The three couple of Hounds had broken away from the main pack - which had gone in the opposite direction. 
When they marked the fox to ground, we gathered them up and rode back to where all the lorries were parked up. 

The next day I had a lot to do. Tom was rarely napping with me and I had started to double up with him so, this morning I decided to just give Melody and Tom a leg stretch around the block. I set out and both were acting like idiots. The block wasn't going to be enough for them so I thought I would give them more. 
I turned off the road and went down past the sewerage works, Tom was bucking and Melody was annoying him by nipping him. The pair were taking advantage! 
Past the sewerage works the track went uphill. I started to canter, Tom bucking, Mel pulling. At the top we were to go past the kennels of the Beagle pack, as we neared so these hounds began to sing. Tom stopped dead, Mel shot ahead, (I only had her in a flat halter) I dropped her whereby she spun around and galloped back to the sewerage works. I charged after her and caught her without having to dismount, then set off back past the kennels. Fortunately Tom went straight past.

Again I decided to go further and instead of turning back towards home went on along the road. 

I turned off the road through a farm and had to open a gate into the next field. The track was at the bottom of a hill that had been planted with kale. The dairy cows had grazed this down and the track was very wet with liquid mud. When I was opening the gate mounted Mel ended up in my right hand, not my normal hand for leading. As I cantered through the mud Mel was nipping at Tom's side. He was pulling like a train. 

The track went downhill to the next gate. I shortened my reins and started to pull Tom back, at the same time saying "Whoa, whoa whoa." As I took a haul and started to sit back in the saddle so his backend came up. Someohow he caging my butt catapulting me out the saddle straight over his head. 
Somehow I must have done a handstand on his neck twisted and landed straight in front of him. The reins had come over his head and I was holding them and facing him. Melody, I had dropped and she took off bucking up the hill. 

Tom's face was a picture, his eyes were on beanstalks staring at me as if to say "All I have done to get you off my back and you didn't and all I did was a little buck!" 

The mud had splattered thickly up the inside of my legs. 

Mel came cantering back having had a wonderful roll out of sight. I was t sure who was the muddiest, her or me. 

Riding home wasn't very comfortable but the pair settled and behaved well. So much for me trying to cut corners!


----------



## Foxhunter

* We had some snow one morning, it was the right sort of snow, big flakes no wind and soon several inches were on the ground. 

Tom was being very silly, rushing to the door, snorting and then spooking back inside. I decided to turn him out in the stallion paddock and turn Melody out with them whilst I mucked them both out. 
They bucked and farted, rolled, rolled some more and set off high tailing it showing off. Tom was fully clipped, Mel blanket clipped and as I was only going to be a few minutes and knew they would be charging around I had let them both out naked. 

I wasn't long in doing their stables and as I walked out to get them in so Tom took off again around the paddock, at the top he jumped the 5' rails and much to my shock Melody followed him. They high tailed it down across two field and were having a party messing around. It was still snowing heavily. I traipsed down the field to catch them only to be shown clean heels as they took off again. 

Me being me thought, "Sod you two idiots, you can stay out!" 

I resumed mucking out turning the others in the paddock whilst I did their stables. Fortunately although they had a fling they were waiting to come back in. 

I walked back down and again they waited until I got close and took off so I went back and into the house to get a drink. When I came back out both were waiting at the gate looking wet and miserable!


----------



## Foxhunter

* The snow melted and we hadn't some hard frosts, the stream running down the side of the road overflowed and the lane was inches thick with ice. It wasn't safe to ride out. 

A couple of days before this frost a friend of mine out Hunting had taken a bad fall. I ended up with his horse and his daughter's pony staying with me. 
David sent over his cattle wagon so I could take the horses to the beach. Rod, who drove the lorry was a bit of a rider and I knew he'd be OK on Aztec, the hunter, and could lead Bell, Geof's horse whilst I rode Tom amd led Melody. Lisa could ride the pony.

Unfortunately this never worked out. Tony called Lesley and told her I was taking the horses to the beach so she and Geoff turned up. I was furious, I knew Leslie's would be fine but Geoff was over horsed with Bell who was bound to be fresh from the cold weather and having no exercise for a couple of days. 

My instincts were right and Bell took off with Geof. He turned him into the promenade wall and fell off when the horse stopped sharply. Give the man his due he refused the offer to swap with Rod and got back on. It happened again only this time he turned Bell into the sea. Bell hit the water OK but when a small wave with a white cap came towards him he turned and left Geoff in the water. Poor man was soaked to the skin and with a bitter easterly wind was soon blue with cold. 

We went back to the lorry, luckily they had brought their car. Geoff stripped off in the back of the lorry, I gave him my sweater and my long johns, wrapped in a blanket he and Lesley headed home with the car heater blowing full blast. 

The three of us resumed our ride. I got onto Bell, Rod was on Tom, Lisa on Aztec and all leading one. We charged along the beach jumping breakwaters. The horses enjoyed themselves and we had a laugh.


----------



## Foxhunter

* One morning my cousin Gill was coming to rode. I was in a hurry and wanted to worm the ponies. I did the two Welshies and then went to do a 14.2 pony livery. 
I had a worming gun, oral warmers had just come out, I grabbed his halter stuck the gun in the side of his mouth and he reared up catching his knee under my chin. 

There was a loud crunch on my head and I realised that my teeth had been knocked out. I was fast to lean forward and spit my teeth into my hand. There were many, some taken out by the roots others just broken off. 
My nose was bleeding and I had a feeling I had also broken my jaw. 

I grabbed a handful of tissues from my pocket and covered my mouth. Gill was shocked but took my orders well. 

We went into the house, Denise and Tony were out and there were two builders knocking down a wall. Everything was covered in dust sheets. Gill was searching for the phone. Fortunately she knew the dentist number as she often called my sister there. 
One of the workman came over and asked what had happened. Gill said, "She's had her teeth kicked out."
He immediately came to me and said, "Let Uncle Pete have a look." 
I removed the now very bloody tissues from my face, he looked and immediately fainted. Fat help he was! 

I asked the other builder to get me some toilet roll amd he came back with two squares. I told him I wa Ted to stop the bleeding not to wipe my butt!

Gill called the dentists and we were soon there. Before we went in I asked her to check there were no small children in the waiting room. We were parked on double yellow lines and who should come along but the traffic warden. All full of authority he told me I could t park there. I removed the tissue from my face, he went as white as a ghost and walked off. 

I went in when it was all clear and straight to the bathroom to try and clean myself up a bit. I was still grasping my teeth in a dimly clenched hand. 

I stayed in the bathroom for a few minutes and then the receptionist told me to go straight up. Roy, my dentist was a lovely man but a bit of a smoothie. He had a teen lad in the other half of the surgery. He came to me saying, "Oh, what have you been up to? " looked in my mouth and immediately started being so sympathetic, something I was never use to. 

I could tell from his expression that it was bad. I started to blubber which elicited more sympathy which made me worse. In the end I told Janet, his dental nurse to go make me a cup of tea and for Roy to finish treating the teen so I could get control of myself. 
Roy offered me Valium which I didn't want. 

Janet brought me the tea, Roy finished his patient and called down to reception to ask her to cancel his appointments. Barbara said that those waiting were only to pleased to disappear as they had seen me coming in. 

Roy started work on me about 9.15, I told him to stop being so bloody nice and if I started to cry to tell me to shut up, how could he deal with matters if I was blubbering? 

Sally came in to see me, went as white as a ghost and was sent home! She was shocked. 

Numbed up Roy replaced the whole teeth, sealed off the broken ones after doing root fillings. By this time it was gone 1 p.m. They called Gill whomwasmat my Mother's amd she came to pick me up. I walked into the kitchen and for only the second time in my life Mum was sympathic high I knew would set me off again. I told her to shut up and went through to the living room where Gran was. 
Gran said, "I hear you've had your teeth kicked out. I had to walk three miles to the dentist to have mine done and then three miles back. Oh well, worse things happen at sea, at least you don't drown riding horses!" 

I had to laugh and realised where Mum had got it from. 

After a tepid cup of tea Gill drove me to the ER to have X rays, one tooth was missing and Roy was worried I might have it in a lung. It wasn't but nose and jaw were fractured. 

At around 5 p.m. I went back to the surgery for more work. Impressions had been taken and I had dental shields put on to hold the replaced teeth in place. 

Many trips to the dentist over the next couple of months for more root fillings and fitting of caps and a bridge to cover the misplaced front tooth. 

I swell more than bruise and looked a right picture for the next few days but I was back in the saddle the day after and did go hunting three days later. 

Taught me a lesson - when worming a horse always stand facing the same way as they are!


----------



## Foxhunter

* David had two children, Sam and Sophie. Sam wasn't really interested in riding but did on occasion. David brought the ponies over one day so the children could ride with us. 
The pony Sam was on was a driving pony, nice sensible stamp of horse. Wemwere returning along the road and David kept yelling at Sam to keep the pony into the side of the road. Poor Sam was trying to no avail the pony kept in the centre of his side of the road. I turned to David and told him to stop nagging Sam - the pony was allowing room for the cart! 

He hadn't thought of that. 

David came down one day moaning about Sam. He had been to the mainland taking cattle to market amd buying some to run on. When they got back David told Sam to stand one side of the ramp some cattle went into the field. Sam said "No." 

David said he was furious and pointed out that one day all this land would be his to which Sam replied, "I'm not going to be a farmer." 

"Oh somwhat are you going to be?"

"A vicar!" 

"What do you mean a vicar?"

"Well, i had something to tell you and you wouldn't listen. We go to church and have to listen to the vicar and he talks rubbish but we all still listen."

"What do you mean he talks rubbish?" 

"Well he was going on about God creating the world and all the land with animals and things in a week. Takes grass longer hands a week to germinate so he wasn't talking the truth."

David said he was speechless! 

Sam is well grown and a businessman and not a farmer.


----------



## Foxhunter

* During the summer when the hunters were turned out, I spent quite a lot of time teaching. I also offered to help out Lisa's parents in their hotel as they were short on chambermaids. 

After a ruckus in the kitchen the chef walked out. A of the waitress had done her full hotel management at college so stepped in to cook. The lad who was doing the washing up went to help her with prep so there was no one to do the dishes. A couple of women wanted to chambermaid in replies tomadverts so I went into the still room to do the dishes. 

Angela was thrown in at the deep end and was a bit flustered with it all but we survived the first day. The waiters were difficult, they would just come in and dump the dishes without scraping them. Cutlery they (waiters) did by hand. I would do as much as I could for them and expected them to stack dishes in return. 

They didn't play fair so, I would leave all the side plates they needed to set tables for the next meal so they all had to wait for me. Didn't take long for them to be stacking dishes. 

It was about the forth day and Angela was having trouble getting everything served up. I went through to help her catch up. Now, the kitchens were below surface and the still room had only a small expelair fan to move the air around. I don't do heat so my attire was sandals, shorts, bikini top amd an apron (which Tony the owner had bought me - a semi nude lady with tassels on the titties) 

It was lunchtime and a hot dessert was served. On this occasion it was apple crumble. I pulled the tray out the oven and set it on the side. Anger started to cut and when some crumble fell to the side I picked it up to eat. I soon spat it out as it was made with salt and not sugar! 

Vera, the head waiter refused to tell the guests. (These were mostly from coach parties) telling Ange it was her mistake somshe should. Poor girl was in floods of tears, so I grabbed a chefs hat and a dish mop and crashed through the door into the dining room. 

"Sorry to interrupt your meal," I said loudly, "I am here to conduct a survey." 

They all looked perplexed. 

"Hands up all those who like porridge."

Majority of hands went up. 

"How many of you eat it the Scottish way, with salt instead of sugar?" 

Two men had their hands up. 

"How many of you have ordered apple crumble?" 

Most hands went up including the two men.

"Well," I said pointing at the two me, "You two might like it as it has been made with salt not sugar. Now, who wants apple crumble?"

All hands remained down. I then apologised and explained the error saying we would bring out the cold trolley. Majority of the good people were very sympathetic and told us not to bother - they were eating to much anyway! 

I was tied to being in the hotel three times a day but the money was good and I could fit in lessons around the hours there. 

Working with a good group of people and mixing with the guests (I often did bar work in the evenings) was fun. Many practical jokes were played on each other and the guests too.


----------



## Foxhunter

* There was a young Malayan boy, Mark, who worked there and lived in. He was very shy and in the UK for school to get qualifications to attend university here. He didn't get the English humour and although the others tried to get him to join in he thought they didn't like him because of the tom foolery. He hadn't been home for two years and was obviously homesick. His parent had put everything in for his education and they weren't a rich family. 

One early morning I went in tomdo early tea, delivered to the rooms. I switched on the boilers and started to set up the trays. Mark was working with me. I heard a funny noise from the dining room amd went through to see Mark in just a pair of shorts doing Marshall arts. He wasn't very tall but boy, did he have a fit body! I watched to a bit and when he saw me he hastily put on his shirt and moved the tables he had cleared back into position apologising all the time. 

In the summer the town has a carnival (parade) with various events being held all week. One of these event was an It's a Knockout where teams of contestants have to do silly games. We entered a team, I was the non playing captain. 

One of the events was a greasy pole. A pole about the size of a telegraph pole, was set up on two frames about 5' high. Mark asked what was happening and I explained it to him immediately he said "Oi wanna do dis." 
The rest of the team thought it wasn't a good idea and said that one of the bigger lads should do it but I went against them and let Mark have a try. 

We were drawn in the first bout. The man against Mark was over 6' and well overweight. Mark looked tiny compared to him. The referee called me over and agued that Mark would be hurt to which Mark replied "E gotta it me first!"

The man climbed up the frame to get on the pole Mark stood with his hand on the pole and vaulted up kicking his feet in front of him. This shocked everyone. 

They were given pillows to bash each other, hands were not to touch the pole. The man drew his pillow back as did Mark and as soon as the word "Go" was shouted Mark let out the most blood curdling scream. The man fell straight off! 

It was the best of three and he was saying that he let Mark have that one. Wrong, he did exactly the same thing next time.

Other teams swapped their entrant as it was soon obvious the bigger they were the less balance they had. Mark never once got hit. One time he swung 360 right around the pole without using his hands. His opponent was looking to the side he had slipped and got bashed off from the other side. That lad was so flexible and agile with perfect balance and coordination it was a pleasure to watch. 

We won not only that contest but also the junior one the next afternoon. 

_Sorry, went totally off tangent with the last two posts! _


----------



## Foxhunter

* David was into Pont to Pointers and after Christmas we would go schooling them. 

A mutual,farmer friend who held a permit for jump racing, (he could only train his own horses) would let us go over to his farm and school there or we would,go to David's farm. 

I would rode Tom to give them a lead, obviously he couldn't keep up with them galloping but I could cut corners and give the lead over hedges and the schooling fences. 

Tom loved it. With the seasoned horses he was fine jumping as he should. With th eyoungsters he was terrible in that when they came alongside him he would either take off a good stride early or get to close. 

I was safe, I knew he wouldn't get himself in trouble but the youngsters would,often try to emulate him despite the jockey trying to get them to take off at the correct place. This led to a couple of falls and many times the horses crashing through the fences. All to the good as the youngsters learned to listen to the jockey or concentrate on what they were doing rather than the horse alongside them! 

One day David had Phil, he farrier rode a new horse. A mare that had been well and truly spoilt by her owner breeder. This mare was nappy, had little steering and liked her own way. When she refused at a hedge Phill kept booting her until,she went through it. She would also try to dive out and despite Phil pulling on the opposite twin she would ignore him. Most of the reason for this was that her bit was so low it was nearly falling out of her mouth. 

We had come up across the fields jumping the hedges and then had to swing round a corner, Phill went straight on! We were near David's tackroom so decided to change her bridle as the cheek pieces were on the top hole. Not successful in finding a bridle to fit, they were either same size or to small so problem was solved by knotting her own cheek pieces (that's how long they were!) 

Tom would jump anything unless it was a coloured pole and then he wouldn't go within 20 yards of it! 

When out hunting he would clear a big gate with just one stride of walk going into it. He was as clever as a cat when it came to agility. 

I have jumped many horses over e years and have never had the feeling of sheer power that Tom gave me.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Denise and Tony were splitting up and selling the place so I had to find somewhere else. This was a nice little yard but further away from me. 

Lesley and Geoff had their horses at home so I had Tom and a couple of others. The sad part was that the riding wasn't anywhere near as good. 

So, I moved. Tom had a very big stable which was ideal for him. Just crossed my mind that he would be eating, I would muck him out and as soon as I had finished he would stop eating get down mud roll and then resume eating again. Just another of his quirks. 

I had another hunter livery belonging to a farmer who had actually bred Tom. Ron had sold him to David as he didn't have the time for him. 

So I set into a routine, I would rode Tom amd lead Duke, Ron's horse. This was generally fine unless Tom decided to do his testing of me! 

Two incidents occurred, the first was when I had ridden up through the village and set off along a lane. All was fine until I got to a humpback bridge over a stream. Tom dug his heels in and started to nap, this wasn't a tester, this was a full on, 'I am NOT going this way.' Something he hadn't done in ages. 
I was handicapped with having Duke. Fortunately a friend came along and took Duke off me so I could get after Tom. I gave him a good larruping and he suddenly just gave up and trotted over the bridge. Later I found out from Ron that when he had Tom he had a woman come to rode him out on exercise. She couldn't get him to go down this lane so had given up with him. Tom had remembered from years before. 

The other time was on a different road. This was a longish straight road, fairly busy with heavy traffic as the rubbish dump was along it. 

I was happily trotting along the road when a dust cart came towards me. I could feel Tom thinking of fun. The driver started to slow down, I was beckoning him to keep coming, Tom would not have played up if it was moving at a reasonable speed. So, with the cart moving at a crawl Tom spun across the road and jumped the hedge. This wasn't a little hedge, it was a BIG hedge in height and width. 

I had to drop Duke who couldn't give a hoot. He just started to graze on the bank. The dustmen grabbed Duke's rope and were most concerned about me. There was a gate out onto the road but it was locked shut so I had the men move out the way, popped over the gate, took hold of Duke and continued on my merry way! 
,


----------



## marianmaj

Snowball! I haven't heard that name in 55 years! we had a donkey named Snowball that i rode as a 5 year old. My Dad got him first to see if we really would be committed to horse care and of course we were and ended up with three horses and a pony for me.


----------



## Foxhunter

* At the other end of the village was a farm owned by two elderly brothers. The farmhouse was picturesque, old stone and a thatched roof. One brother died and the other found it to hard on his own so decided to sell. Ron wanted the land but so did many other people, however Ron told the man that he could continue to live in the house for as long as he wanted. That clinched the deal. 

I was then offered the buildings and a small paddock in return for doing Duke. A more than fair deal so again I moved. 

David had been buying cattle and came back with cattle and a young unbroken 4 year old horse. He called me to see if I could have him and start him. 

George arrived. Around 16.2, mahogany bay with a couple of socks amd a star. A mane that was well below his lower nick and a tail dragging on the ground. 

This was a BIG horse, not in stature but in obesity. I have never before or since seen a horse as fat as he was. Flesh along his spine was higher than his backbone and when it rained it actually held water. 

I don't think he had had much handling at all. His feet were naturally broken off and he really hadn't a clue about anything. He was a natural trier and a gentleman and someasy going. 

I was worried about lungeing him with so much weight being carried and took to lonreining him out and about. This had way more effect on me loosing weight than him! 

Finding a saddle to fit him was something else. I was adverse to using one of mine as it would stretch the tree. I went to David's and raided his tackroom coming home with a very old hunting saddle, canvas underside something you don't get now. I wouldn't say it was a good fit at all but it wouldmget him use to having a saddle on. 

Next problem was finding a girth to fit. Nothing I had would go anywhere near even reaching thensaddle let alone buckling up. I recalled that Phil, the farrier just up the road had a second hand leather girth in the tack shop that was so stretched it would go completely round most horses. This was the closest I got to a girth reaching but still had to use a girth extender. 

George really couldn't have cared less about the saddle or girth. 

I got kicked by a cow and had a poorly ankle, so I think it was the second or third day after I had saddled him, amd less than two weeks since he arrived, I climbed on board and rode him around the village. 

I had told friends about the size of this horse and no one believed me. The local Riding Club was holding a members show not far away so I decided to rode him there to show I wasn't fibbing. 

I rode him through the forestry and upma bridal,path. This involved opening and closing two gates which he did like and old hand. At the show everyone was in awe of his size and laughing at how he wobbled if you rubbed him anywhere. 

Di, the secretary asked laughingly why I hadn't entered him in for the Rding Club Horse class, with that others were laying bets down on him being entered. I wasn't appropriately dressed wearing coloured jodhpurs, and a polo shirt. People were fast to come up with a tie and jacket so, always game for a laugh, I went in for the class. (I will add that his mane had been pulled and whilst waiting I quickly braided his mane. 

There were about forty riders in this class. The judge watched us all rode around and then announced that as this was a Riding Club Horse, they should be able to jump so we all left the arena whilst he set up five jumps about 2' in height. All natural fences bar a small gate which wasn't set going directly away from the collecting ring. 

I wasn't going to do this jumping lark, it was t worth it as there were so many and he should never have been placed. However, by the end there were only four clears most falling foul of the gate going away from the other horses, so, egged on by more bets, I went in. 

I had obviously not jumped George, heck, I hadn't even cantered him so, off we went, at a trot. Came to the first jump, he slowed, had a good look and hauled himself over. This is how we became the fifth clear. 

Only the five of us were invited back in, the judge pulled us into line and asked to ride each horse. When it came time to ride George, he mad the comment, " He looks very well!" 

I corrected him and said, "No, he's obese, this is only the forth time he has been ridden and we are in the right place, don't do yourself an injury by splitting the difference and leave us in fifth place." 

He seemed relieved! 

George came home with a rosette and me with several pound profit.


----------



## Knave

That is a great story! Whatever happened to the big boy?


----------



## Foxhunter

* The place where the show had been held was in the grassed car park of the Country Park. This was a tourist attraction and they had several 'unusual' animals, llamas, wallabys, rare breed pigs and sheep and a few other critters too. 

So after George's debut into equestrian sports, I left to rode him home. The bridle path was to one side of the field so I could just ride across to get on it. 
About fifty yards on there was a big thick hedge with an overgrown gap. Thisnwas on a short steep bank which had not proved a problem riding to the show. Going down was a question George wasn't sure how to answer. 
He dithered on the edge, at the same time trying to eat his way through the gap, he wanted to lower his head to examine the footing which I allowed him to do at the same time keeping my legs on and nudging him. In the end, with his nose nearly on the ground he took his first tentative step forward, followed by the next which landed inched ahead of the first hoof, his head still right down. I was ready for him to rush the last few steps which was lucky because he just got his nose past the thick hedge and whipped around 180 charging back up the bank and down the path. 
I pulled him up and he was shaking and I could hear his heart beating. 

What had spooked him? As he turned I had a quick glance at a pair of ostriches mating! A huge heap of feathers quivering and two entwined necks moving to the beat. 

George was so honest that with a little more trepidation he went back down e slope, he had his head up and was looking for the ostriches. Luckily they had moved on.


----------



## Avna

Well that would freak me right out too.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Ron was always in a rush, for him to have time to follow Hounds was never easy, he always wanted to hunt but having a busy dairy farm wishes often went to the wall. 

He had called me to say he would hunt the next day but would be a bit late. I told him I would have Duke ready and leave him tacked and tied up. 

Ron arrived as we were leaving the Meet, I stopped to give him a hand only to find that he had hitched the trailer and forgotten to load the horse. 

Took him a long time to live that one down!


Another day I was hacking to the Meet, I wasn't hunting that day but David wanted to go out and it wasn't far away so I would rode there and take his car back. 

One Hunt member, Anthony, was unloading his horse from the trailer. He was inside with the ramp up and said to me, "The zip to my flies won't stay up!" 

By sheer chance I had picked a pin up and stuck it in my jacket so I handed it to him and he was able to hold the zip up with that. 

At the Meet he was going round saying how wonderful I was as I had mended his flies. 

This became a joke with everyone - including Anthony's wife. Anthony sent me a short poem thanking me and I had to reply. This went on for the rest of the season. 

The following season we were back to normal, until i went to London and in a shop saw some Willy Warmers, I couldn't resist it and bought some for a laugh. 

Anthony wasn't out on Boxing Day, he was on the mainland with his family. The next time he was out I handed him a carefully wrapped package wishing him a Happy Christmas. I did this on front of everyone and Anthony was quite embarrassed. He refuse to open the gift and slipped it into his inner pocket of his hunting coat. 

Anthony was a very wealthy man, he lived on a beautiful house and commuted to London where he was a partner in a top accountancy firm. We didn't know each other at all, didn't even exchange Christmas cards let alone gifts. 

Next time I saw him he was roaring with laughter over the gift. He told me that he had got back to the house which was empty, his wife and children were at her parents. 

He ung his jacket up amd emptied the pockets finding my gift, which he had forgotten about. When he undid it and saw what it was he said he spluttered his whisky all over the kitchen. He said he was disappointed Alex wasn't there to share the laugh. When the housekeeper came in he showed her and she thought it totally inappropriate! 

Anthony's horse was one of the best hunters I have ever come across. The horse was a saint! On one boring day Anthony had dismounted and I, on my horse, undid his girth from the off side. When Hounds started to speak he went to get on only to end up on his butt with the saddle on top of him. That horse just stood there looking down at him!


----------



## Foxhunter

* I was doing a lot of freelancing in teaching and schooling ere were three of us in the neighbourhood who had the reputation for difficult horses. 

Me, Phil, the farrier _whomwas_ less than half a mile up the road, amd Harold, a farmer whose land was next to where I was. Phil had a good set up, a big outdoor arena quite a few stables and a tack shop. He was married to an old Riding companion of mine, Pam and had two sons. 

Phil did quite a lot of dealing - often lovely horses very cheap because of issues. 

I was asked by the riding school I had been at as a child, if I could help break on a mare for their daughter. 

I went to see these people, new to the Island. Cannot say I was at all impressed! However the reason they wanted me was because the daughter who did all the breaking was getting married and didn't have time. They had bought the horse at the New Forest sales for one of the younger girls, Binny. 

The older girl told me that Binny had messed the mare right up and was ruining her. Amanda, the daughter that competed a lot agreed and eh were really nasty about Binny. The mother wasn't any better telling me, infront of Binny, that she was missing marbles and as thick as a plank. In retrospect I am sure this is the reason I took on the mare, to help Binny. 

The mare was around 16 hands, nicely put together. Evidently she had lunged fine with Miranda but when Binny lunged her she was terrible and wouldn't go at all. Mother insisted that although they got her from the sales the vendors were great friends of hers and said the mare had never had anything done with her other than halter broken. 

I took her into the arena and started to lunge her. That mare knew every trick in the book to avoid lungeing, she wouldmturn and face and then run back, turn in the opposite direction come at me, rear, try to get her head away and tank off. It took me quite a while to get her to understand that I wasn't there to be laughed at, chaffed at or made a fool of! When she realised she lunged beautifully, knew all e voice commands and would go from walk to canter and canter to halt all from the voice and body language. When I went into the house I told the mother that she would be problematic as she had had a lot done with her so there was obviously a problem along the way. 

I wanted to get her over to me but mother wouldn't have it so I worked her each day. She knew exactly what the bridle was, she never flinched when I put a saddle on and knew how to longrein like an old pro. The more I did the more I was convinced this was going to be a ridden problem and I had an idea it might be pretty bad. 

I worked her for two weeks and then I was going to a mainland wedding. I told them that I wouldn't be back until the following Tuesday. Told Binny what to do with the mare and off I went. 

On the ferry returning some horsey friends were also on the ferry. They asked if I had heard what had happened with the mare. I hadn't and they informed me that Amanda and Miranda decided that Binny should be riding the mare. Binny refused so one of their liveries said they would get in. The mare was having none of it and the lad ended up pretty busted up. Another person said they would ride her and he too was injured. 

I was furious and never bothered to turn up on the Tuesday. Thursday mother called me and I told her that if they thought they could do a better job then get on with it. The only way I would have anything to do with th eMate was if she came to my place. They had no choice but to agree. 

I would pick Binny up amd she spent the day with me at weekends. I liked the girl she wasn't thick at all, anything but. With me she had her confidence built up, would do anything to please me and tried so hard. She wasn't a bad rider either, just in need of tidying up. 

_To be continued_


----------



## Foxhunter

* The mare came to me and I worked her hard leading her out from another horse and lungeing her. No one had the same story when I asked what had happened. Considering these people were meant to be professionals I found it very poor plus two people had been injured. They had never heard forewarned is forearmed. 

Binny, when I managed to get her on her own told me that when they tried to get on her she had flipped straight over backwards. She had flattened one and trod all over the second when she was getting up. They had beaten her thoroughly. 

She was ready for backing but I knew I needed help so I went up to Phil's. I had led her out twice (3 hrs) then lunged her for a further 39 minutes. Phill had a hold of her and I tried to mount, sure enough she just flipped. She did this three times. We then laid her down, I sat on her as she got up whereby she just flipped. I was ready and bailed clear. 

We discussed this and decided to call in Harold. 

On the Sunday morning I rode Tom and led her to the beach. Lisa was on Horace, a big heavyweight hunter. Phil and Harold met us on the beach. Phil was on Tom, Harold and me on Horace with the mare inbetween. We rode out into the water. 
This beach is very shallow, you can ride out a long way and not be out of depth. Tidal sands are never completely level so there are deeper parts but you have to go nearly half a mile out before it is truly deep. 

This was March/April time. Word had spread and many horsey people were either watching, riding their horses or walking their dogs even though tide was high so not much sand to walk or ride along. 

We waded out until the horses were chest deep. I had not only tack but also a lungeing caveson with two lunge lines attached, Phil amd Harold holding one each. I went from Horace onto her back, she tried to go up but the two horses jammed against her and the water stopped her from going right up. She was thinking about what to do when we hit shallower water, this resulted in her plunging forward, next thing I was on my own! She was plunging forward with fly leaps hampered by the water it wasn't hard to sit. Next thing we were in deep water, coming up to inches below her withers. 

I tried to turn her but she locked her jaw and kept going straight out to sea - we were swimming. I slipped off her back keeping a good grip on the neck strap, pulled on the right rein and splashed water in her face to try and get her to turn but, no, she was heading for the mainland. 

We were out beyond the pier which is half a mile long. The hovercraft passed us and all I could think was "How am I going to get back from the mainland, I haven't any money on me?" , 

It was so cold! Finally she turned and headed back to the correct shore. Phil and Harold rode out to meet me when we hit shallower water and sandwiched beyptween the two boys we trotted in belly deep water before getting onto the sand wher we cantered in the soft sand. 

It wasn't for long as I was so cold to the point beyond shivering. The only dry place on me was under my helmet. 

Harold rode her back and another friend rode Tom and Lisa on Horace. I went back in another friend's car wrapped in blankets, I got into a bath in her house and it felt like I was getting into boiling water. I soaked until moving didn't hurt my joints though I still felt cold inside. 

Next day the mare was tired, I led her out and went back to Phil's she wasn't a problem to get on and ride. Rode her in the arena and then out around the roads. Did the same on the Tuesday and then took her out Hunting Wednesday, rode her the other two days hunted Saturday and took her to a show on the Sunday. I gave her the Monday off. 

She never offered any problems to mount or ride again. She did loose a lot of weight that week butnsoon gained it back as good behaviour warranted more hard feed.


----------



## Foxhunter

* I kept the mare with me and Binny would spend the weekends with em. She was a great young teen and tried so hard. 

The mare had a good natural jump to her and was very well balanced. I had them compete in small shows unaffiliated the following spring and then had her registered to jump the bigger classes. 

First show Binny was very nervous as she was competing against her sister, Amanda, it was a Newcomers, fences up to 3'3" I walked the course with Binny and mother and sister were loudly laughing that for Binny to enter was a waste of money because she was to thick to remember the course. Friends of mine also walking the course knew I was getting mad and one, Di, came over and quietly said, "Don't give them the pleasure of getting to you!" 

It wasn't me, I knew they were undermining Binny. 

I took a tough stance and told Binny that she wasn't to let me down, that I had every confidence in her remembering the course and of jumping clear - which, I am proud to say she did. 

There were about six horses in the jump off including Amanda with her two horses. She went in on her first horse, the jump off was against the clock somshe went as fast as she could more or less flat out, she had one fence down. 

There were a couple of clears and then Binny went in. I had told her not to race but where to turn and turn tight inside of a couple ofmfences which she did and went clear with the fastest time. Her face when she came out was one of radiance unlike her mother's amd sister's which were as black as thunder clouds. 

When Amanda went in on her second horse she was flat out again and tried to make the turns which resulted in a refusal that sent Amanda to the ground, when she remounted she was hitting the horse and jabbing it in the mouth. I, in my best teaching voice said to no one in particular, "That is a very good example of bad horsemansship!" 

All heard. 

Binny won a fair few classes, nothing major but did very well and had a real bond with the mare. I went to give her a lesson and nothing went right. Binny and the mare were off. I asked why and after sobbing Binny told me that Amanda had been riding the mare and was going to jump her in classes. 

There was nothing I could do, Binny was a good rider and thought of her horse. All I could do was assure her that Amanda had met her match with this mare. 

At the next show Amanda went into the ring and was hustling the mare so the mare stopped and napped. This got her a beating which got Amanda bucked off. Me being such a great sportswoman cheered! 

In the end the mare reverted to not allowing Amanda to mount her. 

Binny was given the horse back more or less wrecked. Binny had saved some money and asked if I would have her back. Once back with me the mare relaxed and was fine. Binny started to win again and there were no problems. 

I don't know what happened as they sold the riding school and moved back to the mainland.


----------



## boots

Poor Binny.


----------



## Foxhunter

Yes, I agree. I hate bullies and Binny was undermined on all sides. She wasn't the fastest learner, I suspect she might be dislexic but testing back then was not the norm, but I have rarely met anyone who tried harder.


----------



## knightrider

What a great story. You may have saved that girl.


----------



## Foxhunter

I possess a terrible red zone rage and if I hit that zone then I am dangerous. 

I have never lost it over things about me but always with either cruelty to animals or other children. 

First time I was around five. Back in those days there wasn't the traffic around and every adult looked out for children regardless of knowing them or not. I had been for a walk with our Lab, Lassie and Aunty Eve's Judy. Across the road an older boy, in his early teens was dragging his spaniel up alongside him and then bringing his foot up and kicking it under the jaw. The dog's mouth was bleeding and I lost it. I flew into this boy from behind and had him on the ground where I proceeded to sit across his chest. My knees pining his arms and holding an ear in each hand smashed his head on the pavement. 

It took two adults to pull me off. I ran home crying. Lassie and Judy, whilst I was smashing him were taking nips at his legs, Mum was t sure if I had bitten someone or the dogs had. She went to the shop amd Mr Farley told her that he was about to have a go at the boy when I attacked! 

All I know is that the dog was rehomed.t

I don't know where my sense of fair play came from. Mum would always tell us that if someone was 'different' that there but for the grace of God goes you or one of yours. Different didn't mean exclusion it meant that we had to learn to understand and adjust to accommodate that person.


----------



## Foxhunter

* i was asked to go help a woman I had known for some years, asked me to go help with her horses. 

She was a very experienced show jumper having travelled the national circuit for several years. She always had lovely horses, and those she now had were all out of her best jumper. 

D. had Anthem and Razz, two others, unbroken were also present and a retired show horse/jumper, Navan, and a cob livery. I went over and we went out for a rode on the beach. I was on the gelding Razz, and she on Anthem. Both horses were overly spooky but nothing to bad. Anthem had a reputation for bucking. 

We had ridden along the sands and to get to the other side meant riding under the life boat ramp. This was a concrete ramp sloping across the beach. Not a great deal of headroom. We were walking under and I was leaning forward slightly because of head room. As Razz's head was clear so he exploded nearly sending me head first into the ramp. I had to go right forward and he continued to buck. Whether it was skill or sheer luck I stayed in thensaddle and my immediate reaction as soon as I had a hold on the reins was to both boot him forward hard and to lay my whip down his side even harder. (I rarely ever hit a horse but if I do then they are going to feel it.) 

Razz was shocked as I turned him in a circle at the canter booting him hard. I cantered him back under the ramp circling around and around until he was well and truly puffed. 

On stopping him I was told, "Oh he always does that, Ron (her husband) fell off him and broke his arm."
Thanks for the warning D. 

The thing that surprised me most was how ill mannered all these horses were. There were always excuses for why but non washed with me. 

Not long after starting with D. she was injured and couldn't ride so I was riding both horses. She wanted to Point to Point Razz and to do that a horse needs to be very fit. Razz wasn't so imset about getting him that way. The nearest hill was about two miles away and I would ride him there and canter him up the long pull to the top of the cliffs then ride him a different way home so he was out for a couple of hours. 

I was t allowed to rode either horse out the field on a Tuesday because the refuse cart was in the town and it frightened the horses. Challenge on. I played chase the dustcart every Tuesday until both horse would stand with their noses in the back of the wagon. 

To Pont to Point Razz had to go out Hunting eight times that season. No problems, I was looking forward to it. How wrong I was! That horse was a sandwich short of a picnic. He was big, 17 hands and solid. First day out we were riding along an old railway line embankment. There were no longer any tracks there and either side was tidal marshland. Hounds were working a copse on the other side of the marsh. We started to walk along parallel to them when Razz suddenly turned staring into the distance a d walked off the embankment nearly falling down the steep slope into the bog. I had to keep him moving tomget to solid land which, by the grace of God, we made. 

Another time we were having a boring day. Hounds had run into a vale amd we were stood in a field watching as they cast around. When they picked up the scent the Field Master led the riders back down a track towards the road. 

One of the other riders asked me if my horse could jump. I said he could amd was asked to give him a lead over some rails on the side of a copse. I cantered into them thinking, "These are way bigger hands most Hunt jumps!" Imwasmt worried about the height just surprised that they were well over 4'
Razz jumped fine and then suddenly in mid air he realised the other horses were going a different way and froze. Foot followers all said that he never. Put his front legs out to land but just went down in a heap. I fell to the sore unfortunately onto the remains of some thorns that had been cleared. 
As Razz got to his feet pulling me up, so the other rider slammed into me sending me flying again. 

I got to my feet and was standing bent at the waist trying to get my breath back when another rode came over the rails. She had seen me fall and must have seen me standing there but she to slammed into me. 

I was winded, brushed and cut from the thorn stems. I felt as if I had been run over by a roller.

After a few moment regaining my breath to something like normal, I remounted and we proceeded to go around a cross country course in the woods. 

Another time we were coming down the steepmsode of downland following a track cattle had made. It was narrow but perfectly safe. We were only walking when Razz saw something in the distance and did his head turn and walked off the track landing on his side and sliding down the hill. I was sat sideways on him as he slipped down. When he hit the tractor track at the bottom I was quick to get my right leg over his neck so I was back in the saddle. 

I have never ridden a horse that was so regardless of his own safety!


----------



## Foxhunter

* Many things were going on at this time, I was doing a lot of reaching and riding other people's horses. 

I was out hunting one day on Tom. The Meet was at the Hunt Treasurer's home in a very poor hunting area. David asked me to take Tom out and my sister was riding her boss's horse CB. There was nothing much going on, hounds were crashing through forestry and although here were foxes, nothing much was happening. 

The liveliest part of the day was that a bus load of anti's had turned up. They were blowing horns, hollering and doing all they could to stop Hounds which included spraying pepper into their faces. 

Sis and I decided that we needed to pee so went off to a quiet spot and relieved ourselves. We were going a good clip across a field to catch up. There was an anti stood mid field. Sis amd I decided to give him a fright and riding straight at him stirrup to stirrup. 

This lad stood facing us, we had no intention of running him down but I suddenly thought "****, Tom doesn't turn left very well!" At the same time my sister was thinking, "****, CB doesn't turn right very well!" 

We had no worries, as we bore down on this lad so he lifted his hands and clapped his hands right at the horses, both of which decided that they could turn in their least favourite direction.! 
We were both very impressed and turned to ride back to him. We were near to him when a fox broke away from the trees. With that he lifted the horn to his lips amd was blowing Hounds to the line. I was hollering and soon Hounds were on the line. The fox just did a loop around the field and was back in the trees. 

I immediately questioned the lad about what he had done. Turns out he was a university student, the Antis paid £30 a day to protest hunting. His father was a Huntsman for a hunt in the midlands amd he had hunted all,his life. He was in it for the money and unbeknownst to the antis he was actually assisting the huntsmen.


----------



## Foxhunter

* Daryl was someone I had known from early riding days. She had always owned lovely horses and my sister had worked for her for a few years. 

She had a wonderful set up, a yard of eight or ten loose boxes, a barn and more acreage than she needed. The only thing against this place was the riding out was lousy. Surrounded by busy roads and having to go along them to get onto bridlepaths. 

She always worked on her own and had recently bought three new horses, from big sales of potential competition horses. She had a 2 & 3 year old unbroken and a backed 4 year old as well as a couple of older competition horses. 

She asked me if I could ride out with her as the 4 year old was bad in traffic. I agreed to help her out. I arrived and as I walked towards the stable so she saw I was carrying my crash cap rather than my hunting cap. She laughed and told me that she thought I would ride her older horse and her the youngster but was thrilled I would take on Flint. 

This was a lovely 16.2 best part TB gelding. Good looking with equal conformation but a bit wild eyed. He was overly spooky and nervy and I could see why she didn't want to ride him out alone. 

We rode together every day, Flint gained confidence every day. One day when he was a bit hyper I stood him in a friend's gateway whilst traffics, having to go slow because of major road works, went past. There were also pneumatic drills going, dumper trucks and diggers working right in front of him. It took a while before he accepted that we were there for the duration! In the end he wasn't taking any notice of anything and so I rode him up and down by all the works with no reaction at all. 

He was getting really good with the heavy vehicles on their way to the tip. I was even able to ride him on the outsode of the other horse. This imwasmdoing when a big lorry carrying a load of scrap came fast towards us. I waved him down and the driver just accelerated. 
Flint kept sodeways, hot the bank depositing me on top of the hedge. I held onto the reins and give him his due, he soon stopped. I remounted and we rode to the scrap yard where the driver got short shift of my tongue. I got his registration plate number and had him fined for reckless driving. 

I wondered how Flint would be after this but he was fine. My butt was covered with thorns and it was days before I got them all out! 

Daryl had the brilliant idea of doing one of the distance rides on a Sunday. I didn't really want to but she persuaded me. I was on Flint and she was on her mare. The weather was awful, very windy and horizontal rain. I donned my big waterproof riding coat. The start was on a steep hill. We parked up and unloaded the horses and mounted from the ramp. The moment my leg was over Flint's back and my butt barely in the saddle, he took off leaping sideways down the hill bucking every now and then. I realised it was the flaps of my coat upsetting him. Daryl suggested I took it off I refused saying that by the time he had done the ride he would be fine with it! 

Aa we were last minute entries we were last to leave the start. They we're sending out groups at three minute intervals. By the time we had gone a couple of miles we had overtaken several groups. It wasn't a race but we were on fit horses, and I wasn't going to hang around in the weather.

Halfway point we were served soup and hotdogs, it was meant to be a 30 minute compulsory stop. These two horses were fully clipped amd didn't need to be hanging around so, when the first group left (three lads all my pupils) we left too. 

As we approached the bottom of the hill leading Tom the finish, Wayne suggested that we went on a bit and jumped around a cross country course. Sounded like fun so he led the way! We got back to the finish and no one was there so we put the horses back into the horsebox and waited for the officials to appear to get our rosettes. 

I was correct, Flint didn't give a hoot about my coat flapping!


----------



## Foxhunter

* Back to the riding school. 


It was a Pony Club Meet and nearly all of the liveries were going. I had two 8year old girls who wanted to go. One was Sharon on Tony and the other my cousin Lindsey on her pony Pepsi. 

I said I would take them on lead reins. I decided to rode a lovely dun mare, Myth, who was very laid back. 

We all hacked the four miles to the Meet. I stayed at the back because of the lead reins and my laid back mount decided that this was all very exciting and she wanted to be up the front, the two ponies were in full agreement so I was having my arms pulled out of their sockets! 

There was a hunt jump into plough, it was bigger than with of the girls had jumped before but they were game so we went into it together, all jumped in a perfect trio, it was the turning on landing that proved a problem! 

At these PC Meets the Master assigns a young competent rider to ride alongside the Huntsman and whips, a great honour for them. One of theses lads, known as Bozzy, was riding his Highland pony which was not liking the faster paces she was having to go. Bozzy got separated from the whip he was meant to be with. As I rode across the field I said, "Bozzy, my arms are killing me! "
He replied with, "My legs are killing me!" 
"OK, when they next check, I'll swap with you. " 
We caught up with the Field and I looked around for Bozzy but he was still trying to catch up with the whip. I sent one of my orders to bring him back. 
Bozzy was astounded that I would swap horses with him. Personally I was relieved to do so. 

Bozzy rode off having no trouble catching up with the whip and I was so happy to just plod along on his pony. 

By around 2.30 the girls had been out long enough. There wasn't much scent and we had a long hack home so we left. A couple of others came with me the others stayed a bit longer. 

I sent a message to Bozzy that his mare would be at the riding school and I would trailer her back in the morning. I later got a call saying that it was to dark for him to hack Myth back so he would keep her at his place overnight. 

I trailered his mare back in the morning, I was quite expecting Myth to be a bit dirty as Bozzy, along with most young teen boys, wasn't much interested in much more than making a horse comfortable and certainly that did not include tack cleaning. 

Not at all, Myth was groomed to perfection, her tack was cleaned and Bozzy's mother couldn't believe that he did it all without being told. 

He had had a brilliant day, stayed out until they packed up and, he had jumped many fences that the other lads with the Hunt staff had refused at. The highlight had been when the whips horse refused a big open ditch and he had sailed on over it. When the whips horse was still refusing to jump the ditch, Bozzy jumped back to give him a lead. 

Now a very successful farmer with grown children of his own, he still remembers that hunt as the best ever.


----------



## Foxhunter

Many things were happening, Phil the farrier was building an indoor arena. He had looked at several on the mainland and, as I had probably worked in more indoor arenas than most asked what I thought of the plans. 
Answer was that I didn't! 

The original plans had the viewing gallery on the short side, I suggested it went on the long side which would allow for a bar and caffeterina to be built on a built up area so they were above the arena floor level. 
There was also a viewing area with seats, in front to the cafeteria and bar. There was also a small indoor collecting ring and it all joined with the outdoor arena. 

Building it was hampered with some very wet weather. As the ground was on clay the footing for the uprights had to be extra deep. The planning control officers were as difficult as they could be and hampered more than helped. 

Possibly one of the funniest was when there was an enormous hole dug on one side, this was to hold an old milk container from a lorry, to collect rain water from the roof which could be used to dampen the arena surface. When the most awkward planning officer saw it it immediately asked what it was for. 
I never thought about it but just retorted, "For burying planning officers in!" 
He stomped off in a huff but never enquirer again. 

The most ridiculous thing was that from the ground level there were steps up to the cafe level these were wide, about 12 feet, and I suggested that these be narrowed down an a ramp for wheelchair access be put in. 
No, to wasn't allowed as the angle would be to steep. To get the correct angle meant the ramp would have to start at the door and run through the cafe into the bar. 

Finally all was done to the building standards approval. The chief official turned to me and said, "Now, if you want to put a ramp in you can. We cannot stop you." 

Prior to things being finished Phil had a show organised. As the delays had been great nothing was ready. The cafe area was just a slab of concrete, no seating, not even a surface on the floor. The construction workers were finishing the roof as the surface was being laid. 

The show went well bar the fact that the sand surface was deep and moved a lot. I had built the courses throughout the day and when picking up poles that had fallen I was walking and shuffling the surface back into the hoof prints. 

I was exhausted when I got home and fell into bed. That night I woke having had a terrible dream of being run over by a train and it had amputated both my legs. I awoke with a start to find tha both my legs were rigid with severe cramp! 

Not long after this show Phil held a grand opening. He invited people with their horses that had done well competing on the mainland. It was surprising as to how many there were. 

D. was asked to bring along Navan, he old horse. Navan had done exceedingly well showing and show jumping, having been champion hunter at the Horse of the Year Show. She was against bringing him as he was a bit sway backed, in full winter coat and suffering some arthritic problems. 
I persuaded her otherwise so she finally agreed to bring the old man along but said she would only walk him and he would wear a quarter sheet. 

When Navan came into the arena and people clapped, his head came up, he started to jog and was really on his toes. I announced all that he had done in his illustrious career as D. walked him around. On reaching the end of the script I said, "D. there are many people here who are thinking that the show standard must have been lower back then! Just show why Navan was such a fantastic horse and give him a trot!"

As D. walked past the judges box where I was, she called me a very rude name but she did trot him up and boy, Navan was a four year old, all hos stiffness was totally forgotten and he showed hos very best trot, almost in slow motion he threw his legs out and had that moment of suspension, in all my years with horses I have never seen a horse move as Navan did. 
D. trotted him up the long side and then walked but changed the rein across the diagonal and ran again this time a bit faster to show his extension. As they came to the corner Navan put in an enormous buck and fart just to show off. 

Later D. Crying said, "If he died tonight, I would be so pleased he had gone out with happy memories."


----------



## Knave

I must be quite the girl today, but that story made me tear up a bit. I loved it.


----------



## Foxhunter

Going back.

My parents were no drinkers, if Dad went to the pub it was to play cards and a pint of beer would last him all evening. The only time he ever drank indoors was if he had a heavy cold and would have a whisky and milk. That was a rare occasion! 

However, Christmas morning Dad would go out to friends and family delivering gifts. Being the festive season he would come home rather tiddly from not wishing to offend and downing drinks. 

Two things happened this particular Christmas Day. 

Dad returned home the worse for wear, personally I thought it was worse for whisky but he wouldn't have it. We were laughing at his slurring of words and erratic method of walking. I made the remark "Dad is really ****ed!" With that Mum grabbed my arm, pulled it out straight and slapped me saying, "You (slap) know (slap) how I (slap) hate (slap) that (slap) word! (slap)" 


I was much bigger than Mum and certainly many times stronger but my automatic reaction was to cry. This stemmed from when I was little and was naughty, of you didn't cry you usually got another one! 


Dad decided to come to the stables that afternoon, he was feeling pretty rough and thought that the fresh air might help his head. My sister came with us amd whilst she started on the stabled horses, I went with the Lamd Rover to feed the field horses their hay. Dad came with me. 
I had several bales in the back with the strings cut and removed. 
The horses were waiting by the bottom gate so I drove up the lane and entered through the top gate. The moment they saw me in the field the herd came galloping to get the hay. Dad was in the back throwing out the packs or so I thought.
I couldn't understand why several horses were still charging alonsode the Lamd Rover and until I had drive. Half the large circle did I realise Dad had fallen out the back amd was sat on several packs of hay with three or four horses trying to eat it from under him. 


That sobered him up somewhat!


----------



## Foxhunter

Once Phil had built the indoor arena I was busy there doing most of the course building. Shows were held most of the year round. 

One show was pure showing no show jumping and as usual I was generally helping. 

Friend Daryl had brought along one of her young horses, a lovely dark bay horse, Haddington. He was entered in the Show Hunter class. This was his first time at a show. 

_Showing in the UK is very different to the US as the horses have to be unsaddled and run up in hand before the judge and is also ridden by the judge)_

Hud was very green in the outdoor ring, he was wary of the other horses and tried to keep away from them but generally behaved well. In the line up he was standing third. 
Daryl had asked me to help her with removing the saddle and tacking up again which I was happy to do. 

The running up was fine. The tall judge started to rode the horses. First horse decided to nap at the gate, he sorted it out. The second horse was no better and gave the judge a terrible ride. He then was legged up onto Hud. Daryl had hold of his rein. The moment the judge put his leg on asking the horse to move, so Hud freaked and started to buck. The judge immediately dismounted and made the comment that he wasn't there to train horses. 
Daryl wasn't sure whether to leave the arena or not. I told her to stay in as it was experience for Hud. 

I realised what the problem was, Daryl wasn't very tall and Hud, never having been ridden by anyone else, wasn't use to long legs on his side. 

Whilst Daryl got her mare ready for her class, I mounted Hud and took him in the outdoor arena, itmwas nearly lunchtime so most people were either in their rings showing or, having lunch. The couple of horses that were in there kept out of his way. 

Hud was very tense with my legs wrapped around his sides but soon got use to them. Daryl always did everything correctly but npshe never did what I called 'nag' them, slap them on their sides, necks and quarters and move roughly in the saddle. I was doing all this with Hud and soon several people were watching and laughing at his antics. 
Daryl, having finished her class (and winning it) brought filly into the arena and started riding her all around Hud. Poor Hud freaked when she came past us from behind although he did nothing more than tense and scuttle forward. 
In the end he was accepting it more. I was walking him on the outside track and Darylmwas cantering towards me. 

I knew she was going to leg yield off the track, Darryl knew she was going to leg yield off the track and the mare knew what was going to happen.

Hud didn't! He held his nerve until she was about to leg yield and then freaked. He leapt to the right and took off bucking down the arena heading straight to the 5' rails. I was laughing and booting him forward. His eyes locked on the rails and I held him gather to try and jump them. I grabbed my rein and hauled him to the left. 

By the time I finished Hud wasn't taking any notice of the other horses bombing past him in either direction. 

His was entered in another class with the same judge. This time he behaved beautifully and won. 

Daryl had two horses in the Championship and asked me to ride Hud. I did and he won the Championship. The judge congratulated me on the ride he had had on Hud in his class. He then said, "What would you have done if he had jumped the rails?" 

I laughed and said " sell him to Harvey Smith! " (a top show jumper) 

Turns out that he had been watching from the bar window as he had his lunch.


----------



## Foxhunter

Phil had gone back to his parents and returned with a horsebox load of horses and ponies to sell. One of these was a bay horse around 16 hands. He was a useful type, strong although not the best conformation. 

Phil had bought him last to make up a load, he had seen the horse being ridden a few days before. The dealer he bought him from warned him not to just jump on the horse. A big red flag but, Phil wasn't one to shirk away. 

Well, Phil tried to rode this horse two or three times amd ere was no way he could stay on him. Another friend also gave it a go and also ended up injured. 

First time I saw Cob as he became known, he was fiend in a stall in the farrier shed. I went to his head and immediately the horse held his breath and then hyper ventilated. He was a wreck. 

Cob stayed in the farrier area for a good two weeks. He got use to strangers going to him, horses coming and going and learned to relax. This didn't filter through to him being ridden though. 

Phil took an old saddle amd welded a cross to the stirrup bars. A pair of old welly boots were filled with concrete. The day came to 'dress' cob. He was lunged and then blindfolded. He didn't object to the saddle but the rider. The cross was dressed with a jacket and gloves at the end of the sleeves and a hat fixed to the top of the cross. Boots fixed into the stirrups his dummy rider was fit to go. 

There was also a breast plate and crupper fixed to the saddle. 

Cob stood well for the saddling in the arena and then let loose blindfold removed. 

I have never seen a horse buck as hard for so long as that horse did. He was heaving when he stopped amd then the wind would blow and something would flap and off he went again. He stayed in the arena for two or three days until he wasn't bothering about his tack and, we could catch him. 

Unfortunately he was quite girth sore at the end of it all so, he was turned out on the hills and left for around six weeks. On his return he wasn't bothered about his saddle and dummy rider, he remained relaxed. Naturally Phil was dubious about riding him as he didn't want to get injured again. 

It was the night of the Hunt Ball, early hours of the morning and we all arrived back at Phil's. Instead of going into the house Phil decided Tom rode Cob. It was quite a sight to see Phil, in his dinner suit and bow tie, on Cob! 

Cob had several hiccups in his training, he wasn't beyond exploding every now and then but he and Phil had a great season Hunting. I am sure he was the longest Phil ever kept a horse. Not because he couldn't sell him but because he enjoyed him so much.


----------



## Foxhunter

Another long stay Horse Phil had was a TB X by the name of Reaper. This horse was frightened by his own shadow and some time was taken over actually riding him. 

He hadn't been ridden for long when Phil asked me if I would ride him out with Mary, his groom. Mary had him tacked up and I pulled him out to mount. Not knowing me at all he immediately went into reverse, I did nothing except hold my reins as if I was mounting him and my stirrup in the other hand and let him go backwards. 

We went across the yard past the rows of stables, into the outdoor arena out at the top into the indoor arena and across that until his butt was against the far corner walls. I let him stand for a minute or two and did nothing other than holding the reins and stirrup. In waiting he suddenly gave a big sigh and relaxed. I mounted him from the ground and he rode out the arena and onto the tracks with no problems at all. 

Later Phil wanted to hunt him but he wasn't clipped and having struggled to get weight on him they didn't want to sweat it off on one ride. He asked me to get as much hair off as I could. 

Mary had him in a stable amd was holding him. I started the clippers and he wasn't sure. I gave him a bite of carrot, put my hand flat on his shoulder and the clippers on top of it. He was a bit worried but didn't do anything more than tense slightly and then relax. That horse was an angel, he just stood eating his hay, the odd bite of carrot went down well and I soon had him with a hunter clip. I wasn't to worried about leaving his head but I switched to the little clippers and continued. My biggest problem was having him hold his head up so I could do under his jaw. He almost went to sleep. 

Phil came back from shoeing and asked if I had had a go at clipping him. I said I had and made a face and said, "Well, it's not what you expected!" 

Phil drank his coffee amd went out to have a look. He really couldn't believe what he saw! I will,say it was a surprise to all of us that he had just accepted it all. 

......... .....................

Phil built a BMX track next to the indoor arena. Itmwas a proper track although just dirt. The banks were a bit rough and one of the lads brought along his ATV and was riding it around flattening the sides. It looked like fun and I asked if I could have a go. 
As I sat in the ATV I was told it didn't have any dif. I hadn't a clue what that meant and set off from the track start. 
I went down the slope around a corner, over three ditches, all fairly easily. 
The next obstacle was a table top, I went up it fine, of a bit fast, never touched hthe far side and landed with a jolt. Either then or going over the following three bumps, the throttle jammed open and I was being bolted with. I tried to make the next corner, a sharp left hander but didn't make it. I went upmthe bank amd over the other side. This was rough ground with boulders sticking out. Somehow I made it into the field stool going flat out. I turned onto a circle but unlike a horse, it never slowed when the circles got smaller. 

Above the roar of the engine I could hear them all laughing. In the end I managed to yank the throttle cable which disconnected it and we stopped. 

Horses are safer!


----------



## Foxhunter

Phil and Pam had two sons, Simon was about five and Mathew three. They were chalk and cheese. Simon needed amusing whereas Matt was happy playing on his own preferably outside where he would gater pieces of woos and bale twine and 'build daddy some new calf pens.' 

He wasn't the slightest interested in riding but he was very sharp for his age and would hear things like horses names and wouldmask where such and such a horse had gone. 

Phil's work truck needed taxing and Pam had gone to do it but couldn't because it needed a new test certificate. Phil called the garage and they said they would do it for him late afternoon. Phil had parked the truck in its usual spot, head on to the side of the tack shop. I was watching the boys so Phil could take the truck to the garage and Pam could pick him up. Only a few minutes. 

No sooner had they arrived back the phone rang and it wasn't the garage to say they couldn't test the truck as it had no headlights. Phil couldn't believe it as he had driven it the night before. He got into the car and went back to the garage tomsee for himself and, sure enough both headlights were devoid of glass and needed to be replaced. 

He came back and went to where it had been parked and sure enough there were two little piles of glass. As it was impossible for anything to have hit the front it was obvious that it was deliberate damage. 

He wasn't to pleased about the incident and came indoors and straight to where the boys were playing in the living room. 
"Who broke the glass in my truck?" 
Matt looked up from his position on the floor and with wide open eyes (he had beautiful big eyes with the longest blonde eyelashes) and said, "I did dad. I was hammering and I hammered one and it made a lovely pop so I hammered the other."

There were three or four of us sat in the kitchen and it was all we could do not to laugh loudly. 

Much to our surprise Phil just told him he was very naughty and it was going to cost lots of pennies to get new glass and left it at that. As he said, the child had been honest and owned up if he made to much of a fuss over it he would never own up again.


----------



## knightrider

I love these stories. They are just great. You never seem to run out of fascinating stories! These later ones are just as interesting as your earlier ones.


----------



## Foxhunter

Thank you! 

Phil bought a 2 year old Welsh Cob colt out of Wales. He took him straight to some hill grazing land to let him grow. 

The colt was in. Small horsebox with a side ramp. Phil dropped the ramp whereby the colt scrambled over the partition, luckily his tie rope broke, rolled down the ramp whereby he jumped the gate into the field amd was gone! He joined the her department of geldings and stayed there for quite some time. 

He came in and was broken to ride and drive, and stood at stud. 

Only 14.1 he was like a bull in a china shop when it came to covering mares. Phil amd I would be leading him yet we had great problems with holding him. 

A mare had come in the previous year to be put in flat to the TB stud Phil had. She hadn't caught so, after trying a couple of times that spring it was decided to cover her with the cob. That evening going to cover the mare, he was worse than ever, he was so strong. Phil decided that he would leave him with this mare. 

Both seemed to like the idea. 

In the morning the colt was exhausted, he had visibly lost weight, he looked like he had been galloped for twenty miles non stop! The mare was backing into him trying to persuade him to do it again! 

After that the colt was way more polite towards the mare's. 


Another incident with the TB stallion was interesting. Phil's father was staying at the time. A mare who had received a leg injury Point To Pointing, was there to be put in foal. Everything was done and she was well in heat but the moment the horse went to cover her she was impossible. She kicked, she reared, she threw herself on the ground.

Mary and I had been holding her and had great problems. The stud was being really good with her but after many attempts even he was beginning to get frustrated. 

After trying yet again Phil's dad opened up the hay shed door. Mary and I went on top of the hay and were well above the mare. We held her head high and she was up against the hay. When she was still being impossible, Phil's dad ordered Phil to let the stud loose. Phil did. The horse stood alongside her, teasing her and being the gentleman. The mare was showing strongly but as soon as he went to mount she fought hard. 

The stud tried twice and the third time he turned his back to her and double barrelled her in the ribs twice. He then went back to teasing her, next attempt she was fine. 

After that she was never a problem.


----------



## Foxhunter

The Hunt decided to have a cross country relay race. Four riders each to take a section. 

I didn't fancy doing it but was persuaded to by Phil and Pam and the fourth team member, Sandy who was well into long distance riding with her Hackney x Arab. This was in April. 

Each point was around 10 miles so you needed a fit horse. It also took some organisation to get each horse it start and two vehicles were needed. 

Sandy took the first leg. We were e last team to start. Each team went at 5 minute intervals. There were around ten teams. We had studied the maps working out the best routs. Sandy had several options but all involved a lot of hill work amd many gates. I thought that it would be better if she followed the road as for majority of the way it had a wide grass verge. Once at the end of the road she could turn off and take bridle paths which would bring her straight to the change point where I would be waiting. 

I organised the children I taught in the area to be on the bridle path where there were several gates and to do them for Sandy. 

Sandy left and I stood around chatting and then left with Tom in the horsebox. I was flabbergasted to see Sandy nearly at the end of the road, standing easily in her stirrups cantering along, Jubilee on a loose rein head down eating up the ground each stride. We waved and I hurried to get to the change over. 

I was tacked up and mounted when the first horse arrived. This was from the first team to leave amd the farm we were changing over was her parents. I was disgusted at the state of her horse, it was really exhausted, White with sweat and heaving heavily. 

Sandy came in next and I left. I had probably the hardest leg to cover, roads for a mile up one lhill, then a short piece of road before climbing again. I knew my route well. There were only a couple of gates I wouldn't jump and had my pupils stationed there. 

Tom was great, he was very fit and loved to jump so we cleared everything with ease. He wasn't really blowing hard when I changed over to Pam who had to rode part of the route I had. Again the children were waiting to open the gates. She rode to the Hunt Kennels where she passed to Phil riding Cob. 
Phil hadn't a clue where he was going. Don't think he had been in the Boy Scouts to learn to map read! He saw Jack, the last member for the team that left first and jut followed him. When he lost sight of Jack going into some forestry he decided to take the gate to the left of the field and jumped it. Only to find some picnickers the other side! 

Phil tried to catch Jack but couldn't. What he didn't realise was that they had had a 50 minute start on us so we had won easily. 

The prize was a dinner for eight. That was a great meal and a good evening all round. 

All out horses were fine the next day. The exhausted horse ended up with blowing both tendons he had been ridden so hard. 

Best part was that the girl's mother was always telling off children for not doing something correctly or the way they were turned out. Most of these were children who knew no better and needed advice not a rollicking. 

I didn't let her live it down for a long time. 
.


----------



## Foxhunter

Another team event was at a Country Fair. Teams of three, hunting shooting and fishing. Somehow I was coerced into a team with the father of three of my pupils and a long time friend. We had to all do the three phases. 

Margaret was a keen shooter, obviously me the riding and David was the fisherman. 

David was well over 6' and could barely trot rise on a horse, neither Margaret nor I had never gone fly fishing and this was target fishing, I had been shooting but never clay shooting. 

A friend lent me her cob, Jim. I competed on him for her and he never refused so I thought he would be ideal for the three of us. 

Out first event was shooting. Margaret was taking the overhead, me the right to left and David, being left handed, left to right. David and I had been to my farriers for shooting practise and he had lent us a clay trap and one of his shotguns. The stock of this was short for me and I was bruised badly on my shoulder.
Margret went for her practise ten shots. She went to the right to left stand and shot ten - nine hits. The man overseeing this post then said she had to shoot from there for her score so that left me with the overhead. 
The sun was out and being midday right overhead. There were trees so it went from being blinded to not being able to see the caly. My farrier was overseeing this stand. I showed him my bruised shoulder and he called to a friend asking if I could borrow his rubber sleeve. The man came over bringing the sleeve which was on his gun. I was told to use his gun. 

I know very little about guns but the moment I had that one in my hand it felt totally different to anything I had shot with before (or since!)

So all set up I called out "Pull" the trap strand and I never even saw the clay. Ten shots, ten misses. It was hopeless I just got blinded by the sun. So, with my ten score shots I called out "Pull" and just fired straight up. I never saw the clay but I did hit it. I scored eight which was more than I expected. I commented the Bob (farrier) how good the gun felt it was like comparing a jeep to a Rolls Royse. I was told that it was a Purdy, one of the elite sporting guns. 
David hit all ten. 

The target fishing was hysterical. The wind had got up and I scored quite well but only because it was blown off the target I was aiming for and landed on another several yards away. Margaret was the same. David siding have the luck and had the lowest score. 

With the riding it was all natural rustic fences in the arena. There were railway sleepers forming a bridge which you had to dismount and lead your horse over and a narrow gate which had to be opened and closed. 

I went first. For some reason Jim decided he didn't like the bridge and tried to go round it, ditto with the gate - what was the point of having to open and close it when you could just go round it? 

He was much better with Margaret and by the time it was David's turn he knew the course and just carted David around,. 

We were wandering around the stall when the results were called out and much to our shock we had actually won the event. 

I do not know how but we had. There were teams with all three members doing all three sports but we beat them all. Cause for celebration!


----------



## Foxhunter

I was working flat out and not earning much. I was way to soft in helping people out without getting paid for it. 

I had a Point to Pointer to qualify for old friends of mine. Dwarf only he wasn't, he was about 16.3! A bit of a nutter and I had to be careful riding him. He was part Pony (1/8) which should have given him some brain cells but he hadn't many. He would try and run away with me if he just fancied doing so. 
Riding to open a gate I would ride parallel to the gate but he would swing around and try to jump it. Out hunting I would come to a hill am deathly gallop him up it. This would give me some breathing room whilst he recovered his breath but he just got fitter and fitter! After he was qualified he went back to said friends on the mainland and actually won a couple of races with their son riding. 

Sue and Terry (friends) asked me if I would go an House/horse and dog sit whilst they went away. I agreed and made arrangements to be away for the two weeks. It would be a good break for me too as they only had a pony that was turned out and Dwarf who was standing in as he had a leg injury. 

This was the start of a very new chapter on my life.


----------



## Foxhunter

The village where I was staying had all been part of a large estate at one time years prior. Where my friend lived was the old stable yard. Beautiful old stables some internal boxes and others outside. 

The home was from converted stables. All surrounded by a tall brick wall. Across the other side of the road was another tall brick wall. The village consisted of several houses, many of the thatched, no shop but did have a pub. The road running through was twisty and fairly narrow. 

There were three racehorse trainers based in the village and the next village on hadn't another big jump trainer there so, every morning there were strings or racehorses coming and going. 

I hadn't been there for more than a couple of days when I heard galloping hooves. I rushed out the gate in time to see a horse galloping around the corner, slipping on the road, going down and sliding into the wall. By the time he got to his feet had a hold of him. 

He was wearing an exercise sheet with the initials MC on the corners so I guessed he was with a woman, Mary just up the road. I led him back only to find the place empty of humans, their were all obviously out exercising. 

I untracked the horse leaving his sheet over his back and started to hose off his scrapes to see what damage had been done. Fortunately not a lot, most were superficial. I put him in a stable and as I was tugging him up so riders appeared back. The colt had bucked his rider off and taken off for home. 

They were all worried about what amary, who was exercising another horse elsewhere would say. 

Mary appeared back not long after them. She was thankful for me catching the colt and doing what I did. We put some salve on the s tapes and a couple of poultices on the deeper injuries. 

I went into the bungalow and had a coffee with Mary and she asked me if I could give her a hand with another colt she was breaking. I agreed to come back later in the morning which I did. 

Thismwas a 2 year old colt that was being difficult. Mary had broken his full brother the year before and had problems, thismcolt was even more difficult. He had been lunged and long reined out and about, he accepted the tack but the moment she went to mount him he freaked. 

Mary wanted to get on in in the stable which I was very much against but she was confident it was the way to go. I went to leg her up and the moment she started to rise higher than normal the colt freaked and tried galloping around the stable. I just kept liegging her up and down until he finally stopped freaking. Mary leant over him and then sat on him. He was much better than either of us anticipated. 

I was told to open the door and Mary would ride him out, I asked if she wanted to be lead which was quickly refused. The colt stepped out the stable and she asked for me to clip,the lunge back on. 

I led her towards the gate, on reaching the end stable the colt threw a wobbly and started to buck and buck hard. I was holding hos head up but he had turned tomface the wall and was squashing me against the wall, all the time bucking.
"Mind you head!" I yelled to Mary as she was under the over hang of the roof.
"Never mind my bloody head you keep a hold on his!" 

Eventually I was unsquashed and the colt settled. We walked up the drive and down the road to go around the village. We had gone past Sue's and by the pub Mary said to try a trot. The colt didn't a couple of trot strides and then I was looking at his belly when he buck d so high he was above me. 
When he came down his feet slipped and he went down on his right side. Mary landed heavily but clear. Before the colt realised I had a rope around his back leg and a foot on his head and I was whacking him with the lunge, itmwasnt hurting him but it was frightening him. 

I told him in my best 'she who must be obeyed' voice I wasn't taking his nonsense. 
Mary was on her feet and I asked her if she was OK to get back on. She said she was. 

"Ok, when I let him up I'll leg younstraight up and we will immediately trot." 

I let the colt up, legged Mary straight up and as soon as her feet were innthe pedals we trotted down the road. That colt never thought about bucking! 

Further on I unclipped the line and Mary rode him on ahead even having a canter without any problems. 

We worked together with the colt without any further troubles. He was way more relaxed and seemed to like going out. 

It was only a couple of days after this that Mary asked if I would ride out each morning and think about working for her. 

She ran a yard for horses out of (race) training. This could be anything from breaking to preparing horses for the sales, getting horses fit, dealing with injuries and being a place where trainers who were full, could send horses to be prepared for races. 

Mary had done a lot of Poin to Pointing but had hung up her boots a couple of years prior. 

I decided to give it a go.


----------



## Foxhunter

I went back home and sorted things out. I brought my two youngsters I had bred with me packed my bags and returned to work for Mary. 

Her staff were all fairly young. Barry had worked there for about three or four years, there was a girl who I will say, I disliked on meeting her. Other girls came in to ride out before school. 

Mary worked hard, she did all the mucking out before anyone arrived. Considering there were eighteen stables that was some work to do before 7 a.m. when riding started. 
Usually the others would rode out on whatever horses needed to go out and she and I would work the Point to Pointers. There was also her partner, again someone I wasn't over keen on when first meeting him. He would also ride out with Mary and I. 

It wasn't long after I started that the three of us had ridden out and returned before the others. It was raining hard. The girl I didn't like went to lead. Ahorse into the stable with the door only half open. The horse could well have seriously damaged its hip. Mary and I saw it at the same time and both of us called out a warning. With that the girl gave a mouthful of abuse and went to storm off. 

Oh boy, did Mary loose it! She went ballistic. The girl left in a hurry. 

Afterwards Barry told me that it wasn't unusual for Mary to fly off the handle like that and most staff didn't stay. I will say I was a bit shocked at the way Mary had reacted as she had always been polite and amiable before. 

It was Easter and the girls were on holiday from school. Barry had left deciding to move to the West Country. There weren't so many horses in as the yearlings in for breaking had gone tomrace trainers, the jumping season was nearly over and things eased off through April/May. 

Glen, Mary's boyfriend worked every day. I had learned that he had been living with another woman who owned a riding school in the next village. He had started to ride out for Mary and just moved in. The woman had a young child who looked on Geln as a father. The natural father of the child had been a lot, lot older than her and had died leaving her quite a lot of money. She had bought the stables a couple of years prior. 

Two of the girls who rode out, Sarah and Lesley, had ridden at the riding school and told me that Glen had left without any warning. 

One night I was awoken by Mary yelling and screaming. Before I knew what was happening she had opened the front door and was throwing all Glen's stuff out. He made a phone call and next thing was his ex arrived to pick him up. They loaded the car and disappeared into the night. 
Turns out that Glenn had met the ex that evening and they had chatted. Mary had asked if he still had feeling s for her and he had said he had! That was it. 

I have never seen anyone move as fast as Mary did throwing his gear out the door - this included a couple of large sewing machines. 

All was fine for a good month or more and then Glenn started coming around. I warned Mary not to take him back but she decided to and he moved back in. 

Mary decided to go visit a friend of hers and stay for a few days. She hadn't had a break for at least three years but she felt happy I wpuld cope. 

I was giving lessons to some local children. There was a large playing field the other side of the village where there was a show jumping set. I had lessons booked that evening. Glen came in from work, he had been using Mary's van. I was pleased he was back and said that I would go get a take away for supper when the lesson finished. He didn't want me to take the van (my car had given upmthe ghost) but I insisted. 

I took the lesson, went into town and picked up a meal and returned. The moment I opened the door I knew something was wrong. I couldn't quite see exactly what. There was no sign of Glenn. I called the pub and they said he'd been in earlier but had left a while ago. 

I then realised that none of hosnthings were there. The sewing machine was gone from the hall, I looked in the wardrobe in their bedroom and none of his clothes were there. He had done a runner. No note or phone call just gone. 

The next day I went into town to do some shopping. Mary was returning that afternoon. I will never forget walking into the paper shop and hearing a voice screaming out from across the square, "Where the f has he gone?" I recognised w voice as Mary's and chose to ignore it. I was about to pay for the magazine when she burst into the shop swearing like a trooper asking about Glenn. I told her to calm down and basically ignored her. 
We got back and she calmed down. She wasn't really worried he had left but was angry at the way he had done it. 

I didn't blame her.


----------



## Foxhunter

As things slackened off and there weren't so many horses to ride out it wasn't quite as hectic. The girls were on school break and at the stables all day. A new boy, Chris, hadnstarted. He was waiting to go to Jockey School in the September. 

Mary had been in a foul mood all day. She had had a go at Sam first thing, then Sarah mid morning and then Lesley. All for no real reason. I had ridden out two lots earlier and was returning on a horse that was in for us to get fit. He wasn't sound, most of the time he was but every now and then he would go short. I had spoken to Mary about it and she told me to keep going with him, he'd either get better or worse. When the vet had seen him he was sound. 

As I rode him into the yard so he went short. Mary was in the feed room getting ready to do lunchtime feeds and she screamed at me that the horse was lame. I didn't say anything other than, "I told you he wasn't right." 
She had a right Royal go at me to which I didn't respond. Later indoors I told her straight that she was NEVER EVER to speak to me like that again especially in front of the younger ones. 

She apologised profusely and that was it. 

That evening the girls and I were finishing off the back yard horses whilst Mary and Chris went to start feeding. We had finished and I went to see why they hadn't brought the feed trolley around. 

In the feed room Mary was having a go at Chris. He was in tears. As I walked in she turned and said, "Chris thinks I am picking on him!" 

I immediately said, "Oh Chris, how on earth can you say that? She had a go at Sarah, Sam and Leslie this morning, then me at lunch time, it's only fair she has a go at you now!"

Next thing the feed scoop was thrown against the wall and Mary stormed off across the lawn into the house. As she was about to shut the door I called out in a questioning voice "Mary?" 
She stopped and looked at me. I raised my index finger and shook it up and down whilst saying, "Temper temper!" 

I don't know how there was a pane of glass left in the windows she slammed the door so hard. 

Rather naughtily we all laughed. 

When I finished feeding and went inside it was as if nothing had happened. 

What I realised was that Mary had these temper outbursts. I could always tell when she was going to be bloody minded and knowing the buttons to press would antagonise her and we would have a right Royal row. It meant nothing to me and the good thing was that having vented on me she left the others alone. 

I would tell the others that if we were having a row to not take sides and if Mary said anything about it to just agree with her. They all did so. 

One day, when there were some new people riding out, they were in the tackroom having breakfast whilst Mary and I were rowing in the back yard. Mary stormed off with her tack and on entering the tackroom asked, "Did you hear what she said to me?" 

They admitted they had. It was a bit longer before I returned my tack and on entering I was laughing and said, "That was a good one wasn't it?" 
Sam immediately said, "Told you so!" and held out her hand. She had made a bet that I would be laughing over it. 

The great thing was that neither Mary or me held a grudge and odds were that if someone asked what we had rowed about half an hour ago, neither of us would recall the row let alone what it was about. 

It makes Mary sound awful, she wasn't. She had a lot of pressure on her shoulders with the horses and she was a worrier. It built up and it was her way of letting off steam.


----------



## Foxhunter

We worked long hours. From end of June the stables would be full, often we had several down the road at Sue's. Mary and I did all of the breaking. End of June we had horses come from the Ballsbridge Sales. (Eire) these were all bred for steeple chasing. They aged between 3 and 4 year. November it wasn't the yearlings, this would go on through the winter months often until March. 

I loved it. What I did learn was how much influence a certain sire had on a horse. We had several horses in by a Epsom Derby winning stud Troy. These were all a wonderful nature until it came time to pull their manes and then they were very unhelpful. Mary and I devised a way of doing it. She would rode them in the arena and I wouldmwalkmalongside them pulling their manes. They accepted that. I don't know where we devised such a plan but it worked well. 

When it came to breaking we had a routine. I would start the horses lungeing and when it came time to roller them I would be holding them on a lunge. Mary would put a pad on their backs and the roller on the pad from the right. She would hand me the breast strap and come around to the left. 
I would be facing the same way as the horse. Mary would do the breast plate up and then the roller. I would be watching the horse's ears and demeanour telling her what he was doing. Some horses would just accept it, others would explode. My job was to hang on and move them in a circle. I never had to worry about Mary who would be out of the arena before the horse had done a lap on the lunge. 

I worked with all the tricky ones. These might just be very nervous or just fighters. I was totally surprised and pleased when one trainer calling tomsee how a filly he had sent us was going and Mary said that he had better talk to me as I was doing all the work with her. 

Mary was never shy of giving me the credit for how a horse I had started was going. I cannot tell you how many we started together but not one ever offered to buck us off and all went with other horses and alone. 

Come August jumpers that had been turned out for the summer would come back up to do their leg work (getting them fit) before going to their trainers. These were usually easy rides and the youngsters could ride them out with no problems. One of these horses was called Special Cargo, a bay/brown gelding belonging to the Queen Mother. 

Spesh could only be described a 'a character' !! He could be a nappy so and so and wasn't adverse to seeing the devil under a blade of grass and leaping sideways. 

He also had terrible legs, he had broken down, been pinned fired, had carbon implants so needed to be very carefully cared for. He usually only had one race a year, that was the Grand Military Gold Cup run at Sandown in March so he stayed with us most of the winter. 

We had a man rode out on Saturdays, Pete. He had been in racing and left when he married and started a family but he loved horses and would ride out several lots on any day he had off. 

One day Pete, Sue and Sam all went out together. Pete was on Spesh, only the girls returned saying Pete had taken Spesh on further as he was being a prat. 
Sue said, "You know that miserable man that lives in the corner house on the estate? The one with the immaculate garden? "
"Yes," 
"Well, we were just walking along when Spesh leapt sideways up the bank, through the hedge onto his lawn."
I swore as this man was always out for anyone's blood. "What happened?" I had visions of the man killing both Pete and Spesh! 
"Well we stopped and next thing Spesh and Pete cam back through the hedge further along. The man wasn't around so we trotted off." 

Pete returned a bit later no harm to horse amd rider. A neighbour had seen what happened but as he called misery guts the neighbour from hell, he complained that Pete hadn't ridden over the lawn and through the flower beds! 

Spesh woun the Military Cup three years in succession before being retired and spending his last years at Sandringham.


----------



## Foxhunter

Come end of June we would get in several as on a dozen big horses to break, these came from the sales in Eire. Several trainers sent horses, might be one or two from one and eight plus from another. This made us extra busy as youngsters take longer than a ridden horse. 

When the horses arrived they were exhausted. They had spent two, three or four days at the sales. Then a long journey in a horsebox travelling across the Irish Sea and a long haul from the docks to wherever they were going, some spent a couple of days at the race trainers others came direct. 

The only thing we knew about these animals was what was written in the catalog. Most three year olds had, ' lunged' some might have 'ridden quietly about the farm' but generally they weren't ridden. I quickly learned that 4 year old horses stated 'unbroken' had generally been ridden and several had problems. So we treated them all as if they were unbroken. One thing was that they all lunged in both directions as they had to be so they could be vetted. 

The Irish breed some lovely horses especially steeple chasers, may of these cost more than a good car, some more than a house. They were not turned out at all as it was to much of a risk. 

When they arrived Mary would see their breeding and state, "You can do this one." She knew from having had horses by the same sire previously, the likelihood they would be more testing. 

We worked well together, and after a couple of days we would start to roller them. One horse a big bay, very laid back, was totally unperturbed with the roller. He was stood resting a back leg watching the other staff squaring up the muck heap. Mary slowly tightened the roller, usually it wasn't put on to tight but as there's was no reaction she did it up tighter than normal. 
The horse stood there not bothering until I asked him to walk on. 

Oh boy did he explode! He went about four feet into the air all legs ridged, head down bellowing as he bucked a couple of circles. He obviously hadn't had a roller on before. 
He soon settled and was working nicely. He accepted all that he encountered and always tried hard. Later he won several races and was the winning horse in the Grand National that was negated because only half the horses started. He was armed Esther Ness. 
Although all the runners didn't start he won in the third fastest time.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Going back* I was over a neighbour's and looking up at the Downs and was reminded of this. 

Mother decided to take the dogs (5) out for a walk on the foot of the Downs. She left about 6.30 p.m. 

Come 9p.m. She wasn't back. There wasn't a friend she could have dropped in to with five dogs so, without rushing I went to look for her. 

The Downs on the south side is covered with Holme oak. There is a flat well trodden path under the trees which is where I though Mum would have walked. 

On reaching the path I called out for General who came running a minute or two later, "Where's Mum?" I asked him 

He turned and trotted ahead looking back every now and then to make sure I was following. Under the trees it was fairly dark and I called mum. She answered not far ahead of me. 

When I reached her, expecting at least a broken leg, there she was the other side of a barb wire fence hanging on as this was on a steep overgrown slope. The Cocker Spaniel was sat with her. 

As I went to help her back up so cattle appeared. Mum was terrified of cattle and on meeting them she had gone through the fence. The cattle stood around watching her! 

The other dogs had all been hunting periodically coming back to see where she was. 

I was in fits of laughter at her. She was hiding behind me and very scratched from brambles and stung by nettles. 

"You stupid woman, " I turned and told General, "Move them away!" 

Immediately he started to bark and move the cattle along the path away from us. 

Mum felt a right fool for not having thought of that.


----------



## knightrider

That Grand National story was just amazing. And to think you started the colt who was the "sort of" winner. What a huge disappointment. I watched the interview and they said, "He might have gotten 10th as there were 10 horses who did not run." But with that fast time, he undoubtedly would have won! Did he run again another year? That is such a heartbreaking story.

Why was your mum afraid of cattle? Did she have a bad experience with them?

If you wrote a book, it would be as good as any horsie memoir I have ever read. My favorite is Ben Green's Horse Trading. Yours would be my equal favorite!


----------



## Foxhunter

Thank you for the compliment knightrider. 

As for being afraid of cattle I don't know why she was. Although she grew up on a small holding they only had goats and my grand father's driving mare. 

She was also frightened of pigs. Mum, my sister who was a toddler at the time so I was about five, had gone to friends in a nearby village to see Aunty Nan. (Family friend) we went for a walk, Sally was in a pram. We came back along a footpath which was rough and Mum and Aunty had to carry the pram with Sally in it. 
When we came down the hill there were pigs all sun bathing by the gate. Mum and Aunty wanted to go back. I didn't I had walked far enough thank you. 

I told them that they were only pigs and wouldn't hurt you, little did I know the damage they could do! I marched towards the pigs and chased them away from the gate so the others could get through. 

I cannot recall if Esther Ness ran in the National again. I am fairly certain he did and was brought down or fell.


----------



## Foxhunter

One horse that came into Mary's was a big Chestnut gelding called Bedtime. He was only two had been gelded because of his height and taken out of training as he had outgrown his own strength. He was dead quiet to ride and the others always rode him out. This was during the winter. 

He went into training and had a run as a three year old. He showed promise but was still weak so back he came. That winter he came into his own strength and started fooling around so I had to ride him out. 

All I can say is that Bedtime had a wicked sense of humour. He was fine riding out on his own but if he met a string of horses he would 'perform' and mess around setting the other horses off. I loved him. I had some wonderful rides out with him. 

He went back into training and did really well, he was entered into the Japan Gold Cup at the end of the season. He ran really well and should have won. Bit of Jockey error in that there was a pace maker in the race. 

Pacemakers are there to set a good pace for another horse in the race. Usually these horses are outclassed by fellow runners. They might be more of a sprinter thus running out of steam before the end of the race. 

So Willy Carson, riding. Bedtime, was expecting the pacemaker to drop back but it never happened and so he left it to late to challenge. 

On his return to the UK Bedtime came straight to us. I have never seen a horse so tired. He fell asleep with his nose in his manger whilst eating his feed. For about a week he was always laying down! I didn't rode him but led him out letting him graze as we walked. Even then the first few days he was falling asleep if we stopped. 

That winter Bedtime came into his strength and was a beautiful ride. Mostly with racehorses they just go along. With him I had him on the bit, leg yielding et al. He had great straight movement and having quite a lot of white on him, eye catching. I played with taking him over poles in the playing field, he relished the new. I asked permission to take him to an indoor dressage show which I was allowed to do. 

Did I mention Bedtime's humour? It came to the fore. He worked well in the warm up area, several people were watching him. I entered the indoor, good working trot up The can't preorder line, great halt. Moved off at working trot, started a 20m circle at E when he saw himself in the mirr, freak, and so it went on! He would not go near this horse that kept appearing all over the place. He wasn't afraid just feeling especially well and using it as an excuse. I am not going to tell you the score. 

We had a lot of horses in from his trainer, Major **** Hern, that winter besides Bedtime. The Major was a great horseman having learned from eventing. He had (I believe) his British Horse Society exams). During the winter he was a great follower of Hounds and hunted a couple of times a week. Very unfortunately he had a fall and broke his neck. He spent months in Stoke Mandersfield Hospital and was left a quadruple paraplegic. 

Everyone thought it would be the end of him training but he didn't give up. Meantime whilst he was still out of action, his assistant trainer took charge. The horses stayed with us including Bedtime. We were asked to do some cantering with them. 

Cantering, in racing terms, is not a canter at all but more a slow gallop. Not something that the younger staff could do as the horses generally wanted to go flat out. To do this we had to use trainers gallops. Mary and I worked them in pairs, nothing could stay with Bedtime and at the top of the hill he was hardly blowing. 

Bedtime went back. He looked a picture, hard muscled carrying a bit of weight which would come off with more faster work. I told the travelling head lad about his antics, warned not to put an inexperienced lad on him, he assured me he would tell the Assistant Trainer which he did. 
Unfortunate the AT thought he knew better as Bedtime had always been easy and stuck some young lad on him. Even when Bedtime dropped this lad on the way to the gallops he didn't swap riders. On the gallops Bedtime hooked off dropped his rider and spent the next half hour galloping and bucking around before he could be caught. So, the idiot sent him back out with an experienced lad and galloped him again. This resulted in Bedtime blowing a tendon thus ending his racing days.


----------



## Knave

I liked that story, but it was one of the ones that make me mad in the end. Lol


----------



## Foxhunter

If it made you mad you can imagine how we felt! 

Best part was that he tried to say that we hadn't got the horse fit. Both the Head Lad and the Travelling Head Lad stuck up for us. The Major knew the truth.


----------



## Foxhunter

Mary was a complex person certainly I hadn't met anyone like her before or since! She would do things to extremes. 

As I had said from the end of April though May and June, we weren't particularly busy. During this time we would both gain some weight. We didn't eat any differently but we weren't doing the long reining out and about. Sometimes we would be walking over ten miles a day just driving the breakers. 

A friend of Mary's made the remark that Mary was getting fat. There was no way she was fat at all, just a bit more rounded than the norm. We always lost it when the Irish horses came in which, on this occasion was in a week or two.

Mary decided she was going to go on a diet. This consisted of as much black coffee she could drink and one small pot of natural yoghurt each day. She stuck to this for a month and then introduced a small pot of cottage cheese each day. She was soon very skinny. She loved the weight loss and stuck to eating next to nothing. She did, when it got colder, have a pita bread with cottage cheese and onion each evening bit, it had to be done a certain way. She would cut the pita longways down the side and then fill it. Should the pita tear then it wasn't thrown away. Two attempts only and if it wasn't right she went without. 

People in the village were asking me if she was ill. They baked goodies and sent them round to no avail.

She was going to a family wedding and came out tomshow me her outfit. She looked awful, legs so skinny and drawn features. She thought she looked great, everyone else was worried sick. 

_To explain, the main stables were L shaped, a tall wall surrounded the yard and the bungalow formed one side. In the middle was a lawn. Experience had already taught me hat lawns and horses do not go well together! Woe betide anyone who allowed a horse to so much step on the grass, that was sure to bring out the temper! _

So, it was winter, not particularly cold. We had several yearlings in we had started. A homebred mare belonging to a friend of Mary's had come in for breaking. She barely knew how to lead. I had started her and had just come out the arena. She needed her legs washing. I had Sue hold her whilst I sponged her legs off. Ty, the mare had never had this done before and she naturally went to movemaway. In doing so two feet went onto the grass. She kept moving away backwards until her butt was against the bungalow wall. As she couldn't go any further she stood and let me wash her legs down. 

Mary was in a stable tacking up and on seeing Ty step on the grass she started screaming at me. I basically ignored her, next thing I know she is on my back hitting me about the head. 
Now, I do have a temper and I admit I can see red but I have never lost it when things are done to me. I stood up and pulled her off me. She was wearing two Puffa jackets and I grabbed a handful in each hand and lifted her off the ground and hung her by the back of said jacket from a hook on the bungalow wall and left her there. 

She was screaming and cussing and moving around like a puppet on a string. I just said to her in a low voice, "Don't you ever raise a hand to me again or I will knock your block off!" 

She apologised so I lifted her down. As I did so the horse she was going to ride pushed his door open and raced out. Bless him, he had a real whoopy all over the law leaving deep holes and skid marks. 

He was put back in the stable amd Mary got a fork to lift the holes amd was treading the skid marks in. I had tacked up my next rode and as I led it out I said, "Mary, do me a favour please amd just lift the only mark Ty left!" 

If looks could kill I'd have died on the spot!


----------



## Foxhunter

All this non eating was driving me crazy. We had a lot of horses in for Major Horne, a couple of Point to Pointers and yearlings to break. 

Mary was going to bed as soon as we finished evening stables. She was getting up around 2 a.m and riding the hearlings out. I argued with her
That if she was hit by a car she wouldn't have a leg tomstand on. 

What with the villagers telling me to get her to eat, word had spread to trainers who were asking me what was going on. 

It all,came to a head when I went into one of the pharmacys in town. I knew a girl who worked there and she asked me to have a word with the pharmacist. I was taken to a side room where he informed me that they were refusing to sell Mary any more laxatives. This came as a shock. 

I crossed the road and went to the other pharmacy and asked in there. They had refused to sell her the same a couple of weeks prior. 

The next morning when Mary was riding, I went into her bedroom and looked in her drawers, the top draw was filled with empty laxative packets and prescription pills from her GP. 

I needed serious help to get her eating again. 

I went to her GP and told him not to give her any more pee pills. She had told him she was race riding and needed to loose weight. Quite a common thing to do occasionally. I told him she wasn't race riding, that she was anorexic and needed help. He was as much help as a chocolte fire guard. 
I found out there was a clinic for anorexics and went along to talk to the woman in charge. I tell you I was crying when I spoke to her. It all seemed so hopeless. I wouldn't be able to get Mary to attend as she denied there was a problem. 
I asked how they got them to eat and was told that they withheld things like makeup, hair brushes showering, anything that they felt they needed until they ate something and kept it down. 

I knew Mary wasn't throwing up as she had a phobia about vomiting. My brain went into overdrive. Makeup withdrawal wouldn't work as she never wore any unless for a special occasion. The only thing that really mattered to her was the business. 

I we had ten or eleven horses in from Major Herne who was in hospital. I called his wife, who had heard about Mary's weight loss, and asked for her help. I went to supper one evening soon after and wedevised amplan. She called Mary and asked if she would drive her to the hospital to see the Major as she didn't like driving at night and the Major wanted to talk to her about the horses. Mary agreed and went over. 
She returned about 9 that night and was laughing. 

I asked how it had gone and she was laughing as she told me that after seeing the Major she had driven Sheila back home where she had been invited in for supper. Of course Mary said she had already eaten. Sheila insisted she came in for a coffee. Once inside she told Mary she looked ill. This was denied. 

Sheila got the bathroom scales and insisted she be weighed. Wearing two pairs of jeans, her boots and two coats, Mary weighed about 90lbs.

Sheila told her that she wanted to see her in a month and if she hadn't gained weight then they would take all the horses amd she would tell other trainers Mary was to sick to care for them properly. 

What she didn't know was Sheila had called me after Mary had left. 

As she told me Mary was laughing. She boiled the kettle for a coffee, went to the biscuit tin and ate half a packet of custard creams. 
She started eating and gained the weight she needed to. 

It was ridiculous how for months she hadn't been eating then just went back to normal.


----------



## Foxhunter

We had many very well bred horses come in, one of these was a yearling filly by Shirley Heights. She was a late June foal, very late for a flat horse. Major Hearne had called asking if Mary would have her. She was from a very good family line of great winners but, the fillies were often impossible to train. His words were, "Not one filly in her line has been broken for three generations. Do what you can but don't get hurt. No rush."

So it was arranged the filly would come in on the Tuesday. Lunch time we get a call to say they couldn't load her. This went on for three days. Finally she arrived. Quite little, only about 14.2, around 16 months old. 

The ramp to the horsebox was dropped and the partition opened and this little spitfire refused to move. After about 20 plus minutes of not very nice treatment from the grooms, I told them to shut the partition, I caught my filly from the field and loaded her. Closed the ramp,amd told them to take them for a drive. 
On their return thirty minutes later we dropped the ramp, led my filly off and the other followed. Once in thenstable I went to take her halter off and the groom told me that if I did I would never get it back on again. 

This was going to be one heck of a challenge! 

I don't know how or why but I started calling this filly Twiddle, she didn't have a registered name and it seemed to suit. 

I could tell what sort of mood she was in by her bed. It would be dug up from the walls into a heap. If she was stood with her front feet on the top of the heap - good mood, back feet - she was going to fight. To catch her in the stable if her back feet were up I had to take a pole in to get her cornered. This didn't last long, just over a week or two. 

I didn't start working her as such but just taking her out for long walks. She loved that. Getting anything on her head was difficult, she hated her ears being touched and I was fairly certain she had had them twisted to get her to comply. I had a bit on the running head of a double bridle, I could get the bit in her mouth and then flip the strap over her neck, work it up and then do it up. 

One morning I got her bridle on and she was snuffling my face smelling the mint I was eating. I gave her one, she took it, crunched it and then opened her mouth shaking her head up and down trying to spit it out. It didn't work as these mints were soft in the centre and it had got stuck. 
Next day when I walked in she immediately started to sniff my pocket. I got the bridle on, for the first time she took the bit with an open mouth. I rewarded her with a Best English Mint. From that moment on when she was helpful she was rewarded with a mint, not any mint would do, she only wanted this particular mint. 

Picking her feet up was problematic, she would practically lie down when I had hold of it. The farrier gave up first time we tried to get her trimmed. It wasn't worth the fight. With the mints she had her fronts trimmed one morning and her hinds at a later date. She offered no objections. 

I had started lungeing her, she was quick to learn. I decided to take her down to the playing field amd work her there for a change. I always had knee cap boots on her as part of the road was very slippery for unshod horses and I didn't want to have her break her knees. 
As we went through the village there was a cherry picker with men working on overhead cables. I was going to go another way but Twiddle looked and wanted to go see. She examined the back of the vehicle, watched the man in the air, didn't bother when the cradle came down and was then happy to go about our business. 

She lunged well in the field and then I let her graze. She put her head down, saw the knee caps, pulled both front legs back and ended up on her knees. She was furious, tearing up the soil in front of her and grunting with temper, she hadn't a clue how to get up and was in such a temper she wasn't thinking. After a couple of minutes of just letting her rage I put a foot on her butt and pushed her over. She then got up. 
She looked at me quite sheepishly knowing she had made a fool of herself. 

_More later, need to get the dogs out! _


----------



## Foxhunter

I wore out a lot of boot leather driving Twiddle all over the place, she loved it. When she was ready for riding Mary took her on. I was at 142 lbs to heavy for her. Mary enjoyed riding her and towards the end of the flat season she went into training, not to run but to just get the feel of things. She returned to the breeders stud for the winter. 

She returned early spring. Again she refused to load so I went there to see if I could help. They had a loading ramp which meant the ramp,was level and blocked on each side. The stud groom was armed with a lunge whip and lunge lines and cussed Twiddle before she was out the stable. 

I don't care who people are, if they ask me to do a job, then let me do it my way. Their way never worked. 

Before she saw me but heard my voice, she whinnyed to me. I led her out on just a leather halter. She was perfectly relaxed. I made the staff keep well back. They were sniggering and I know saying that's I would never get her to load on my own. 

I walked her around for a few minutes, let her pick at some grass and then out of sight gave her a peppermint. Walked her back to the loading ramp, let her stand and look and then she walked straight on. 

I took great delight in remarking, "Can't see why you have a problem!" 

I know with this filly that if you say "You WILL." She will reply, "No I will not." 

She had grown and was stronger, officially she was three, really she had a couple of months before her birthday, Major Hearne said he wouldn't run her until the end of the season so she stayed with us. I started riding her and what fun she was. She wanted to investigate everything. 

At the end of the lane into the village you could go left or right, normally we went left as it led to better rides. Several mornings she half heartedly fought to not go that way so this particular morning I just gave her a loose rein. She then turned right, not down the road but into a little side road leading to a group of houses. She happily walked to the end, turned and came back onto the village road. She never bothered to try it on again, she just wanted to see where it led. 

I was riding her out early one morning, trotting along a fairly busy road although at that time there was never much traffic. A big lorry came along, he hadn't seen me earlier and when he did he hit the brakes, tyres squealed a d the air brakes hissed, most horse would have turned to run but not Twiddle- she carried on trotting past but when she got nearly past it she swung her quarters towards it and double barrelled at the vehicle. A don't you hiss at me moment! 

Imwas returning from a good ride and Twiddle did something untoward. I can't remember what but I gave her a boot. She walked on formabout twenty yards and then bucked. This got a harder boot. A hundred yards and she did it again, I did the same. So it went on all the way home. 
I put her in her stable and took her tack into the tackroom which was next to her stable. I had gone past her (she was tied) she kicked the wall. I flicked her with the reins. 
I did her over and gave her her lunch feed. Put my grooming kit back in the tackroom and walked towards the house. As I didmso she chested the door and snaked her neck out snapping her teeth. 
I had picked up the dog ball so I threw that at her and went indoors. 

Sue was riding her pony in the arena. Her car was in the garage. They called to say it was ready. I leant out the door and called to her saying I would drive her to collect it. With that Twiddle looked over her door straight at me, spun around and kicked the door twice. She then looked back out the door straight at me slapping her lips together. As it had rained and I didn't have any shoes on, she won that one. 

As a four year old she won several races before retiring to stud. It was several years later when I was collecting some horses from another stud and had been asked to deliver a mare back to them. Twiddle was out in a lovely field with other mares and foals. I went to see her. The moment she saw us walking towards them she roused her foal amd moved off. 
The stud manager said we wouldn't get anywhere near her. 

I called out, "Hey Twiddle - want a peppermint?”"

She stopped amd looked, I spoke to her again and she came trotting up to me greeting me as a long lost friend.


----------



## Foxhunter

Another horse that came to us every August was William. He had been bred by a lovely no nonsense couple who knew horses. 

William was a law unto himself. Mary told me that she refused to ride him because he drove her nuts with hos spooking and was to much for most of the others. 

William was a nice looking horse, he arrived with another homebred horse, Susan who was to go Point to Pointing. William was to go into training when he was fit. 

Spook didn't come into it. William would be finding something to move away from - at speed, leading him from the stable to the mounting block. Riding him was a matter of needing to be velcroed to the saddle. That horse could leap 12 feet to either side, spin 180 so fast that it might have been possible to end up sitting on his backwards. 

He was very frustrating! 

Sam and I would rode out together with the pair mainly because William spooking would set other horses off. 

One very windy day we were walking along a single track road just walking. All of a sudden a car peeped its horn. William leapt sideways onto the open field. The car drove past and stopped. The driver got out and told us that he had been behind us for some way before he peeped. I immediately apologised and said we hadn't heard him, which was true. I also said that the horses hadn't realised he was there either because had William known he would have shot forward up the road. 

So, very soon after starting I would give William ten points, in the beginning he would loose at least eight before getting out the drive. He could earn points quite simply by walking over a drain cover or past a piece of paper in the road. 

One day as we were coming back through the village Sam remarked, "Hey, William is still on plus one!" 

"Want to see him loose it?" I asked and leaning forward I just said, "Boo!" in his ear which resulted in a forward spook. 

He did a 180 one day because a butterfly flew in front of him. Another time a milk tanker came past very slowly and he went sideways up a steep bank, he cantered along the top amd back down onto the road as it it was the norm. I never got annoy d or cross with him but would laugh it off. 

On returning from exercise the owners pulled into the drive and asked if they could see William canter in the stubble field opposite. Sam went back into the stables. I turned William and as I rode him up the bank into the field I was pullin my stirrups up shorter. I got one done and as I did the other so a pheasant flew up from the hedge. William went sideways in one leap leaving me in mid air. Sheer luck was that the partner to the first pheasant was near where he landed and flew up so Will caught me before I made a fool of myself. 

I cantered him around the field, Mrs Clark hadn't seen a lot because she was crying with laughter. 

Every day things like putting his sheet on was cause formamspook. Didn't matter how much you did it the next day he would be the same. When it came to clipping Mary said she wouldmget some dope from the vet as he was impossible to do. I decided to have a go myself and had very little bother in getting him clipped out. 

As he got fitter so he spooked a lot less. I am sure he was also looking for a reaction from the rider and when he didn't get it the fun went out of it. 

He went off into training and Mrs Clarke called me to see if I would go over and clip him. The lads couldn't get near him with the clippers. I said I would try and was most surprised when he allowed me to clip him. Apart from being a bit ticklish on his belly he was as good as gold. 

I loved that horse, he was a challenge. When he retired from racing I was asked if I wanted him. The Clare's knew he would be to much for most riders and it was either me or euthanasi. I took him on, he was thirteen by then. I had a couple of seasons hunting on him where he never spooked at all. Then he developed ringbone and wasn't sound so he went to the Hunt.


----------



## Foxhunter

One morning Mary was in a mood, we had been arguing since 5 a.m. She had looked at me mucking out and told me I was doing it wrong. 
The arguing, cussing and swearing had gone on through the course of the day. 

We had a right ding dinger in the back stables. Mary stomped off to put her tack away and I followed a while later. 

In the tackroom we had a chalk board for noting any horse that needed farrier attention. I went to write a horse's name on the board and noticed down each side there were little chalk lines. I turned and asked what they were. The girls laughed and said they were points awarded for out comments when arguing. Pleased to say I was way ahead of Mary! 

We had a horse come in from a trainer. He had been in training the previous year with a different trainer but was proving unrideable, he just bucked everyone off. 

In the stable he was very wary, on entering he would stiffen up and be ready to avoid human touch. On seeing this Mary told me to do him. First day I took him into the arena to lunge him. I had him tacked up and side reins on loosely. He worked well with no problem. Next day I did the same. I bent down to pick up the lunge whip and he freaked. He just exploded. I realised it was because of the whip. I hadn't used it the day before because one of the dogs had taken into the field. 

I worked with BB twice a day. He was so fearful. Any movement with a hand and he was as stiff as a plank. I was fairly certain he had been knocked around. I called his owner, a very pleasant man who didn't know a thing about horses. He told me that the horse had been broken by an event rider and gone into training but hadn't raced. 
I called the eventer who was very pleasant and was told they had had no problem with the horse. He had ridden him out and about, popped a few fences with him and he had never bucked at all. 

I believed him. He was to professional and had no reason to lie. The race trainer had nothing but disparaging words about the horse saying he was dangerous and needed shooting. He had never told the owner this. 

I spent a long time with this horse just fiddling around with him. He was totally relaxed with me but anyone else he was tense. Before I started riding him I wanted him relaxed with other people and a girl we had working, Caroline, started to handle him under my supervision. He soon took to her. 
I had been working with him from the mounting block. I had Caroline stand on the block whilst I led him past. This caused total freakout. So we took baby steps. She would sit on the block, I would lead him to the block and let him graze by the side. It was several days before he would do this. 
Gradually he was relaxed with either of us standing on the block and fiddling with him. I lent over him and Caroline led me down the drive. He didn't mind at all so I slipped my leg across the saddle and was sat on him. Caroline led me around the village and I then went loose. BB was relaxed. I trotted him up the road, had a canter on the verge and was riding back down the lane to the drive on a loose rein. 

Caroline had turned back and instead of going back to the stables had walked up the road to meet me. The moment BB saw a person walking towards us he was tense and started to sweat. I called out to Caroline telling her to speak. The moment he heard her voice he relaxed. 

At the same time as BB I was starting a young horse from Eire. This was a hyper animal that needed more time than the others that had come on the load. Getting his trust was a challenge. If something upset him he would just take off. He tried it many times when I was long reining him out and about.
I called this horse Rosie, he was by Roselier and as yet unnamed. 

As BB and Rosie were so hyper I did take the risk of turning them out together. If I was going to have difficulty in catching them I could herd them into the stables. When I walked out they were at the top of the field. I called them and they looked up at me. I walked to them armed with a couple of carrots and much to my surprise and joy they walked to me to be haltered.


----------



## Foxhunter

I was riding both BB and Rosie. BB was exceedingly wary of anyone walking towards him. I don't know but have the feeling that he had been punished from the ground. I did know that his reaction was to buck and believe me, he could really put them in. 

So, Caroline and I just set out together. The horses had been moved down to Sue's so they got use to a different place. We had just ridden about 25 yards, all relaxed and happy, when a dog ran out of a driveway, this made both horses look but without reaction, then a woman came running after the dog stooping as she went to grab him. That was it, BB exploded, I was propelled across the road landing on a grass bank and hitting my shoulder on the wall. 

BB galloped off down through the village. He did stop and I started to walk towards him. He was terrified. His eye was so fearful and he started to swear profuse, he looked like he had just had a bath. I couldn't catch him so we turned tomwalk back. He followed at a distance and gradually came closer. Finally he was in Sue's courtyard and grabbing a carrot I was able to get him. He was to afraid to eat the carrot but after scratches and petting he relaxed, I was able to remount him and ride him out without any worries. 

I had to get him over this and would take him down to the local primary school and stand near the playground fence, the children would come running to,see him and I had them running back and forth making a lot of noise. It didn't take long before he realised little people running and yelling often had a carrot to poke through the fence and he looked forward to these daily trips. 

Both horses went off into training, BB was never successful, he was placed a few times that was all. Rosie, named Royal Athlete had a way more successful career. He went on to win the Grand National 1995.






The trainer Jenny Pitman had three runners in that race, Royal Athlete, Garrison Savannah and Esher Ness, I started all three horses.


----------



## knightrider

That was an amazing race. How many lengths in the lead did Rosie win by? How often do the loose horses interfere badly with races? There were so many loose horses still running! About what percentage do horses complete the Grand National? Seemed like less than 50% in that race.

Did you ever get to go to the races and cheer on the horses you started? Did you watch it on TV? Did you ever put bets on the horses you started?


----------



## Foxhunter

Oh goodness that is a lot of questions! 

The Grand National is renowned for being a very tough race. For a starter it is nearly four miles. The fences are BIG but they are not packed hard but have spruce branches packed on top of each other so the horses can go through them. 

Forty runners start. They have to qualify and the top horses accepted. If any of these drop out at declarations then another is allowed to run. 

Beechers Brook, so named from a jockey many years ago who fell there, was a notoriously difficult fence. It had a drop to it which on the inside, met raising ground. This has been altered and there isn't a rise on the landing side. 

The chair is the biggest fence being five feet high and wide with a six feet ditch in front. The canal turn requires the horses to turn more or less at a right angle on landing. 

This video is of a horse called Foinavon willing because of a loose horse refusing a fence and running along the fence causing refusals and falls. Back then there were way more starters. 







Conditions play a big part in the number of finishers. Looking up facts e most that finished were 23. The biggest number of starters was 66 way back. 

There are a lot of fallers, the first fence often bringing several down because they start to fast. A fallen horse will often bring down others. 

I cannot remember when but in recent years in very wet conditions, only two horses jumped round with two others followong that had been remounted, which is now not allowed. 

Possibly the unluckiest horse was the Queen Mother's horse Devon Loch ridden by **** Francis which made an extraordinary mistake on the run in when well in the lead. **** Francis swore that he was trying to jump the water fence. You can also see how a loose horse can interfere with other horses.


----------



## Foxhunter

Rosie won by seven lengths. 

As for gambling, yes I did have a flutter or three! I won on Rosie. 

I never got to the National. 

Betting can take you over, I watched many lads loose their weeks wages gambling. I will say more about that later in my memories.

Mr Fisk won in the fastest time. The horse was notoriously difficult to train so the trainers wife would lead him out from another horse, he was rarely ridden at home. 

Red Rum is the only horse to win the race three times. He ran five years in succession, 1973/74 he won 74/75 he was second carrying top weight and then won again in 76. 
I remember watching that race, everyone was screaming for him to win even though they hadn't backed him! Not bad for a horse that was bred for sprint racing and had pedal osteiti! 
After he retired they paraded him at shows. I was against that until he came to the Island. That horse loved the attention. He was led into the arena as the show jumpers were awarded their prizes. Rummy stood watching those horse unperturbed. Then when his name was announced he grew three hands and started bucking and showing off! 

There is a statue of him at Aintree and he is buried there by the winning post.


----------



## Foxhunter

The travelling head lad from Major Hern came to deliver some horses to go to the sales. He told us that they had a very good colt, American bred that we should start betting on formthe 2,000 guineas and the Derby. Two classic flat races. 

Mary and I both enjoyed a flutter every now and then. We never bet much, just the odd pound or two, usually on horses we knew or, tips we had received. 
So, we started to put money on Nashwan. We usually bet to win rather than each way. This started in the January, the Guineas was held in late April. Nashwan had won two races as a 2 year old. We got great odds. Every time we went in the bookies we put something in hi, betting slips went into a kitchen drawer. Mostly we had bet on the Derby and winnings we got from him winning the Guineas we put straight on him for the Derby. The odds had shortened significantly. 

The great thing was that Major Hern, in a wheelchair had trained the horse. Not many had faith in his ability to train after his accident. 

He won. We scurried to get the slips put the drawer and not knowing who had put what on decided to split our winnings down the middle. It was a significant sum.

A colt came in from Major Hern. A tall flashy chestnut 3 year old colt called Sandbuck. He was for sale but privately not through the sales ring. He had won three or four races, twomas a 2 year old and two at 3. He was meant to run in the Classics but, after each of his races he wasn't sound and took a while to get him sound. 

Various people came to look at the horse but no deal was done. En I get a call to say an Arab prince's agent was coming to look at the horse. That afternoon a flash sports car driven by a Dutch man arrived. He had a polarised camera and took many pictures of Sandbuck who showed off something chronic. The man obviously knew nothing about horses and thought this was wonderful. He drove off the Heathrow to deliver the pictures to someone who was on the prince's private jet to deliver them asap. 

We heard nothing more. Then some Australians came and looked at Sandbuck. A couple of days later we were told he was sold to the Aussies. 

We heard nothing more until a month or so later, when we were told not to let the horse go as he hadn't yet been paid for. 

The Arab made arrangements to come that afternoon, he hadn't gone through Major Herne but straight to us. Mary called and wa stood tomshow them the horse. 
Not an hour later we get the call that he had been paid for by the Aussies. 

The Arab prince turned up. He looked about 12 years old. He was in a Rolls Royce with. Three body guards, another BMW with four more heavies followed and then the agent in his car. Quite a contingent. Mary had gone out somewhere. 

The agent told me that they knew the horse had been so,d but still wanted to see it. I pulled him out and he was studied from all angles. 

All the time I kept saying the horse had been sold. That didn't mean a thing, the prince wanted the horse plain and simple. 

He spoke to one of his guards who went to the back of the Rolls and pulled out a metal case. He opened the lid to reveal wads and wads of £50 notes all in sealed bags straight from the bank. 

The Prince had wandered off looking over stable doors and I asked the guard how much was in each case and was told £250,000 on each one. There was over 2 million on the boot of that car. 

My mind went into overdrive. Obviously the Aussies had had a problem in raising the money, would they take a profit? They were offering 150% more for the horse. 
I couldn't take the risk. 

The Prince was interested in three of the files destined for the sales. I told him to get in touch with Major Herne as it was nothing to do with me. 

He didn't like being told no and got quite belligerent with me. In the end he put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a handful of notes, threw it on the side and stormed off. 

When I counted the money it was over £300 - best tip I ever got!

Sandbuck left a few weeks later to go into quarantine before flying out to Australia.


----------



## Foxhunter

When I started with Mary there wa a horse there Quayplay, a chestnut gelding. This horse had raced and had horrendous scars on his shoulder including a fist sized indentation. He was going Point to Pointing and Mary didn't like riding to Hounds much so I had the pleasure of riding him. 

_Pointers have to qualify with a hunt to gain a certificate allowing them to race._

To say he was a bit erratic was an understatement! He would get so excited and throw himself around quite dangerously. Mary told me to keep him tomthe back . After a day of this I knew why she did t want to qualify him! Next time out I was at the back, Hounds were running hard with good tongue. From a vantage point on a hill I managed to see them swing off to the right. 
An older man on a big horse yelled that Charlie was makingmforma big drain and asked me to go with him. We set off in a straight line to try and swing the fox away from the drain. 
Quayplay was way faster than his horse and as I galloped upmparallel to Hounds, I managed to get to where the drain started so Charlie ran on. We folded way ahead of the huntsman and the Field. Finally Hounds were marking to ground. 

One of the Masters thanked me for what I did. Evidently a fox had run into the drain and a couple of Hounds followed resulting in them getting stuck and they had to get a digger to uncover the drain, and get Hounds out. 

After that run I stayed at the front and Quayplay was a different horse. He settled, was bold enough to take the lead over some trapped fences. I enjoyed qualifying him more than the other horses we had in. Mary could never understand it! I never told her I had him right at the front. 
When he raced he always ran well but ran out of puff because he fought the jockey not wanting to be anywhere but the front. I persuaded Mary to let him make the running for once. He led the way and apart from when the jockey gave him a breather, nothing came near him. 
He was a fun horse.


----------



## knightrider

> Oh goodness that is a lot of questions!


Yes, a lot of questions because I think it would be so wonderful to sit with you in front of a lovely fire drinking something nice and hearing your stories. I'd keep asking questions hoping to keep hearing more stories.

So . . . when did they stop letting riders get back on and finish the race? Did they stop that practice because riders were getting on injured horses and trying to finish?

Why do so many horses fall in the Grand National? I've been to a bunch of point to points and steeplechase races and not many horses fall. There is a big steeplechase in Maryland where the jumps are timber. Not many horses fall, maybe 3 or 4 in the course of 10 races. Is it because the jumps at the Grand National are so big? I can only imagine how brave those riders are. 
https://www.visitmaryland.org/article/steeplechase-events

I qualified every year to ride in point to point races, but never did. One year I was going to, and then thought, "Are you crazy?" and didn't go. I never had a really fast horse so I wouldn't have won and why risk it.

Did you ride in point to points sometimes?


----------



## Foxhunter

No, I never race rode. Don't know why as I had qualified many Point to Pointers. 

The reason so many horses fall is because of the number of runners, also a lot are pulled up because they are not going well. 

It is mainly the number of runners that cause the problems, horses not getting a clear view of a fence or being brought down by a fallen. Unfortunately some horses do get a fatal injury, not just in then National but other races too. 

Some horses run really well and love the National course others run there once and never go well over those fences again. 

When I last came over and stayed in Kansas City with a great group of cyber friends, we all went out for a meal, I think it was one of the Outback restaurants. We were having such a laugh. There were over twenty of us there and so they had to put tables together for us. 

I wasmtwlling one of my tales about the sheep. It was quite funny. All of a sudden I noticed the silence, there was no chatter from other tables theynwerenall listening. I stopped talking and after a long pause a voice from across the other side of the room called out, "Plrase don't stop m'am and can you speak up?" 

This was greeted with encouragement from other diners.

Needless to say I finished the story and a couple of others.

I would enjoy the open fire but do not drink anything but tea and I bring my own teabags as those you get over there are crap!


----------



## knightrider

> I bring my own teabags as those you get over there are crap!


That's what my British friend tells me, also!!


----------



## egrogan

@Foxhunter, if it gives you any consolation there are now some easy ways to get teas from British companies here in the states so we are learning...slowly. We have been drinking Tea Pigs teas lately and they are tasty (to my uneducated palate :wink https://www.teapigs.com/customer/about_us

Your story about the restaurant conversation gave me a good laugh and I could absolutely picture the scene.

Also enjoyed the story about the prince and his entourage showing up at your farm. Did he grow up to be one of the big owners in the Middle East I wonder?

It’s amazing to read your stories about how these horses got their start. Thanks for sharing them!


----------



## Foxhunter

Again when in KC we would go to a place for breakfast. I asked for a pot of boiling water for my tea. What was brought to me was hand hot. In the end the manager came and said I might burn myself and sue. 

I stood up and announced, "I am British, I drink tea. To make a good cuppa you need boiling water. I hereby announce that it I scald myself with the said boiling water, or anyone else, I will take full responsibility for it." 

I got my boiling water each morning,


----------



## Foxhunter

This is the 2002 National held in very wet conditions where only four horses finished, third and forth actually remounting. 

Most of the carnage was from loose horses. All horses were fine. 

You have falls, refusals and unseated riders all over the place. 

This is the review of the race, fences shown at several angles and also some in slow motion. 






Forgot to say the winner was bred by my late boss's sister in law.


----------



## Foxhunter

As a comparison here is the acheltenham Gols Cup, the premier race of National Hunt racing. 

The fences are much stiffer being made of birch, the course is undulating, you don't get the true picture of how long and steep the uphill is nor the downhill. 

The biggest difference is that the race is also shorter, never as many starters so it is way more a test of horse ability and rider skill though luck can also play a part. 

This is when Garrison Savannah won. He ran three weeks later in the National finishing second.






Once involved with jump,racing flat racing seems boring!


----------



## knightrider

Here is my funny point to point race story: There was a horse in the paddock circling around who certainly did not look like a hunter. We joked about how many times he hunted and how long. I don't remember how many times you had to hunt to qualify to ride in that point to point race, but it was something like six or ten times. We joked that the horse must have been out for 20 minutes in the hunt field, just enough for the field master to note his name. He looked like a very thin, fit, thoroughbred off the racetrack.

So, the race started, and the thoroughbred-looking horse was going along right well, jumping nicely, when his saddle began to slowly work its way backward. It was already on the horse's loin, with the rider still on him and still completing the jumps. When the saddle got past the loin, the horse began to buck wildly. It tossed the rider up on the wither. The horse bucked the saddle right off, and the rider completed the race bareback. Didn't come close to winning, of course, with all that bucking, but surely was a good laugh for all the spectators.


----------



## Foxhunter

Majority of jumpers her wear breast plates of some sort but saddles have been known to slip. 

One funny one when with Mary was standing watching a race at a PtP. One of the Masters was standing near me. He had a horse in the race ridden by a chap called Richard Dunwoody then an amateur who later turned professional and did very well. 

As the horses, about twelve runners went into the first fence the Master was heard to say, "That horse has never been off the ground, he came straight off the flat." 
"Aren't you worried?" 
"No, he'll come up when the others do."

He was right! 

another jockey, **** Pitman, who was talking on one of those videos and his son won on Garrison Savannah, told the story of how when he was starting he was in a novice race at some course with a line of five fences down the back. An older jockey, a stride away from the fence yelled out "Three!" Several of the other jockeys gave their horses a big kick to jump way before they should have. The horses tried and failed. The thing was that the older jockey did the same thing down the line and the others mostly reacted to it. 

They got their revenge by locking him in the showers turning off the hot water! 

The jockeys and lads work hard and play hard. It is a serious risk game. Somewhere I read that 1:6 rides ends in a fall of some sort. Injuries of broken limbs and collar bones are the norm. Serious injuries happen. 

I believe a percentage of all entries go to the Injured Jockey Fund. This also covers flat riders. 

There is great camaraderie amongst them all. In the review video you can see one jockey pulling another clear of a horse that had fallen. Practical jokes are rife. 

One of the best jockeys ever, John Francombe was in the lead for Champion Jockey. He caught up with Peter Scudamore who had been well in the lead but was out through injury. When John was equal to the number of wins, he didn't race ride the rest of the season. It was towards the end of that racing year, but he could have become champion.

This shows John's humour. It went out live. I can recall nearly choking when I heard it at the time.


----------



## Knave

That race was amazing. I am going to have to show my family! Wow!


----------



## Foxhunter

Knave - which one?


----------



## Knave

The 2001 grand national. These races are all new to me, as I’ve only read about them in your journal.


----------



## Foxhunter

I had to take some time off work as I had to have a hysterectomy. I arranged for this to be done when we weren't so busy. I came back to work straight into the Irish consignment of horses to break. You weren't allowed to be ill working for Mary! 

I was soon back into the swing of things. A friend of mine, Rachel, had been staying to paint the stables. 

A young woman who had her own unbroken filly, came to help with the youngsters in return for helping break her horse. 

A big bay horse was in the consignment by a stallion Pit Pan. The moment Mary saw his breeding she told me that he was mine to do and to watch out as every Pit Pan horse she had dealt with had been mean and nasty. 

This horse was a three year old, big and strong. They had a couple of easy days to get over their trip and were just led out and lightly lunged. The Pit Pan was fine with this. He seemed quite amenable, no different to the others. 

We set about putting the roller on them, started one end of the stables and worked our way along the line. The weather was hot. The arena was clinker (cinders) so could get very dusty. The Pitpan was about the fifth horse that day. I had lunged him and then Mary came in to put the roller on him. Instead of using a couple of saddle pads she brought in a big thick square of foam rubber, we had used it before but not often. 
As usual I stood holding his head, the pad went on, she handed me the breast girth, I held it. She came round, did the breast girth up and started to do the roller up. 
This was done slowly in increments. No sooner was the roller just touching his girth then he exploded. I held on keeping him moving on the circle. He wasn't just bucking he was roaring legs very stiff, ears flat back and angry. 

The foam and roller slipped to his right, the buckle of the breast plate was against his withers on his left, the other down by his elbow. 

It was a good ten minutes before he began to settle back to a trot, he went about half a lap, turned and came at me punching his feet out and mouth wide open. Had he got me he would have torn me to pieces, I have no doubt about that. 

I was able to drive him away with the lunge whip and keep him out and moving. He wasn't going to give in. After a good hour he was still thinking of ways to get me. Mary had to go to the bank to get our wages. There were others around to help if necessary. I was still unable to get near him to remove the roller without him trying to kill me, 

It was about 11 when we started and gone four before I was able to stop him and get to his head. A lad working there, Stewart managed to get the roller off. 
I led him back and we bathed him down. He stood for this as good as gold. I put him back into his stable and went to have a shower. 

Later we were doing the horses for the night. I walked to his door and he flew at me. Stewart tried and the same thing happened. 
Much as I love the horses I am not going to be harmed by them if I can help it. I threw his hay over the door and that was him done for the night. He had smashed up his water bin so as we couldn't get near the door, he went without water. 
Two days later he was so thirsty he forgot his animosity and was happy to drink sociably from a bucket and have a halter on. 

I led him out taking an old surcingle with me. This didn't have a tongue to the buckle but I kept throwing it over him and first held it together then slightly (very slightly) held it through the buckle, he eventually accepted this. 
I put the roller and pad on him in the stable. He again went ballistic, smashed another water container and was unsociable again. I had left a headcollar on him this time which enabled me to grab him. 

That night he had obviously rolled and moved the roller so pressure was on his withers. I was able to take it off but not get it back on straight away. I put it back on that evening. 
2 a.m. I was awoken to a horse struggling obviously cast. Mary and I ran out and it was Pit Pan upside down with a back foot caught in the metal hay manger that he had partially ripped off the wall. 

We got him up with difficulty as he was fighting all the time. In the morning he was crippled behind. The vet came and was sure he had torn the muscles and ligaments in his quarters. 

He stayed on box rest for a month and then was taken off to be turned out and heal. 

This was not a normal horse at all. Something was very wrong with his attitude. He might have been roughly handled but I doubt abused. 

End of September the trainer had an open day for all her owners. She had the Pit Pan horse brought back from where he had been turned out and stabled at her place. She told the Head Lad to put a rug on him. 

The girl who was looking after the horse held him whilst the lad put the rug on. That was fine until he went to do the roller up. The horse knocked the girl flying and went after the head lad meaning to kill him. He ran horse on his heels. He took refuge in the garage where new stable doors had been stacked. He squeezed between two rows, the horse followed, rearing up pulling the doors down and smashing the garage roof with his head. Fortunately he stopped before reaching his human enemy. 

He was destroyed the next day.


----------



## Foxhunter

Knave said:


> The 2001 grand national. These races are all new to me, as I’ve only read about them in your journal.


Jump racing is a lot more exciting than flat racing. 
Flat is for the boys, jumping for the men!


----------



## egrogan

Foxhunter said:


> Jump racing is a lot more exciting than flat racing.
> Flat is for the boys, jumping for the men!


Happened to see this article this morning: https://www.paulickreport.com/news/...ar-irish-jumps-jockey-nearly-falls-wins-race/

Check out the video embedded in the article, I think it makes your point!


----------



## knightrider

The announcer says, "Unbelievable stuff!" I'll say! I guess it helps if you weigh 100 pounds and are super strong in your core.


----------



## Foxhunter

National Hunt jockeys aren't small. In the National minimum weight is 140 lbs, (it is a handicapped race) they have to carry the 140 even if they are rated below that. 
Top weight is 168 lbs. few horses win with top weight. That is what beat Red Rum in his two races when he came second though he did win his third (a record) carrying 162 lbs. 

Two things make it hard on all jockeys here, one is the travelling and the other is keeping the weight down. Many jump races require far less weight.


----------



## Foxhunter

In the Autumn two horses came from Eire to be started. One a chestnut already named Mr Dibbs and the other a bay. 

The bay horse was a real gentleman and easy to get going. The chestnut was very athletic and a thinker. To him life was one great party. There was absolutely no malice to him, just that he liked to say, "What if?" 
He was a natural jumper and loved it. I would loose jump him, he'd go upma grid stop in the top corner and turn and come back down the grid the wrong way. 

The arena developed a puddle, he would do everything he could not to go through at puddle, pull outside my of it, cut in or even jump it but he was t going to get his feet wet. 
One Saturday morning I was having fun loose jumping him when one of the girls told me that an owner was calling and needed to speak urgently to either Mary or me. I left Dibbs loose in the arena and went to take the call. When I got back there was Dibbs standing in the middle of the puddle watching for me to turn the corner, the moment I did he dived into the puddle and rolled back and forth, he was now a black horse. A bath was earned. 
Another time I returned from riding to see one of the girls going into Dibbs with a twitch. The farrier was trying to get back shoes on him and he was really playing up. I dismounted and handed them the horse I had ridden and walked into the stable. Immediately Dibbs picked up hos back foot and stood just holding it up. He knew better but had to just test. He stood like a pro because he knew I was around. 

I had a heavy cold coming, I felt stuffed up and heady. Sue (down the road) was away but her son and three friends were down for the weekend from university. Dom called me and asked if I would come to supper and cook for them. I didn't want to but eventually gave in. 

I cooked supper and drank quite a lot of red wine, at the end of the meal we had port and brandy, or three. I was totally wasted. 
It was winter and there was a hard frost. When the cold air hit me I was even more wasted. 

The house was small, only two bedrooms but one of the stables had been converted into a spare room and utility room. One of the lads was sleeping there. I knew the best thing for me to do was up chuck. I went to the drain near the converted stable and threw up. The lad brought me water. I drank a lot, threw up and drank more. 
I was worried that if I tried to walk back and fell over, either because of my inebriated condition or because of the ice, I might not get up and die of hyperthermi. The lad got into bed, I lay on the top of the blankets with a spare duvet over me. 
It was one of those times when the light was spinning regardless of being on or off! 

Next thing I know is that I hear Mary banging on the house door screaming out, "Where is she, Dom where is she?" 

Dom said I had left, perhaps look in the boiler room. 
The door was thrown wide open and Mary stood there cussing and swearing. I was in no mood for a row, I was still drunk. Despite the latter fact I had the sense to say, "I'm going to be sick." 
The door slammed and she was gone. 

I did eventually get up. My mouth felt like the bottom pf a parrot's cage, I was still drunk and had a headache from hell. 
I walked up the road, went to the house, drank several mugs of tea and rode out. 

There had been many times that I have been drunk, I was renowned for being able to hold my liquor but this had me beat. I later learned that between the four of us we had drunk six bottles of red wine, three bottles of port and best part a bottle of brandy. 

I rode out twice on my own, the horses had an easy day! I had to work Mr Dibbs and longrein him out. I went to tack him up which was fine but every time I tried to put his boots on he moved hos leg and I fell over. Two of the girls were doubled up watching me and finally did it for me. 

That is the one and only time in my life I have ever had a hangover. 

Riding Mr Dibbs was fun. He was so sharp and keen to learn. Life was still one big game. I was cantering him along a track when he started to buck. I kept him going and cantered him up a steep hill in plough then turned him around, cantered him back down and back along the track. Half way he started to buck. Turn and repeat. Finally after four tries I got to the end of the track without bucks, just as I went to pat him so he gave an almighty back kick just to let me know he wasn't beat. 

First time someone else rode him he dropped them three times going down the drive! No malice, just "what if?"

He went into training, won all three of his first races, what a called Bumpers, flat races for National Hunt bred horses, next season he won his first hurdle race. Then he ran very badly and was pulled up. He had a virus on him at the time which hadn't shown prior. After that he never really tried.he got to the finish didn't matter if the others got there first he didn't need to be with them. 

That horse would have been a top event horse had he been in a different field of equestrian sport.


----------



## Foxhunter

Just for fun I thought I would put up Red Rum's five Grand Nationals. 

He was a phenomenal horse who absolutely loved the Aintree course. 
The first is extended coverage so you can skip the first 5 mins.


----------



## Foxhunter

The two years he was second


----------



## Foxhunter

Red Rum making history.


----------



## knightrider

@Foxhunter wrote a really nice tribute to Red Rum in the Horse Stories and Poems section of The Horse Forum.

https://www.horseforum.com/famous-horses/red-rum-608026/#post7814234


----------



## Foxhunter

I had forgotten all about that, thanks. 

Back to my tales. 

After I came out of hospital and had a recouperation pf around five weeks I was back at work. I had lost a lot of weight and tired very easily. Mary was being bloody minded and awkward. I was being Head hunted by the trainer of the bulk of the youngsters, Jenny Pitman, to work for her, 

I had never worked in a racing yard before and I thought it would be interesting so, I handed in my notice and moved. 

I n ver expected the reaction I received from the lads. They were very resentful that I was above them in ranking and they did all they could to make my life pure hell. 
Anything I asked them to do they wouldn't unless I resorted to yelling and cussing then it was done but without a will. 

I had a bedroom and bathroom at the top of a house for the lads on the yard, four others lived downstairs, we shared a kitchen and sitting room. This was known as the big bungalow, opposite was the little bungalow with four lads living in there. A static caravan was the other side of the stables and another house down in the village where six lived. Others lived in rooms or with parents. 

There were 80+ horses in the stables. One side were all brand new, lovely brick built in a square with two squares of lawn in the centre. The others were mainly wooden stables in the old yard. The trainers house was by the old stables, a beautiful old house known as Weathercock House. 

The trainer was renowned for her toughness, she had to be. It was very much a man's world and women hadn't been allowed to train until a few years before and majority of trainers were either small time or had money behind them. She had worked her way up from being a groom, marrying Richard Pitman, a jockey, they lived in a caravan with two boys and Jenny trained Pointers and had resting jumpers in. She was good at her job and owners persuaded her to take out a license and when success was looming she bought the run down house and yard. 

At the bottom of the drive there was a concrete pillar with a big painted concrete cockerel. One morning this was missing. She was furious! Word went around that it had to be returned by the culprits within 48 hours or she would call the police. The next morning, after first lot had been ridden out three jockeys drove to the house. They had the cockerel with them. 

From the kitchen you could hear her say, "I thought you might be involved. As for you, you should have known better and who the (expletive) are you?" 

She fined them all £100 each on the spot, they had to write cheques out to the local Riding for the Disabled group. Nothing more was said about it. 

I went to go to bed one night just a few weeks after I started to find I had no bed. I couldn't be bothered to go look for it as I knew there was a spare mattress in the walk in loft. I dragged that out and slept on that, replacing it in the morning. 
I found my bed hidden in the hay barn. I never said anything, I wasn't going to give them the pleasure! When the hay went down, about two weeks later I just casually said, "You had better put that bed back before the Missus sees it. " 

My bed was returned. 

I wasn't actually looking after any horses myself but did all the feeding and overseeing things were done correctly. On a Monday it was always a big muck out day. Sundays being a day of rest for the horses only half the lads worked so mucking out was basically just taking the droppings out. As I was in the yards by 5 a.m. after feeding I would put bales of straw, shavings or paper outside each stable depending on what the horse was bedded on. It wasn't really appreciated. 

I would tack whatever horse I was riding for first lot and go have a cuppa. It was t unusual for me to return to find the saddle on backwards and boots on incorrectly. They were ******s! 

Word got back to the missus and she asked me if she should have a word with the lads. I told her that there was more than one way to skin a cat and if I couldn't get control on my own then I didn't deserve the position. 

The lads worked hard and played hard. There were good and bad working there. One lad in the little bungalow was not a nice person. His hygiene was greatly lacking, he was lazy and selfish. The other three said that he would lie on the sofa and refuse to move so others could sit comfortably. You can imagine my surprise when I went out one very frosty morning to feed, 

I would put on the row of lights down one side and as I walked to the feed room so I saw something between the two lawns, I walked over and it was this lad in his bed. He was snuggled down in a sleeping bag but what hair that was showing was frosted. 

I left him there. 

Others arrived and started mucking out and still he slept on. Finally he woke up finding he was late for work. 

He left the following week with no one regretting his leaving.


----------



## Foxhunter

The horses were all looking and feeling well, they started to race and I listened to the lads about their chances of winning and lost money. I then put £100 on a separate bank account so that when it was gone that was it for the season. 

I watched and waited. Horses that were working really well at home were running disappointedly in races. Blood tests revealed nothing. 

I was basically only riding out first lot and the rest of my day was spent clipping and mane pulling. 80+ horses needing regular clipping took quite sometime. 

I started to notice that some horses, after they had worked (galloped) had a white mucus from their nostrils. Some it was fleeting and immediate, others it might be when they were back in the stables. I started to note which ones had this. I also noticed another new Irish lad was observing the same thing. We worked together. I could, being in the stables after first lot, see which horses had the White whilst Paddy could see those on the gallops. 

I started to only bet on the clean horses. They usually won. My funds slowly increased. Winnings went into the bank account religiously. 

I started cooking for the lads in the big bungalow. They were terrible at cooking and things were burnt or the cooked covered with grease where they fried things. In return they had to do the housework. 

I would buy whatever was needed and divide the costs. Two shelves in the fridge were for food that could be eaten for breakfast or lunch, the rest was for the evening meal and woe betide anyone that touched it. 

Hours were long. Lads started at 6.30 a.m. Mucked out the three horses they cared for, we rode out just after 7, had a cup of tea after that and then back to riding out, three, sometimes four lots. After lunch feed around 12.30 we were finished until evening stables at 3.30, finishing around 6 p.m. 

We worked all season, having every other Saturday afternoon and Sunday off. Sundays were easier as only horses that were running the Monday or a Tuesday were ridden out. As half the lads were off it did mean more mucking out but even so it was only about four or five hours that day. 

A routine set it. The lads weren't fighting me as much. They tried all sorts of things but I never bit. Getting no reaction bored them so they moved on. 

One lunchtime I got in my car to go to the village. It started fine but just wouldn't go anywhere. I revved it up and still no forward or backward movement. I could see nothing wrong. Then I noticed the lads looking out the windows. The beggars had lifted the back up, put wood under the axle so the wheels were just off the ground. I had to laugh at that one and they soon came out and removed the obstruction. 

I kept warning them they had better watch out because I would get revenge. They just laughed and said I was outnumbered - what could I do about it. 

They were soon to find out.


----------



## Foxhunter

I was left to get on with the clipping. I asked if there were any horses that were difficult to do and was told not. One afternoon I had the extension plugged in and had done a couple of horses in the line of stables. The next horse that needed doing was a liver chestnut who had sweated a lot on exercise. 

As the stables were quite dark I would ride a lead rope across the door so more light flowed in. The horse was stood there and as I had the little clippers plugged in, I started on his head. He was good, never moved and I did all his head whilst he was looking out over the rope. 
I went inside and started on his body. I had put a halter on him but thrown the rope over his neck. 

To get the lines right on the front legs and all the hair off around the inside of the forelegs you need to have the leg well forward. To do this whilst on my own I would hold the leg forward with mine going out behind me. This enabled me to see what I was doing. I he'd done his off side and all under him. All I had to do was his near side quarters. I had his head to the back of the stable and was quite happily clipping away when the Missus boomed out, "What the (expletive) are you doing clipping that horse?" 
"Well, he needed doing."
"I know he needed doing, the ****** had put two lads in hospital when being clipped. He needs to be doped to the eyeball."
"Well, he hasn't moved unless I asked him, he's been one of the best."
"Wait until Scooby gets back to hold him." 

I stopped, rugged him up and moved on to do the next horse. 
Scooby came back and I asked him to hold the horse. He caught him and held him in the stable, I started the clippers and the horse went berserk, kicking, pulling away and generally offering to get us both. 
I put the clippers down and said I would leave him. 

Next day the horse went out with one quarter still hairy. I waited until everyone had finished for the morning and went back to finish him off. He just stood without any show of nastiness. I clipped him many times always when there was no one around and without him being tied and he was perfectly behaved.


----------



## Foxhunter

The worse horse to clip was the Missus favourite Corbiere. He had won the National in 85. He jumped around the course with barely a mistake. 







He hated being clipped. He wouldn't fight as such and the first clip wasn't so bad but as he got fitter so he hated it more. 
Doing up his neck was the worse because he would judder his muscles and the clippers would come away from his skin leaving hair meaning I had to run over the same area again. 

One clip he was a beggar and it had taken me ages. He had started to sweat where he juddered so much and I had to keep leaving him and going back. Then I had to catch him! He was like a small pony the way he could spin in his stable to avoid me catching him because he knew what was coming. No malice just catch me if you can. 

I had just finished him on afternoon when a mini bus arrived with disabled children from the local club. The Missus pulle dout Corky and he stood as good as gold whilst the children, some in wheelchairs, made a fuss of him. Butter wouldn't have melted in his mouth.


----------



## Foxhunter

Here's one for you, a horse called Jay Trump who won two Maryland Hunt Cups and the National.


----------



## knightrider

@Foxhunter, Did you bet on Corbiere? At 12:1, I certainly hope you did. I am really enjoying all these race videos. It's so exciting that you started and rode those horses.

I remember Jay Trump very well because I am from Maryland. It was a big deal that he ran and then won the Grand National. It was all horse people could talk about at that time. Thank you so much for putting up these videos.

https://mdthoroughbredhalloffame.com/index.php/the-horses/class-of-2013/jay-trump


----------



## Avna

I remember Jay Trump because there was a book about him I checked out of the library when I was a kid (I read every single thing in the library about horses). It was called The Will To Win.


----------



## Foxhunter

The man who trained Jay Trump for the National was a brilliant trainer. He had ridden himself and won the National twice, I think. He sent out two other winners of that race. 

There was a quiz on TV here where the finalists can choose from three choices. The couple chose National Hunt racing. One question was to name a jockey who won the National, a trainer and some other. Watching I named Fred Winter for all three answers and would have won with all three answers.


----------



## Foxhunter

Most race meetings, especially the bigger ones, have a Best Turned Out prize for the lads leading the horses up. This might be a jacket, money or other gifts. It is judged as the horses walk around the paddock and welcombed by the lad, who usually tends the horse at home, 

It soon became known that I could plait a horse, mane and tail better than most so, I was often asked to do the horses before they left. Either the lad paid me for doing it or, we split the prize. 

Pleased to say that in the first season I was there we won more turn out prizes than any other yard. 

One big meeting we won every turn out prize at the meeting. This was a big meeting and e prizes were significant. The biggest race was sponsored by a brewery company and the prize was goodness knows how many crates of cans of beer. Another race at the meeting was £100. A girl called Zoey, who because she had a broken finger at the time, had asked me to plait her horse. She won the beer. Martin, to my mind an alcoholic, won the £100. He wanted to swap. The beer wasn't any good to Zoey and it seemed sensible to do but the beer was worth way more. In the end Martin got the swap plus giving some money. 
Zoey was more than fair with paying me my share, Martin wasn't. He wouldn't pay me in beer nor give me any cash so I never did any of his horses again and he never won a turn out again. 

Martin was a drunk, he would get paid and in two days majority of his money was gone. The lads all said at how much he could drink but I disagreed. It didn't take much for him to be rolling drunk though that didn't stop him continuing until he was out of the picture. 

Somehow a challenge was laid down for a drinking match. Paddy was running a book on the event, bets were rife. The Missus heard about it and asked me what was going on. I told her and she asked, "Are you sure you can win?" I assured her I would and I later learned she had £10 on me. 

It was a Saturday night. I was going to drink whiskey Martin on beer and then he would change to whisky. By he time Marin had drunk about six pints he was drunk. I had matched with the whiskey (Irish) and by the time a couple of hours had gone by I was still standing, talking without slurring and able to perform the sobriety tests. 
There is no way I would have passed a breathalyser test but I was in control. The lads were impressed. I had downed about 3/4 of a bottle. 
I was quite proud of myself. I won a cut of the takings plus £50 from Martin which was difficult to get out of him. 

Come Christmas we were all working, Boxing Day (26th) was a big racing day so horses had to be worked. The Missus supplied all the houses with a turkey. I offered to cook for all those that wanted to chip in for the costs and was overwhelmed when all bar about two accepted. 

Cooking for 29 people on an ordinary four ringed cooker was going to take some organisation! 

The Missus got me three turkeys and a big joint of gammon. I could use the cooker in the little bungalow as well as my normal one. Zoey and Britney helped me do the prep the day before, peeling spuds, carrots and getting sprouts ready. I stuffed the birds, cooked the ham and did all I could to make life easier. 

The Missus had given us beer and a couple of crates of wine, everyone had chipped in £10 and I had plenty left over so decided to also do breakfast. 

The living room was big, we cleared the arm chairs and sofa out, brought the table from the little bungalow over. The builder who did all the maintainance work lent me a couple of trestles and sheets of chipboard plus some planks. We managed to get a table big enough to seat us all. The lads had to bring their own cutlery and plates. 

Christmas morning was crisp and cold. There were many sore heads about the place. We rode up to the gallops, few were chatty or in Christmas spirits nursing sore heads. 

There is nothing like working racehorses to clear hungover heads and on the way back home we were singing carols. This caught on with other yards and strings of racehorses were trying to out sing each other. 

Horses done over I wasn't going to do any more riding out or work. I went in and cooked a big traditional English breakfast. The lads started to come in. Most had turned down the idea of eating with a hangover but once inside and smelling bacon cooking, they changed their minds. 

We were to eat our turkey after evening stables. It worked out well, the sprouts were over cooked but everything else was fine. We had not long sat down and eaten the starter when the Missus walked in. She was carrying a Jeroboam of champagne she had won. She thanked us all and proposed a toast to me, saying that there had never been such a dramaless Christmas. 

I blushed and Smithy jumped on it saying, "All the things I have done to make her blush without her turning a hair and all you have to do is thank her!" 

It was a great time when away from family.


----------



## Foxhunter

Smithy was Irish, he was an apprentice jockey. I liked him but he was very immature for his age. Before I had started there he had been going out with Rachel on of he girls, this had finished and both seemed to hate each other. Certainly they were never remotely nice to each other. 

Smithy had tried all he could to embarrass me, to no avail. He was not beyond showing his willy and waving it around. He called me The Wicked Sea Witch, I don't know why but I answered to it rather than let him see it annoyed me. 

On a Thursday it was an easy day for the horses, they were ridden out for long walks, a bit boring but that was the way it went. 

Driving through the area was terrible with so many horses around and Thursdays the worse as so many were on the roads. One vehicle that always passed us was a school bus driven by a woman in her mid twenties. She was always careful going past the strings but never ever smiled or acknowledged our thanks. 
One Thursday I remarked to Smithy as we walked along this and he replied that he would make her smile.

On the way back the bus came towards us, having dropped the children at school, she slowed down, next thing majority of the lads were loudly thanking her and waving their willies at her.

She still didn't change expression! 

On his own Smithy was great to talk to it was when other lads were present that he would show off. 

I was clipping one of his horses. I had him hold the horse as it was very fit and not liking the vibration on his ticklish parts. As Smithy held the leg forward so, all of a sudden he was sticking his willy in my ear, saying, "What would you like to do with this you old Sea witch?" 

Another lad was stood watching. 

What Smithy doesn't know was I had a can of purple spray in my pocket and before he realised I had sprayed his willy purple the other lad and I weremdoubled up laughing. 

That evening doing the feeds Smithy stood on some sacks of oats with his appendage out asking, "What will I tell,Claire tonight?"

My comment was that it had been sterilised. He still kept on about it so, I just said, "Ok lads, you hold him, I'll scrub it clean!" 

Smithy was out that feed room and disappeared into the night. He knew I would carry out my threat. 

One afternoon I was going about my business in the yard when Smithy came across to me, hos face was screwed up and black with temper. He was cussing and shouting at me. I hadn't a clue what he was on about and said so. With that he stopped, put a hand either side of my head and kissed me saying, "I wondered how you would react if someone got really mad with you!" He laughed and walked off. 

He should have been on the stage. 

Smithy rode Garrison Savannah in is first Bumper race and won. He was a popular lad.


----------



## Foxhunter

The lads were always fooling around. Otmwas only high jinks and most were fine with it but there is a line between teasing and bullying. 

A new lad started, Jason. He had been to the jockey school which didn't, back then, give a real picture of life as a lad. Jason was a lovely lad but not worldly wise and very open to being teased and tormented. 

One evening I had gone indoors to clear up from supper, all of a sudden the front door crashed open and Jason came running in like a scared rabbit. He ran into the bathroom and locked the door. I had a fleeting glance of him as he ran past the kitchen door and saw he was covered in purple spray.
Hard on his heels were several older lads intent on getting him. 

That was way over the line and in absolutely no short terms I ripped into them. They went out the door faster than they had come in and disappeared down tomthe pub. 

I told Jason to have a bath. I persuaded him to open the door and handed him a couple,of my towels. I retrieved his clothes which had been sprayed and covered in hoof oil. I stuck them in my washer and fetched him a towelling dressing gown of mine. 

Much later I went to the bathroom door and knocked, no reply. I tried the handle and the door opened. 

Jason had made his escape via the narrow window. 

I ripped into the lads again the next morning and most were quite ashamed of their behaviour and did apologise. 

A couple of months later the lads had been invited to an engagement party. Nearly all were going. I had declined as I had to be up so early. Late morning I asked Jason of he would like to come over and watch a video with me that evening. He accepted. 
The lads were all getting dressed up. I went across to the little bungalow on the pretence of borrowing something, the lads were in their bedrooms getting changed and told me to help myself. I picked up whatever I had asked for and at the same time took the key from the French doors in the living room, making sure the door was locked. I knew they would check the door before leaving but not notice there wasn't a key in the lock.

Jason arrived just after they had all left (about 8) and asked what film we were tomwatch. I told him "No film, we have a job to do." 

I let us into the little bungalow, and we started. I had bought a couple of balls of acrylic wool, the stuff that you need scissors or a knife to break. We wound it round everythin, several times. The chairs were tied to the table, the sofa was wrapped in the stuff,. 
It was like a giant unorganised spider web. 
We moved into the kitchen, did the same thing but this time I fixed it to the handles of drawers so they would fall out and also to saucepans so they would crash down. 

Then we moved to the bedrooms. I had some upholstery sewing needles (the curved ones) and we stitched their bedding to th mattress, lots and lots of little stitches that would be hard to undo. 

Did the same with every pair of their trousers. First halfway down the thigh then below the knee and at the ankles. 

We had finished. I remarked that it was sad we couldn't do anything in the bathroom, there was only a shower, basin and loo in there. As I said it so I thought of something and Jason did too. He ran over to the big bungalow and came back with a roll of cling film. 

We removed all the light bulbs as we went. 

On his return through the front door, we put cling film over the toilet. 

Jason was worried about what the lads would do to him. I assured him that they wouldn't think about him they would know it was me. 

It was well past midnight and I was more than ready for bed. 

My room was in the attic, it was big and usually my bed was at right angles to the door. I knew the boys would come after me and I had to protect myself. Locking the door wasn't really an option as they would probably just smash it down in the room drunken state. 
I dragged my bed so it was against the wall by the door. I had a bucket of cold water with some sponges in it. I left the door ajar with a wash basin with some water in it balanced on the top. 
I removed the hall lights and my main light. I also had my dog with me. 

I heard them come back and pay the taxi. The downstairs lads just crashed out in their rooms. Then the front door opened and I heard talking followed by footsteps supposedly creeping up th stairs. Pie was growling deep down. Words were spoken at the door and then they crashed in throwing a pan of water where my bed once was. Syd, the first into the room missed the basin of water which got Aussie. I started to throw the sponges and both lads crashed down the stairs with Pye nipping their heels. 


Aussie tripped and broke hos toe. 
I leaned over the bannister and just asked, "Anyone have a pee yet?" 

Syd immediately said, "You didn't did you?" 
I assure them I had. Aussie didn't have a clue what we were talking about and went to see. 

Next morning Paddy said he was aware that when he peed it was splashing but hadn't a clue why! They all rode out in their best trousers the next morning, they were hungover, running late and couldn't work out why they couldn't get into their jodhpurs. 

Funny how that seemed to stop their practical jokes with me.


----------



## knightrider

I was waiting and waiting for this post--how you got back at the lads. Fantastic!

But you never said, did you place a bet on Corbiere? Hope you did, and got some money for it.

Also, another question: Where is the best place to be in the field? Seems like the front runners are least likely to get caught up in those horrendous huge crashes of horses and riders. But in the front, loose horses create havoc. Is it best to be way back, avoid all the mess, and then make a run for the front at the end? It didn't look like the original front runners stay there and win. Seems like somebody always comes from behind.


----------



## Foxhunter

I wasn't there when Corky won the National and no, I didn't back him. 

I can promise you that I wouldn't want to be anywhere near those runners! LOL.

Luck plays a big part in the race, the first lap the horses are all wanting to go and go most not knowing it is so long. Speed going into the forst causes many to over jump and cause falls. A fallen horse can bring down another behind it. 

The best place to keep out of trouble would be on the outside. 

As you have seen loose horses can be a big danger, causing refusals and falls. 

In form you have the U - unseated rider. F - fall, B - brought down, R - refusal. 

There was one Natinal where there was a bit of a melee and one jockey, trying to save himself actually pulled off another jockey. 

There have been many horses seriously injured or even killed with a broken neck after a fall. This brings the antis out of the woodwork trying to get it banned.


----------



## Foxhunter

One job that seemed to fall to me was if a horse was on slow work for a reason I had to exercise it on my own. One of these horses was Vivack, he had been coughing and was on just walking exercise. The first few days he was quite nappy and the effort of resisting caused bad coughing fits. 
We soon came to an agreement and he was happy to go out on his own. When he was walking and not coughing I started trotting him, if he coughed I walked. After a couple of weeks he seemed fine. I had trotted him on the road up a good hill with no worries. Next day I cantered him up the same hill and apart from clearing his nose he was fine. 

The Missus asked me how he was and I told her "Fine," she told me to start trotting him. I told her what I had been doing so she said he could do some short work the next day. 

When the board came out telling us what horses we were to ride that day, I was on Vivack third lot. 

_We had a private all weather gallop but the grass gallops were open to all yards. These were on the hills, you entered at the bottom and had the choice of going straight up the hill or going around the bowl making the gallop about 1.5 miles. Often we would canter single file to the start of the bowl, get into our groups of three and then canter around the bowl and then up the hill. The gallop men wouldmset markers out which you had to rode between to preserve the grass. These changed each day._

Here were about ten of us just doing short work. Martin was riding a big grey horse, Smith's Man. This horse was very strong and had the reputation for running away with his jockey. It was the first time Martin had ridden him on the grass. As we walked down to the start Martin was asking us to lay off his horse. (Keeping well back) we were just cantering single file. 
I was about seventh in the line and the moment we started to canter Vivack decided he wasn't going to just work but was going to Win! 
Last thing I wanted to do was to catch up with Martin as he was having his own problems. I was gaining on the big white backside fast! 
I pulled Vivack to the side as we were level with the start of the bowl. He pulled up with no problems expecting others to join him. 
I let them all go up the hill and joined in the back. Vivack was furious he had been conned and refused to do anything more than jog. 
I kept him to the side and jogged to the top. The Missus asked what had happened and I just replied, "He coughed!" 
I was back to taking him out on his own. 

Many of the trainers would have a horse that's they rode to the gallops to watch the horses working. A big dark bay horse arrived as a hack for the Missus. He was a lovely natured horse, not very fit. I clipped him out and rode him out on his own. He was certainly not a racehorse as his schooling was great. 
After a while I had to rode him up the gallops and stand him halfway up the hill to watch the horses gallop past. He did this with no problems being a real gentleman. 

At the top I was asked to give a couple of the young horses a lead over the baby fences. I did this with ease and this horse knew how to jump. He had wanted to slow down over the fences and I had a good idea he had been a show jumper. 
Riding off the jump area there was a single rail about 4' high. As we trotted towards it so this horse pricked his ears eying the rail. I just popped it on him and the old ****** jumped it big bucking and farting on landing. He loved it.

I asked the Missus about him and was told that the horse was called Harvester, known as Harvey to us, a top international show jumper.


----------



## Foxhunter

I was busy clipping, I had to stay with a horse that had the threat of a 'leg' whilst he stood in a jacuzzi, a thick plastic tub that you filled with water, attached a motor and bubbles circulated the water. 

The horse, Kevin Evans, loved it and as I would be setting it up in his doorway he would be trying to step into it. 

I couldn't see the point it standing there reading a book when I could be clipping so I started clipping a horse just across from Kev. He was meant to have 45-60 minutes treatment but longer was better. 

I periodically looked at him he was always just stood there, I had. Rope across his door, eating his hay and watching thenday pass by. All of a sudden I heard the Missus yell my name. I stopped clipping and looked out. Kev had walked under the rope and had his back legs in then jacuzzi! 
I was told, "It's hos bloody front legs that need treating not his back ones!" 

She did see the funny side of it though.


----------



## Foxhunter

I told was a busy day with several lads away with the horses racing. Two lads, Wayne and Ross who lived in the house in the village came to me to say that Wayne had overheard the Missus talking about me supplying the lads in the big bungalow with some hash. 
This wasn't true. 

Yes, they had one night smoked hash. It was up to them. I might be in charge of them outside but thisnwas also their home and I didn't have the right to tell them what to do. 

I sweated over this all afternoon and decided that I would get my say in before the Missus brought it up. As we did the stables so the two lads kept on about it. It went a bit over the top and I realised I had been conned. 

I cussed them both and swore revenge. 

Some weeks before Wayne had a weekend off as his brother was getting married. I drove, on the Sunday night, to pick him up from the railway station. On our trip,back he was telling me how he had met a girl at the wedding and had gone back to her place that night and had nearly missed the last train as they had barely got out of bed. 

I left things for a while and then one night decided to go to the pub in the village with them. The place was packed. I was sat at a table near the bar, Wayne, Ross another lad and Chancey were stood at the bar. A smart looking girl came in and looked around. No one knew her. She walked around a bit looking for someone and finally spotted Wayne. 
"Wayne, I need a word with you please."
"Yes darling, what about?" 
"In private." 
"These are my friends you can say whatever in front of them."
"I'm pregnant!"
"Congratulations."
"It is yours." 
The colour drained from Wayne's face as he spluttered, "I don't even know you!" 
"Your brother's wedding. You promised you'd help me if things weren't wrong."
With that she burst into tears and ran for the ladies room. 
Everyone had heard. The pub had gone from a bustling noise to a deathly silence. Wayne was at a loss for words. I got up and asked if I could help. He asked me to go talk to her. 
I went into the ladies - as did many others to ear wig, I found the girl and spoke quietly to her. She grabbed me and started sobbing on my shoulder, uttering, "I can't have an abortion I don't believe in it I am a Catholic." 
Other girls dashed out to relay the gossip. 

Eventually we walked out and I suggested to Wayne that we go back to the big bungalow and talk things out. 

Ross and Chancey came too. Other lads returned from their evening out and joined in the conversation. 

Wayne really didn't know what to do. He was sweating bricks. I went to the loo and the youngest household member Jonny followed me and said, "This isn't for real, I bet she's a friend of yours!" 

It got to just after midnight, I was tired and I stood up saying, "Dolly, I'm going to bed now. I have to be up in the morning." 

Dolly stood up and held a hand out to Wayne saying, "That was a fun evening wasn't it? Nice meeting you Wayne!" 

There were several times during the session I felt sorry for him. The look on his face was a picture. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.


----------



## Foxhunter

Ross left as he had accepted a job at a flat stable as travelling head lad. 

I knew the head lad Len, there well.

During one evening stables the police arrived and arrested Ross for dealing in stolen furniture. 
Ross would go to auctions or secondhand shops and buy furniture he would work on it and resell. He was good at it and made quite a lot of profit. 

As they led him, handcuffed and protesting innocence, to the car he asked, "Who told you I had anything to do with furniture?" 
The Cop replied, "Linda!" 

I got him too, not for as long as Wayne but he was had. 

Pays to know all sorts of people, cops included.

This was soon rife around the village and lads looked at me in a different light.


----------



## boots

You won't need to remind me to not give you cause to seek revenge!


----------



## Foxhunter

I have been told I make a great friend and a bloody enemy! 

Way back when I was about ten, Mum bought me a new jacket. I was out walking the dogs on the beach when a younger lad threw some crabs they had killed all over me. It stained the jacket forever. I swore revenge. 

It was about seven years later. I was again walking the dogs and met with the same lad. He was very good looking and had joined the Royal Navy, it was his first furlough and he was walking about in his uniform which, back then, had very flare bottom trousers. 
We walked along the esplanade chatting and as we got near the boating lake I did think about shoving him in. I decided against.

Until

He said "Do you remember when I threw that crab at you?" 
"I certainly do," I said as I shoved him in. He went in sideways, lost his balance and went right under. The water wasn't deep, about 2'6" 

I just walked on.

You could walk around the boating lake, one side was parallel to the sea wall. As children when the sea was rough it would crash against the wall and splash right over. We would dodge the waves. 
If it was rough and doing this in the summer tourists would join in the fun. We would edge them down without them realising it so when they ran, usually backwards, they ended up in the boating lake, even if they didn't the wave got them! 

We were such pleasant children. 

Heck if we did it today someone would make money recording it!


----------



## Foxhunter

One morning we had quite a lot of snow. The horses were ridden in the field causing quite a lot of reaction, bucking and messing around. You soon saw who had a good seat and who didn't! 

After the snow the gallops were closed. Roads were cleared and salted and so that is where we rode out for several days. One horse, whose name I cannot recall, was hated by the lads. He would be catering sideways whilst others were walking. He was always wound up. This caused him to break out in a sweat in the stable and the lad who was doing him was always angry with him resulting in a bitter horse that wou,d get you the moment you took your eyes off him. 

Smithy was down to rode this horse and I offered to swap, he jumped at the chance. I used my bridle on him with a cheek snaffle, I also used my hunting saddle rather than an exercise saddle. 
Sure enough he started getting wound up as soon as we left the yards. Instead of getting annoyed I just pulled up on his neck strap and scratched his neck. It took a while but he was soon walking, and what a walk, nothing could keep up with him. 

I didn't have any horses to look after as such but I took to doing this horse and in a few days he was much happier and relaxed, no longer coming out in a cold sweat and not bad tempered. 

The all weather gallop was salted and we could use it. It was 10 furlongs long. The first three were up a sheepish hill, you swung round a left corner on the flat then the ground dipped, rose again before another dip and then levelled out. 

As we went onto the gallop so the Missus called into question my still being on this horse as he was notorious for running away. 

I was right at the back, we cantered up the hill and he was fine, as soon as we hit the first dip he started to go. I took a pull which made him go faster and fight the bridle. 
My brain then went into gear, I pulled on the neck strap, scratched his neck and pulled his ear and he dropped back and settled. 

We turned at the end and in a mob hack cantered back to the top of the hill, I couldn't believe that he just lobbed along, head down totally relaxed. We cantered along again with no tension. 

When we were on the grass gallops I was still riding him. We had to canter the first stretch, pull up get into our threes and canter around the bowl before going up the hill. This horse was renowned for running away and because he did he ran out of steam going up the hill. 

It was still bitterly cold that morning. I was working with two other mediocre horses. I kept to the back of the three until we went through the markers and going up the hill. As I was at the back I took the inside on the left, lead horse was on the right. 
As soon as you are upsides the horses know they are going to run, I had a double handful as I got in position, once lined together we increased the pace before opening up. 
At the top of the hill I was lengths up on the other two. 

Next bit of work he was with two better horses and again he was way ahead of them. The Missus remarked that I should get a lisence to race ride him. 

Two good horses and he was with them all the way. 

Next time Paddy was to ride him. As soon as he saw the board he asked how to get him settled, I told him and the horse worked well. 
Next the Missus put her son on him. I was delighted to see the horse hook off with him! I had no time for her son. Henwas big headded and when I was riding one horse I just didn't get on with, I asked him what best way to get him settled and was told, "If you don't know how to ride the bloody thing, you shouldn't be here." 

There is nothing quite so thrilling as riding great fit horses on a cold crisp morning, feeling the power they have, a balance of hands and horse's head, legs aching as they balance you. Goggles on but eyes still watering so the tears freeze on your cheeks. Unable to wipe snot from your face because changing hands would give the horse the signal to go. 
Stirrups chinking exercise sheets flapping as you are alongsid. Horses high blowing, steam from their nostrils and sweat, and then opening your fingers and feeling them go into overdrive, eating up the ground with ease each and every stride. 

That is exhilarating.


----------



## Foxhunter

One morning the young horses were to go up enall weather for a canter. This was last lot. 

The Missus was going racing and we didn't think she would be there to watch. 
We trotted up the hill and started to canter along the top when, from the back we heard Smithy calling out, "Lay over!" 

This indicated to those ahead that someone was unable to hold their horse and to pull over to the left to let them go past rather than running into another horse. 
Most of us had gone down the dipmas Smithy came charging past doing a moony. We were all over the place shrieking with laughter than as we got to the top of the Rose we could see the Missus standing there watching. Of course this made us laugh even more as Smithy struggled to get his jodhpurs pulled up. 

........................

I was riding another young horse up thenall weather on a different day. We were nearing the end when I heard a thump, like something hitting a pile of cushions hard. 
The horse swerved to the right, hit the rails and then went left. I had heard this noise twice before and both tims the horse died under me. 
I quickly quit my stirrups as he staggered from side to side. Lads behind were cussing me. I quickly jumped off him and ran alongside him for a couple of strides until he stopped. 

I have never seen a horse bleed from his nostrils as this one did. Both sides were pouring blood and he was snorting trying to clear himself. I was covered as was anything else around him. 
He put his head down and the blood flowed freely. I sent all bar one of the others back and told them to call the vet and get transport to get the horse back. 

Over the years I realise that a little blood goes a long way and generally a horse is not going to bleed to death but this one I was certain would. 

After about ten minutes the flow slowed, I led him to the end of the gallop and onto the track. A horsebox arrived and we quickly loaded both horses up. 
The vet arrived about ten minutes after we got back. I had gone indoors to change my clothes. 
The bleeding had totally stopped by then and someone had washed the horse down. Barry, the vet didn't think it was much of a bleed. I disagreed with him and as he knew me from Mary's he half believed it. I ran and fetched my blood sodden clothes to show him and as I had only been in a body warmer rather than a jacket you could wring the blood from my sweaters. 

Barry realised this was something other than a normal bleed. He wouldn't scope the horse because he was worried he might start the bleeding again. The horse was given several bags of fluids. 
After several days box rest he was walked out and brought back into work. He never bled again even when racing. 

..................................................

A new lad arrived from Eire. He had to go through the initiation ceremony when evening stables were done. I left them to it, the lad was old enough to take whatever. 

The Missus had been racing and arrived back. I went to report to her on the evening check up. I walked into the kitchen and she said, "I could have sworn I have just seen a stark naked lad run in front of the car! 

I just asked her if she had been drinking! 

"................................
The Missus had four dogs, a Rottweiler, a golden retriever, and two little dogs that were of the same parentage but different littler. They were Yorkshire Terrier x Chihuahua. The dog was big for his breeding and looked nothing like either parent, the ***** Blue looked more Chihuahua and was the Missus's baby. 
One of the dogs showed signs of mange. I was given the task of bathing them with something from the vet. This had to be done twice, the second time ten days after the first. 

I mixed up the wash in a 5 gallon bucket. Did the three male dogs and went to find Blue. No one in the house would fetch her as she was on the Missus's chair in the lounge. 
I walked in and Blue looked at me, as I approached she started to growl. I ignored her and went to the magazine rack by the chair. Blue just turned her back to me and laid down. I grabbed her by the scruff and carried her outside at arms length. 
Oh boy, that dog couldmswear better than the Missus! 
I put her back end in the bucket and sponged her lower half, I tried to do the top half but the teeth were out to get me. I picked the bucket up and dunked her head first into it, a quick swirl around and she was done. 
As I did this the Missus called out, "You are meant to washing her, not (expletive) drowning her! 

Ten days later I did the dogs again, boys first. Blue was again in the lounge. I asked the Missus if she would fetch her but she wanted a laug and told me to go get her. 
When she started to grown at me I just said "Eh!" She stopped and allowed me to pick her up and carry her nicely through the kitchen. 

This time she sat in the bucket and I could sponge her off with no objection.


----------



## knightrider

I have really been enjoying the videos of the Grand National races and have a few questions. If you were riding the race, would you keep your horse in the middle or the front? Why would jockeys have their horses running in the front the whole beginning of the race when it seems the front runners never win? Seems like the winning horses always come from mid pack to win. Since I have not watched 50 Grand National races, I don't know. Do the front runners at times stay in front the whole race?

Also, at the end of the race, after a very close race, it seems like the front runner then surges ahead to win by many lengths. Do the second and third runners slack off at the very end because they know they can't pass the winner and there was no one close behind them? Do they slack off at the end or do the horses just "give up" when they see the horse surging in front of them?

Have you ever wanted to race ride? How close have you come to race riding? I remember reading about some races you did with friends.


----------



## Foxhunter

Some horses will settle well in the pack, others will fight to get to the front, it is best to get a horse to settle so they conserve energy. This is the same in every race. 

The chances of falling in the pack are greater, a horse falling in front of you can bring your horse down or, their movement of trying to avoid can unseat the rider. The first circuit the jockeys just try to settle their mounts and hack around, keeping safe. 

Running in front a horse can get 'lonely' for want of a better word and not see the point in running hard when others are way behind. The most sensational case of this was when Red Rum won his first National. 
There was a big ditterence in the weight carried between the two.







As for me racing, the nearest I came to it was as a child pony racing which was banned after that, not because of anything I did but because it wasn't all to often rigged (I believe)


----------



## Foxhunter

Sometimes you get horses that are phenomenal and they just hate to loose. These animals catch the hearts of the public. 

As I said earlier, the two races any jockey, trainer or owner want to win are Cheltenham Gold Cup (or any of the bigger races at the Cheltenham Festival Meeting held in March, and the Grand National. 

Way back a very good horse Golden Miller was thought to be unbeatable. Although bred in Ireland he was owned and trained in the U.K. then a young pretender appeared, a horse called Arkle, born, bred and trained in Eire. 

They met five times, Arkle, still a comparative novice, made a blunder at the last fence and was beaten. After that he won every time they met. 

In his last race Arkle was beaten to be second, and it was later found he had broken his pedal bone. He never recovered from it and was euthanised when he was still of racing age, 

Dawn Run was another phenomenal runner, she won the Champion Hurdle and later the Gold Cup. Not always the best of jumpers she just hated to be beaten. 

I remember the Missus telling us that Dawn Run had been killed racing in France in a hurdle race. One of her jockeys, Jonjo O'Neil was renowned for saying the the wrong mare died, referring to her owner who was always wanting to over race the mare. The mare had had a great season and sending her to France when jump racing had basically finished here, was just to grab another substantional win. 

Another horse that was well up in the public eye was Dessert Orchid, a flamboyant grey that always gave his best. He too won the Gold cup. He was a horse that would rather run right handed than left. 

There have been many great jumpers over the years possibly the greatest steeplechaser ever was Arkle, he certainly won his races with ease. 

This is his first Gold Cup, only four runners as few horses stood a chance of beating either of the horses and were entered in other races. Mill House was a great racehorse but Arkle was even better. 

A bigger than life statue to Arkle stands at Cheltenham to honour him, that's how good he was for an all Irish horse to be immortalised on an English racecourse says something to his greatness.


----------



## Dragoon

Holey moley! What a race! Incredible finish!

What struck me right away, was that Arkle was a lot smaller than Mill House, and carrying a LOT bigger jockey! 
Didn't stop him though!


----------



## Foxhunter

Weight is what stops them not the height of the jockeys. Mill House was carrying more weight than Arle. 
When Arkle started running in Eire and did so well they changed the rules so they could add more weight to him to even up for other horses to compete against him. 

That would be like a distance runner carrying 4lbs of sugar.


----------



## Foxhunter

It was the last big meeting of the season at Sandown Park. There were a lot of meeting elsewhere. I think it was six of the young horses having their first race in Bumpers (flat races for jump bred horses) as well as many running at other courses. 

This meant we were very short on staff back in the yards. All the apprentices were riding, lads to lead the horses up depleted us down to about ten to do all the work. 

Now, my betting had paid off, I had gradually built up the account to just over £500 over the course of the season. When we had been discussing the young horses weeks prior, Paddy had said to me that he thought Chatanoogachoochoo was the best. I hadn't rated this horse at all. Paddy's words at the time were, "If I get to ride that horse I will put my **** on him to win." 

As there was a lot to do for evening stables as much as possible had been done prior. Bran mashes were made up and in the barrows covered with blankets cooking, all beds had been topped up. 

Paddy did get the ride on Choochoo and as he is not allowed to bet in a race he is riding in, I asked him if he wanted me to put money on the horse. He said not. Wayne had ridden him work previously and said he was useless. 

I nipped down to the village and the bookies. The horses were in great form and I had several I fancied plus some from other stables. I filled out my betting slips doing wins, each way, doubles, trebles and yankees I was surprised when the total was just over £80! I was about to leave and thought, "what the hell," turned and put £10 on Choochoo to win, put more money with him to make a double and treble and, had a bet that the yard would have five winners. This took my bet to over £100, my logic being that I should cover my costs and the remaining money in the bank was still well in profit. (Never bet more than you can afford to loose)

Come evening stables instead of allotting several horses to each lad I told one to do all the haying up, another to do the skipping out, another to do the watering the rest would do the horses over. They didn't like this idea but, it worked and soon the new yard was done and we fed them their mashes. 
We moved across to the other yards, the bungalows divided the yards and I nipped indoors, put the teletext on and saw that Choochoo had won. Esherness had also won his section of the Bumper earlier and other horses had also won. 

Non of the lads believed me when I told them, no one had backed him. 

I had cooked two pots of stew for supper. Lads returning from the races were invited to come eat for a small fee. 

I was rolling up some dumplings to go in the stew pots when Sean came in. I asked him if he would go through my slips and see what I had won. He took them from the draw and sat at the kitchen table. Next he asked me for a pen. 
Now Sean wasn't the brightest penny but when it came to betting odds, snooker or darts he was excellent at math! He was deathly quiet, a couple of times went to the lounge to see the teletext returned and continued to scribble on my newspaper. Which he then tore up and burnt in an ashtray.

Finally he got up. I was clearing up at the sink and he slipped the slips into the back pocket of my jeans saying, "Keep that lot with you and do NOT go to the bookies Monday on your own." 

I did keep the slips with me and when I went to the bookies three of the lads came with me to collect their winnings. I knew I had more than covered my costs, Choochoo alone starting at 50/1 had brought home £500. Only one slip was not a winner. 

I walked out from the bookies with over £8,000. Majority of the starting prices had been low on most of the horses, several had been hot favourites, but doing them in multiples ot all added up. We did have five winners so that too was good odds. 

I put most of the money straight into the bank, put a more than fair sum behind the bar in the local for the lads to have a drink and kept the rest towards another car.

I almost forgot, I had put £10 on for Paddy. When he came in for his stew I told him he owed me a tenner. He never asked what for but gave me the money. I gave him his winnings on the Monday.


----------



## Foxhunter

As the season wound down so the horses were let down and roughed off ready to spend May, June and July out in fields. Some horses went back to owners but most went to rented land with someone knowledgeable to check on them daily. 

I had to do the inventories for just about everything from e houses to tack, rugs and the houses. Rugs were all stored in an old railway carriage. They all had to be washed and dried (not down to me thankfully!) 

In the old yard there was an ornamental well, it was filled with water from a tap, it made it quicker to fill buckets. The problem was that if it was your birthday you ended up in e well. 
I wasn't silly and hadn't told anyone it was my birthday so was safe. The Missus was two days after mine. When she came out to the near empty yards I wished her Happy Birthday. Not many knew it to be so. She sat on the wall of the well and we chatted about things in general. 
I remarked as I stood up to carry on with my work, "Your brace sitting there today!" 
"They wouldn't dare!" She laughed. 
"True, "says I, "but I would!" I gave her a shove and she toppled backwards into the water. She surfaced spluttering and cussing and finally said, "I knew as soon as the words were out my mouth what you intended!" 

She took it in good spirit. 

On going to do the inventory in the little bungalow I opened the corner cupboard in the kitchen to find it filled with empty Foster's Lager cans. I was told it was Aussie's homesick cupboard, he would look at it and think of home. 

I went to fetch some sacks to put the cans in and then changed my mind. I went into town and got a large cardboard box that had once been filled with soap powder. It was about five feet in length and breadth and three high. I stacked all the cans in there and it was filled, bar one gap. In that I put an empty can of Guinness which was what I would occasionally drink. 
I taped it up, got address labels to stick on it and all the lads thought it was hysterical to send it to Australia and chipped in with the postage which wasn't much as it was comparatively light. 

I also placed a note on there to both customs and the postman saying it was a joke and asking that the customs label be removed. 

Later we heard that Aussie had returned home from work and found a message about a parcel waiting for him. He went and collected it wondering what the heck ot was and who from. He said he sat in the lounge and undid it and roared when he saw all the empty cans. He knew whose idea it was to send them.


----------



## Foxhunter

This is a different view of the Nationsl.

Mary tested head cams before the filming of The Champions they were so heavy and difficult to balance on your head.


----------



## Foxhunter

Sadly this does happen. 

A gallant horse doing a job he knew and loved.


----------



## knightrider

These videos of races were so interesting to me that I started researching Grand National myself so I could stop bugging @Foxhunter with questions. One thing I looked at was the number of horses that died in the race. After seeing some spectacular falls, I wondered how the horses fared after they fell. Aintree designers decided to make the jumps and the course safer, but it resulted in more deaths because the horses could then run faster.

From Wikipedia:
The Grand National is a National Hunt handicap race over a distance of 4 miles 3½ furlongs and over 30 fences at Aintree Racecourse near Liverpool. The high number of equine deaths in the race has made it a target for animal rights activists. While course officials have repeatedly taken safety measures over the years, such as improving veterinary facilities and reducing the severity of fences,[4] some have campaigned for further modifications or the abolition of the event that was inaugurated in 1839.


After the 1989 Grand National, in which two horses died in incidents at Becher's Brook (the sixth and 22nd fence on the course), Aintree began making significant changes to the fences that are jumped during the National. The brook on the landing-side of Becher's was filled in to prevent horses rolling back into it, and the incline on the landing-side has been mostly levelled out, whilst retaining a drop to slow the runners. Other fences have been reduced in height, toe-boards have been made taller, and the entry requirements for participating horses have been made stricter, such as the requirement for runners to have been placed fourth or better in a previous recognised steeplechase over a distance of at least three miles. 
Some within the horseracing community, including some with notable achievements in the Grand National, such as Ginger McCain and Bob Champion,[6][7][8] have argued that the lowering of fences and the narrowing of ditches, primarily designed to increase horse safety, has had the adverse effect by encouraging the runners to race faster. During the 1970s and 1980s the Grand National saw a total of 12 horses die (half of which were at Becher's Brook); in the next 20-year period from 1990 to 2010, when modifications to the course were most significant, there were 17 equine fatalities. 

Another question I was interested in, was How many loose horses are injured? Answer: quite a few. Having a rider on their back does not seem to increase the danger of them being killed.

I tried to post the chart on Wikipedia, but it was much too long in copy and paste form, so if you are interested, you can Google it yourself. I learned a whole lot. Again, thank you Foxhunter, for opening up this fascinating subject! I am amazed at the number of people who are brave enough to ride this race.

Check out the number of women who have ridden in the Grand National and how they fared!


----------



## knightrider

I also am fascinated with stories of horses, especially thoroughbreds, that run themselves to death. (Appaloosas would NEVER!) Most people don't know that George Washington killed a horse by running it to death. His mother spent most of her life trying to breed the perfect horse. She had a colt out of her favorite mare and a much admired stallion that she thought was going to be the epitome of her dream.

When the colt was 2 1/2, George Washington's brother made a dare that George wouldn't be brave enough to ride the spirited unbroken colt. George took the dare, rode the colt, who galloped on and on until he dropped dead. George was in a WHOLE lot more trouble than when he chopped down the cherry tree.


----------



## Foxhunter

One never knows if a horse has a weakness in its aorta which can rupture at any time. 

I have had four horses drop dead under me, not under any particular stress although all moving. I have also had two brood mares die from ruptures of major blood vessels. 

I cannot remember who it was but a horse died doing its lap of honour at Badminton Horse Trials. 
Back then it was near 20 miles on the second day with two lots of roads and tracks, steeplechase and the cross country. These horses are vetted before starting and after the second day. This horse couldn't have been fitter. 

Fred Winter who both won the National and trained winners there, always took the inside track. He fell at Beechers Brook and dislocated his neck and couldn't move. He said that the worse part was just lying there waiting for a horse to land on him.

One year there were a lot of protestors at the Aintree meeting, no horses died at all yet that had been a bad year at Cheltenham where several horses had died or been euthanised. More than once screens have been put up and after many minutes, sometimes twenty, the horse has got to its feet having been severely winded. 

At all race courses here the race is tracked by an ambulance, doctor and a vet.


----------



## gottatrot

Hickstead also died of an aortic aneurysm. I watched him jump at the WEG in 2010. He was incredible.


----------



## Foxhunter

All through he racing fraternity there are competitions between the lads. One lad that joined us had won the boxing championships so no one was going to mess with him! 

Every spring there was a local inter stables challenge. This consisted of races of all types, most totally not serious. It was very popular and many people came to watch and support. 
This year they had a bungy jump, not part of the competitions I hasten to add! I don't know how high the tower was, probably only fifty feet or so. Either way it was high enough for it to be frightening. 
I challenged several of the lads to have a go which was emphatically denied. Here were these lads and jockeys quite prepared to jump big fences at speed knowing that they could be maimed or even killed and they wouldn't do something that, although frightening, assumed to be safe. 

The inevitable happened and they challenged me. I refused on the grounds it was to expensive. Next thing they clubbed together and handed me the ticket. 

Now, if I have a fear it is of fear itself taking over me. I didn't really want to do this but I couldn't chicken out I would never live it down. 

I went to where the steps led to the top. There was an older man in front of me who I realised was Lord John Oaksy, a race commentator for Channel 4. He asked me what made me do this and I replied telling him I couldn't chicken out in front of the lads. He replied that much the same had happened with him and his co presenters. 
I will say the view from the top was fantastic. We were harnessed up and had our ankles tied together ropes clipped on, the rail removed and together we fell backwards towards earth. 

At the bottom we were both relieved saying how fantastic it was and more than grateful we didn't need a laundry change.


----------



## Foxhunter

Here is a fun one of the determination of jockeys not to taste the sod.


----------



## Foxhunter

Going way back! 

I don't think I have written about this one from the early days.

Jean and Johnny had two horses, Sinbad and Jemima, bit good animals in their own right. They were hunted regularly and hacked out, always together. 

The two horses were married together, Jemima being more so than Sinbad. Every winter they came to the riding school when their owners went off skiing. 
Every winter we took great delight in making them separate and go alone, or down on the beach make them pass each other not allowing them to swing towards each other. It didn't take anything more than form riding and The odd boot in the ribs. 

Of course as soon as they went him hey were joined at the hip. 

One day out hunting, we were having a good run. We had come up a road and were going into forestry land. The gate was locked and stood about 5', at an angle to it, forming a shallow V was a style much lower, no more than 3'6" if that. 
What we were doing was riding past the gate turning right and popping the style. As this was single file most of the Field were queuing up on the road for their turn. 
Johnny popped the style, Jemima saw her partner disappearing into the trees and charged at the gate. She then stopped dead sending Jean straight over her head. 

It is a fall I will never forget, Jen went off like a human cannonball, she never put out an arm to,save herself just absolutely rigid. 
She landed face first on the Flint track, fortunately she was knocked out. Her face was a total mess, looking as if someone had tried to skin her alive, luckily her hunting cap took a lot of the impact. 

She took a while to get over that and although she did ride again she wasn't enjoying it somshe sold Jemima.


----------



## Foxhunter

Most of the lads were finished for two or three months, I was there until mid June before going home for a much earned break. 

My sister had been in Saudi Arabia for three years. There she met a Canadian and they were tying the knot in September. I had told the Missus this and requested a long weekend. At the time it was fine but then she said I could have the Saturday off and that was it. 

I had been thinking about the job, I enjoyed it, the camaraderie and the messing around but my forte was always with the problem animals and youngsters. I decided to hand in my notice and find something new. 

Now, my sister and I are chalk and cheese, she was a perfectionist and would want everything spot on for her big day. Arranging a wedding from afar wasn't easy. She had been home at Easter, found her wedding dress, organised the bridesmaid dresses by finding a pattern and material, booked the church and the venue for the meal. 

Mum was getting herself in a right state over it all. Knowing what Sally was like she was terrified of not getting something right. I decided to stay at home for the summer, easy to get hotel work and take the reins. 

I was making the wedding cake. (Here we have a very rich fruit cake) and I made that in the June, wrapped it in foil and periodically injected it with Brandy. 
Sally had bought her veil but on getting it home found some pearls were missing so had sent it back. The new one arrived and I checked it over. I carefully folded it and replaced it in the box. I thought I would put it in a dresser in my father's bedroom but on opening a drawer it smelled of some sort of perfume. Mum had a habit of placing bars of unopened soap in wardrobes and drawers. I then put it on top pf Dad's wardrobe. 
A couple of weeks later Mum asked where the veil was. I told her where, she informed me it wasn't there. I looked, it wasn't. I looked in all the bedrooms, no veil. Mum was in a state over this and blaming me for loosing it. Normally a very sane and sensible woman, she was so het up over this she wasn't sleeping. 
My Aunt walked in and I asked her if she had the veil. She did, Mum had given it to her the day after I had stashed it!

I had the cake made, would marzipan and ice it nearer the day. I made masses and masses of sugar flowers to decorate it with. So, once that was done, I was soon bored. 

Mum was cooking lunch and I saw that some of the panelling by the side of the cooker was loose so I pulled it off. 
"What the heck are you doing?" Mum screamed at me. 
"Well you want the kitchen remodelled so I'll do it. Nothing better to do!"
I went to pull another piece of panel off the wall and got slapped across the arm for my troubles. "Wait until I have finished cooking!"

Mum was worried what Dad would say when he came in. I assured her he wouldn't notice. He didn't. He had a funeral to go to somwent to get changed into hos pall bearers outfit and left. 
When he came back all that was left in the kitchen was the AGA cooker, the gas cooker and the sink. Everything else, including all the panelling was dumped in the yard. 
Dad walked in and his words were "What's happening here?" 
I told him I was going to do the kitchen up and he just said, "Well, we had best level the floor first." 

So, I spent my time remodelling Mum's kitchen. I rewired, put in more sockets, built cupboards, adjusted the height of the units, painted, tiled and papered. 
My deign had to allow for two dog beds and a parrot cage. 
Bragging I will say it looked good when finished. 
I had a big row with Dad as he started to bodge things and it made me mad. I threw a hammer at him to drive home my annoyance. He left me alone after that, helping by telling me how to do something - if asked - and getting bits and pieces I needed. 

It whiled away the hours. 

A local woman was making the bridesmaids dresses. Sally was just having three girls, my cousin's eldest a friend's daughter and another cousins daughter. That left Rachel, my cousin's youngest, she was only three and painfully shy. She would only stay with her parents or mine. It took her all summer before she would talk to me although a lot of that was stubbornness. 
I asked the dressmaker if she could make a fourth dress out of the material she had. She could and did.

So, Sally came home a week before her wedding, she went for her dress fitting and checked everything else. 
All good. 
Henry her husband was Canadian and had family and friends coming for the wedding, His family were to stay in Sally's house, his friends and a couple from Germany in mine. Sally was staying at Mum's with four of her friends from Saudi. That was it, I had no bed! 

I ended up,staying with a family friend across the road, Aunty Eve. 

The wedding went off really well, it was at 10 a.m. which was the only time she could get the church, we moved from there to the reception and had a wonderful meal at the correct ime. The evening 'do' was at cousin Gill and her hubby Paul's hotel. 
That was a real blast.


----------



## Foxhunter

Via friend Sue, I heard that a friend of hers had been working for a man whose passion was National Hunt racing. He was leaving and they were looking for a replacement. 

I called and was told that the position was really for a couple, the woman to help clean three days a week in the house. 

I went for an interview and liked the boss, he was open and questioned me about many things. Asked if I minded if he checked references and then came up with a question I had never heard anyone being asked before, "What would be the worse thing about employing you?" 

I had to think about that one, he waited whilst my brain whirled, eventually I said, "Probably that your horses will no longer be yours but mine." 

He laughed and said he didn't think that was a bad thing. 

I then went and had a cup of tea with his wife and her Aunt in the garden and then asked if I would come on a weeks trial. I agreed and started on the Monday after the wedding. 

Living accommodation was in a converted barn. Three bedrooms, a large lounge/dining area, bathroom and kitchen. The couple that had been working there were staying and I was in one of the spare rooms. 

On the Wednesday they just packed up and left. The boss was at work and Mrs Boss also way. There was nothing I could do about stopping them. I was left a list of phone numbers, farrier, vet, feed merchant and a couple of farmers who would supply hay and straw. That was it, they were gone - taking most of the furniture with them. 

I was left with a bed and that was it, nothing to cook or eat with or to sit on. 

When Mrs Boss arrived back I told her what had happened. She immediately sorted through a few essentials from her kitchen. Garde furnitur gave me seating and a table. 

I called Mum and she made arrangements to have my furniture sent up from my house which I was going to rent out. 

My weeks trial lasted for 25 years. 

There was a young woman, Jan who worked part time. She lived locally and knew the rides. 

The horses were mainly racehorses getting fit to go back into training. There was one brood mare, Breeze, her yearling, and a couple of youngsters bought in Eire on the advice of his trainer. 

The stables were six in one barn at right angles to my cottage, and six more from converted milking parlour. What there wasn't was storage space! I could only get in about fifty bales of hay ditto of straw in at a time. 

I called the farmer who had been bringing the hay and straw, John, whomwas only about a mile down the road. He came round and after a short chat he asked me how much I wanted each load. This shocked me as it was something I would never have thought of doing. The man before me had been taking £25 per load brought in. 
I told him that I didn't want anything, I thought it dishonest. We shook hands and did a deal on cost and delivery. 

Riding around there was the worse I have ever come across! There were no off road tracks, busy main roads (we were between two motorways) and nothing that I would call a hill! 
The Boss rode out each morning before he went off to work. We basically went the same way every day, it was boring and monotonous. After first lot Jan and I would sometimes load up two horses in the trailer and go to somewhere a few miles away where we could get off road. 

Three days a week I would clean in the house. Not difficult at all. 

_Mrs Boss had been married before and had three sons, the eldest was in London, the middle on in Australia and the youngest at university. Their daughter, Camillla was at boarding school. _

So, it was the start of a new venture.


----------



## Foxhunter

I had been working for about six weeks. I would feed and muck out, Jan would come in around 6.30 and we would rode out with the boss around 7 a.m. 

It was getting to be dark at 7 bit by cutting across the fields and wearing high viz clothing we were safe on the back roads. It wasn't ideal as this was the computer belt and majority of people were totally uncounteyfied, they hadn't a clue. 

I had gone to bed around 9.30 and was awoken by the wind rattling the sides of the barn. Having grown up where I had and my bedroom facing West to the prevailing wind (nothing but a pane of glass keeping me from the elements) I could sleep through most things. 
I was again woken with the wind and I thought two things, first that I hoped those at sea would be safe and this wasn't any ordinary storm. 
I got up to have a cup of tea, the lights were flickering on and off, I managed to get the kettle boiled and also filled a thermos flask and went back to bed. 

The wind got worse and I thought that I should go close the big doors to the main barn to stop the wind getting under the roof and lifting it. I donned a dressing gown. I just pushed the door handle down and it flew open. I needed both hands to pull it shut, in the barn everything was rattling. I managed to get both doors closed when I realised the the rattling was the wind under the roof tiles. These tiles are about 18" square, terracotta type material and very heavy. 
I knew that if one blew off and hit me I could be a bonnet so I fetched my helmet from the tackroom and donned that. 

I did do and stand in the middle of the lawn and in an eerie light could see the tiles on my roof undulating all along like waves rippling, I got indoors, I had to put my back to the door to close it, no sooner had I done so there was an almighty crash and the tiles had come off. 

I couldn't get back to sleep listening to trees coming down. I had the radio on tuned to the police frequency and all seemed to be total chaos with trees down, houses having lost their roofs, a pregnant woman on Labour and the ambulance couldn't reach her because of fallen trees. 

At 5 I couldn't see the point in getting up, it was pitch black and so I stayed in bed and finally nodded off. 

The Boss knocked on my door around 7. "You never told me the tiles had come off your roof!" Were his first words.
"Well, I was t going to call you and say, that the tiles were off my roof - what could you do about it?"
He just laughed and saw my point. "Did you over sleep?"
"Not really I wouldn't be able to see anything." 
"Well, tack up and we'll rode out to see what damage there has been done." 
"There's absolutely no point, to many trees down we won't get anywhere." 
He didn't believe me so went to the road to look. Sure enough trees were down across the road blocking everything. 

Jan finally appeared an hour late. Unbelievably she and her husband had not heard a thing! Dom had got up to catch his train to London to be told they weren't running. Jan had tried to drive as normal only to then hear on the radio that a hurricane had it central southern England, travelling up to London before dissipating. The damage was phenomenal. 

Mrs Boss wasn't to pleased that she had no phones or electricity, for some reason my phone was still working. That annoyed her even more! 
We were lucky in having power restored that day, others in the area were a week or so before they got it back. 

Jan and I cleared the tree blocking the road to the fields and later we rode out, we didn't get far and ended up cantering around the re were magnificent oak trees, 3 or 4 hundred years old not only uprooted but some snapped off halfway up theor trunks. Utility poles were the same. 

The devastation took a while to clear completely. Friends of the Boss were coming down with their bath towels to shower and bathe. It was quite funny to see them all line up. I offered my bathroom too, which was gratefully accepted.


----------



## Foxhunter

There were two horses, Galesburg and Bold Impression that were late coming up from their summer break. The Boss told me that I should be the one riding Bold Impression as he could be 'awkward.' 

First ride out with the two it was Galesburg that was messing around and Jan did well to stay on. When I reported this to the boss he laughed, I had got them the wrong way around! 

I started riding BI who was very nappy, traffic shy and exceedingly uptight. I just knew that he had been given a lot of stick and welly (hard kicks) and would just sit on him when he freaked. It was t always easy as we traversed sideways across ditches and through hedges. He reminded me a bit of William but was totally different to him. 

The neighbouring ground belonged to a woman who was well known in the horse world. The Boss had arranged that we and they could ride across each other's land cutting out the main road. We were coming back and Jan dismounted to go into their field. The gate off the road led into a pan and the gate from the pen was broken and impossible to open and close mounted so Jan dismounted and opened them both. I closed the road gate whilst Jan dragged the other open. I rode through and Jan started to close it. Being heavy she had her arm through Galesburg's reins so she could use both hands to lift to close. For no apparent reason Galesburg suddenly pulled back and got free. He took off around the field bucking and farting, horses in an adjoining field were charging about encouraging him. 
BI was quick to join in the fun and before I knew it he had whipped around and was bucking and charging around. I managed to sit him out and pulled him up across the field by the gate into our fields. He was puffed and puzzled as to me still being in the saddle, I slapped him across the neck laughing and told him he would have to do better to shift me. 

After that BI settled with me riding him. He relaxed down and as prepared to listen and try. 

Galesburg was going to Point to Point and BI go back into training when he had sweetened up. 

First Meet we went to was within hacking distance, I had hunted with this pack when I was at Margaret and Guy's, who had moved and were living about three miles away. The hunting wasn't very good, the going was heavy, thick clay in most areas, busy roads and motorways to hamper Hounds. 

The Boss was on Galesburg, Jan on his daughter Milly's horse Fergie and me on BI. All was fine at the Meet until they moved off. Boss and Jan were fine BI decided he wanted nothing of it and went into reverse, everyone went off to the first cover whilst I went, in reverse, round and round a big field. I did nothing but sit. In the end he stopped and decided to go forward. He was happy to go forward and after a while I caught up with the Field. They moved off and I went into reverse. This is how it went on all day. 

I had never ridden a horse that didn't want to be part of the herd out hunting before, I had one now! 

This went on for several Meets. One tedious hunting day we were on the neighbour's land and being eventing people there were lots of cross country jumps. A young woman I had been talking to as we stood around suggested that we had a sneaky jump over some of the schooling fences when the Field moved off. 
This was very naughty but the day was exceedingly boring but could be fun. As the afield moved off we sneaked away and she gave me a lead over some fences. 

BI loved it, he pricked his ears sized up what he was expected to do and never hesitated over ditches, coffins, banks and rails. We then caught up with the Field and he never offered to go into reverse again. 

One day out with Hounds there was a deep ditch to jump. This was out of thick clay into the same the other side. Horses were being stopped dead on landing. I decided I wasn't going to do this as did several others mostly out qualifying Pointers. 
One young man said "Follw me!" 

We turned and locked on behind him. We jumped a couple of hedges upsides, the third hedge was BIG probably. 5' with almost as much summer growth. A couple of the horses were hesitant but BI just leapt and went through the top, a real bullfinch, without a worry. He was living up to his name.


----------



## Foxhunter

Galesburg was a kindly horse, he was evidently a brilliant work horse in training but he hadn't shown anything on the track which is why the Boss was sending him Pointing. He really didn't like jumping much, even following Hounds he would refuse at the smallest of rails. He had been checked out all round and nothing found, he just didn't like it. 

I either took him out at a known poor Meet or, took BI and handed in Galesburg's ticket. I had done this one day and we had had a fast run. Hounds had checked and we were stood in a farmyard. I had BI's butt to a stone wall. In excitement he would fling a back leg. He wasn't kicking at anything , just wanting to get on with things not wanting to hang around. 
We were all swapping flasks as we waited for something to happen. I didn't notice a young girl on a fat pony go between BI and the wall just as he flung his leg. The pony got kicked, there was some blood which looked worse than it was because the pony's leg was white. 

A week later he District Commissioner of the Pony Club asked if I would go the the PC Meet and be there to help. I agreed and took Galesburg. 

As I rode into the field where the Meet was being held the PC secretary scathingly said, "What are you doing here on that dangerous horse?" 

I was asked to attend and help, what horse are you referring to? "

That is the horse that kicked my granddaughter's pony!" 

"No, it isn't. I am sorry for what happened but I would have thought that a seasoned hunting woman such as yourself would have taught the girl to no ride between the **** of a horse and a stone wall." 

That shut her up. 

No sooner had we moved off and going over a jump a teen girl took a nasty fall and was knocked out. The secretary stayed with her until help arrived. I had decided to ride at the back making sure gates were closed and helping anyone who needed it. Having taken many children hunting and knowing how steady neddy can suddenly become supercharged I had attached two ropes to my saddle in case anyone needed to be led. 

Hadn't gone very far before I came across a young girl in tears. Her pony was being very strong and she couldn't stop it. I clipped on a lead rein and took her alongside me. The pony had a Pelham on with rein connectors. When we had a stop I dismounted, tightened up the curb which was very loose and having no effect, and put her rein onto the lower ring. 
I soon agather another little girl on a grey pony. Not only was the pony being strong hos saddle kept slipping up over his withers. He needed a crupper. 

As we went along so I was explaining to the girls what was happening. Soon I had a group of young girls around me because they couldn't stop or were frightened of the change in their ponies. All were first time out. 
By the time Madam Secreatry caught us up I had a little pack of about eight children crowding around me. Galesburg didn't give a toss about it all. 

The woman asked it any of the children wanted to go with her and they all said "No, we want to stay with Linda, she is telling us what is happening." 

I love giving the finger to a deserving person but when others do it for you it's even better!


----------



## Foxhunter

A big bay horse, Frenchman's Fancy had been bought in Eire, he went straight into training and ran very promisingly in Bumpers and then over hurdles. After the latter he pulled up lame having pulled a muscle in his quarters. The Boss was going to leave him with the trainer but I asked what the point was when he could come home and rest. Lot cheaper! 

Frenchy was a lovely big horse, 16.2 solid in build and plenty of bone, but he was only just 4 when he came home. I thought he had done way to much for his age and I knew that had he been with the Missus he wouldn't have run four times. She was a great believer in giving them time especially if they were big for their age. 

I had little regard for the trainer the Boss used. He was next door to the Missus and I had seen how little work the horses did compared to those elsewhere. It was a matter of the old schoolboy network, the Boss had been both at school and in the forces with the trainer. 

Frenchy had some box rest and then the summer at grass. When he came up he was sound and started back into work. He was a big baby, no malice or complications about him. 

Jan and I were out riding one day, I was on Frenchy, leading Fergie and Jan on another TB belonging to friends of the Boss. As we came up a lane there had been a car crash, nothing serious but the cars were blocking the lane. To get past we would have had to ride back the way we had come, a good hour. I decided otherwise. I rode Frenchy up the steep bank, about 4 ft high, into woods. Worked my way around trees to a place to rode down the bank. Frenchy hadn't a clue how to get down the bank. He dithered on the edge, would put one foot on it, feel the foot slide and pull back. We were there for about ten minutes before Fergie pulled ahead and calmly walked down the bank giving Frenchy a lead. 
I was stretched forward holding onto the rope end, I had to let her go, she just stood in the lane waiting. Frenchy oh so carefully came down the bank followed closely by Sailor. 

Fergie was one of the most honest horses I have ever come across. She was so wise and gentle. On one occasion a woman in the village who had a pony for her daughter and her own horse. The girl was taking a Pony Club test that week but her pony went lame. I didn't know her daughter but said she could come and ride Fergie in the arena and if they got on then she could use her for the test. 

The girl, Mandy, was tiny. Fergie was 16 hands so once mounted she looked like a pea on a drum. (Something we are not use to here) Mandy rode nicely but she wasn't use to a well schooled horse or one that jumped freely. After an hour she was popping over 4' fences and loving it. 
The day came for her test and Jan and I rode with her, it was on the neighbour's land so not far away. She rode into the field and Jan and I went on out exercise ride, 
I had told Mandy to come back via the back lanes, it would take her about 45 minutes. The rally finished at midday. 1 o'clock arrived no horse and rider, 1.30 I was starting to get worried. Her mother arrived to pick her up and said she was just coming through the village. 

One very happy child, she had passed her test with flying colours, had enjoyed Fergie so much she had taken the long way back because she didn't want it to end. 

Molly (Boss daughter) was away at boarding school. She wasn't well and had been for all sorts of tests. In the end they found she had toxoplasmosis. She was also both glutton and lactose intolerant. 
That is beside the point except that she was entered in some Hunter Trials on Fergie, she had a bad turn and the boss told me to take th mare around. I didn't have riding gear with me but squeezed into Milly's jods and boots which were tight, her hat on the other hand was way to big! 

I had walked the course with Milly the day before and I set off on Fergie, she was great. There was one fence, a coffin. Over a rail, down a dip, over a ditch, up the other side and over another rail. I came around a corner to go into this and she immediately put the brakes on, I used my spurs and gave her a crack with my whip which she ignored. She popped the rails ditch and rail with no problem and I felt totally awful, she had slowed down to measure it up, not to refuse. 

The only thing I ever had that mare do wrong was when I was clipping her. She was stood in the aisle tied to the stable rails. I left her to answer the phone. When I returned minutes later, she was loose. The youngster in the stable had untied her and she was walking out the barn, she saw me coming and shot off past me catering over the lawn across the drive and onto the main garden. 
I did have to laugh as the elderly gardener came running waving his arms and yelling to keep her at the bottom end rather than over his immaculate lawn! 
Fergie had a good buck and charge around before just walking up to me to be caught. 

The Boss saw this from his office and laughingly said he had never seen Bob move so fast!


----------



## Foxhunter

_Just writing of this and thinking back I never realised just how much happened in the first couple of years. More later. _


----------



## Foxhunter

The Boss hada brood mare, Another Breeze. She had been successful racing and had a colt foal the year to my starting, Unshakeable, and another colt Charlie, that spring and was in foal again. 

As there wasn't another youngster to run with Unshakeable he bought another youngster, Tommy, and a friend of his had a colt to run with Charlie. 

The following spring Breeze went off to stud to foal and be covered by their stallion. She foaled a filly which greatly pleased the boss as he wanted to establish a certain line and would breed from the filly after she had proven herself racing. 

It was not to be. The stud had an outbreak of EHV, Equine Herpes Virus and with several mares it mutated to EHV 1. Bothe mare and foal died, the foal forst and then Breeze became paralysed and was euthanised. 

Unshakeable was jointly owned with the woman who had owned Breeze. She had named him and he would race, when the time came, in their joint names. Charlie was by a stallion called Idiot's Delight and as the Boss named ​all his horses after Herbs or spices he later became Mad Thyme. 

Jan had gone out on Fergie and was riding back from the fields. The two older colts were in one field and the babies in the field next to them. There was an alley between the fields so there's were four paddocks two on either side. Jan said that the two older boys started to charge around as she came through the gate, the two babies took one look at this white ghost horse and just took off, not stopping at the rails but just jumping them. I was in my cottage which looked out on the road and saw the pair galloping towards the village. 
I grabbed two halters, jumped in my car and followed. 
I stopped a car coming towards me but they hadn't seen any horses, nor had a man in the village digging hos garden. 
I turned around and drove back, the woman who owned the house more or less opposite had seen them swerve into a field when a car had come around the corner. 
By this time Jan had shoved Fergie in her stable and came running to where I had pulled the car across the field entrance. This was arable, down to wheat and the two wearers were across the far side. 
My heart was in my mouth as there was nothing bar a sparse hedge to stop them getting onto the main road with traffic whizzing in both directions. 
Pye, my Border Collie had jumped into the car and I let her out. We walked around the field one on one side to try and get between the youngsters and the road. They were still het up and exceedingly wary. I sent Pye, much faster than Jan or me, to get between them and the road. 
She was a great dog and oh so gently she moved them away from the road and towards me. They were about 50 yards from me when Charlie suddenly realised I was there and he trotted up and stuck his nose in the halter. I don't think I have ever breathed such a sigh of relief. 

No harm done to either colt and within 24 hours a gate was hung from the track onto the road so if anything got out of the fields they were still enclosed. Being such a nice person the colts were put in a stable next to Fergie, didn't take them long to realise she was a real horse.


----------



## Foxhunter

Just an add on to the above. Breeze had received all her Numobort K injections through her pregnancy as had three other mares that died. Two other mares that hadn't been inoculated and contacted EHV 1 survived.


----------



## Foxhunter

The converted farm basically formed a square, there were big old wooden barns forming three sides and the house the fourth. Between the end of my cottage and the converted dairy was the entrance. To stop hos dogs escaping the Boss had a cattlegrid installed. This wasn't the normal grid but a hydraulic one, you drove over it and it flattened then came up in the centre. I hated it seeing it as a danger to the horses. There was a small gate by the side of this for the horses. 
This meant that the big muck removal lorry couldn't get into the yard so the muck head was down the road on the side of the road. Jan and I kept this pile tidy, it was always squared off and we would make all sorts of shapes as we piled it up, it would be like a chair, then a castle or might be circular. 

We had a big wheelbarrow, two wheels and very well balanced so easy to move. To save straw and shavings blowing off I rigged a tarp that pulled up over the full barrow. It worked well. 

In the morning our road became a race track with vehicles using it as a short cut from the motorway to the big town. Off the main road it was straight, then a corner past us and neighbour's round another corner and straight for a mile through the village. Using this road cut out a smaller town which was a bottleneck during rush hour. 

One morning I was going down the road with the barrow. I had a car come up behind me. This was a local driver and as he couldn't see to get past me he waited as did a woman in a car behind him. I could see that the school bus was coming and not safe for them to pass. I put my hand out indicating for them to stay where they were. I could do this as it was a slight downhill slope and the barrow was so well balanced you could use just one hand. 

Then a BMW came roaring up and overtook both cars, the bus was coming around the corner and he had to pull in right in front of me,. My instinct was to stop and pull the barrow back but then in that micro second I changed my reaction and hit the corner of the barrow into the car. 

There was a heck of a crash, muck went everywhere and the BMW was ripped open from the front passenger door to the rear. 

The car stopped on the track onto the fields by the muck heap and the driver got out absolutely furious - even more so when he saw the damage. I pushed the barrow to the heap. The two cars and bus had stopped. 

"I want you name and address and insurance, look what you have done to my car!" 

I looked at the barrow which was dented on one side, they were certainly solidly built! I stamped my foot and looking straight at him yelled, "You've hurt Walter wheelbarrow, you've hurt his ribs! SAY YOU'RE SORRY!" As I said the last words I stamped my foot which made my wet woollen hat fall over my eyes. 

Every time the man said something I yelled at him, "Say you're sorry to Walter!" 

The other drivers had got out their vehicles including the bus driver who was leaning against his vehicle hand over his face. 

In the end the man got in his car and roared off yelling, "You need to be locked up!" 

We all had a good laugh and that was the last we heard from the man.


----------



## Foxhunter

The weather was cold with heavy frosts. There hadn't been any racing for a week and looked like there wouldn't be any for another week. 
The Boss and I went to bring horses in from the field. I noticed some wet on the drive and wondered where it had come from. I stepped onto the grass and it was soggy wet. 
"Looks like there is a main leak, I'll call the waterboard when we get back." I told the boss. 
I did call the report line. 

Our newspapers were delivered very early and this particular morning a few days later, as Tony drove down the road I heard water splashing. I was pleased as it meant racing would resume. I got up and fetched my paper from the box. As I did I could hear water running into the drain. I thought I had left a tap on and went to check. It wasn't on but the water was gushing from the outside where the leak had become a major break and water was shooting up about 2 feet, some was running into the yard the rest down the road. 
It was going across the road then running back across the road before running down the side, around the corner then some distance down the road back across into the field. 

I called the emergency number and actually got a real person, I asked where I could turn the mains off and was told that I wasn't allowed to and someone would be out. 

As cars drove over the frozen water so the ice spread, soon there was about three inches thick ice spread about twenty five yards across the road. 
Cars coming from the village could see it, cars (the racers) coming the other way had forewarning by both crossing where it went back across the road before the corner and could be seen gushing down the side. 
Jan and I had finished mucking out and we were having breakfast when there was a loud metallic crash. I thought it was the waterboard throwing the warning triangles off their wagon but it wasn't. 

An idiot driver, obviously speeding, had come around the corner, hit the ice, spun out taking out six posts and rails, the metal gate and another two lots of rails. His car was 'parked' on the side he had been driving facing the wrong way on the blind side of the corner. Hen I saw him he was getting out the driver's door with difficulty as it was against the verge, he picked up his briefcase locked the car a day was walking towards me. 
I was furious. I think he was expecting rea and sympathy instead he got a right ripping into. 
"I always drive this way, I like the scenery." He remarked.
"You tosser, haven't you got any common sense! It Is white with frost everywhere, you have driven across a large patch of ice, there is water pouring down the side of the road, you don't think 'where's that water coming from' and slow down, no, you and other idiots use this as a short cut and a race track. Serves you right." 

Whilst he used my phone to call a breakdown service and his work I got the tractor out, Jan went down the road and slowed the oncoming cars down. I had just put a tow rope on the car when the man walked back down, he called out that he would need to put the keys in the ignition because of the steering lock. 
Steering lock? The front wheels were pointing at right angles to the car! I just pulled it across the road, it slid easily on the ice. 

I called the water board a d was told someone would be there before midday. 
I then called a cop who lived locally, he came round (he was off duty) and mad a couple of calls. 

The waterboard were there within thirty minutes. The council with salt and grit soon after.


----------



## Foxhunter

Boss had a dark bay/brown horse called Record Dancer. This horse was his favourite. Dancer had won a few mediocre hurdle races including one with the Boss riding. 

Dancer had leg problems, he had had tendon injuries, he had been bar fired and was a difficult horse in that he messed around, bucked a lot and would never go in front of another horse. When he won ot was always because there was a loose horse in front of him or, a photo finish. 

The moment you mounted him he would start messing around, first time I rode him I cracked him three times and gave a couple of hard boots and he was so shocked. boss said he always messed, it was just his character. I thought differently, it was pure defiance and ill manners. 

One morning Jan, Boss and I were riding out. I had the dubious pleasure of being on Dancer. We were riding up a gravel track, a drop on the left into thick woods and scrub, a bank on the right with an old rusty barb wire fence on the right. 
Near the top of the track was a concrete gully to take the liquid from the manure pile into the woods. 

It had rained hard during the night and the shallow gully, all of 9 inches wide, had brown liquid in it. The other two horse just stepped over it without hesitation. Dancer went to follow and changed his mind. He absolutely refused to go near the gully andwhen I managed to get him within five feet he would spin around bucking or, just go into reverse faster than a lot of horses could go forward. 

After he had spun around for the umpteenth time rather than turn him around I just made him reverse at speed, over the gully. This was fine until he saw it under his nose. With that he leapt sideways spinning 180 on th ebank, he managed to get a back foot through the wire but went down on the bank. I had no choice but to come off. 

As he got up he pulled me to my feet, before I could look closely to see if there was any damage he started bucking and kicking, and he kicked out hard. He was dancing around and obviously something was bothering him. I then realised it was nettle stings because my butt was stinging too. Luckily I was wearing full chaps at the time so it was really only one butt cheek that got stung. 

I led him the mile home. About half way he settled and the Boss dropped back behind him and remarked that he had some big hives on his butt. I offered to show mine to see whose were the biggest but Boss declined. 

Another time Dancer was in the home field. I had a mare in a side run and so they couldn't squeal over the fence I ran some electric tape across on Dancer's side. Of course he walked up to it and got a shock, most horses spin and run away and don't go near it again. 

Not him. 

He did spin away and then ran backwards fast into the tape. He got bitten again. Took the idiot four tries before he kept away from it. 

He went back into training but his legs weren't standing to it well so Boss donated him the the Jockey School in Newmarket. The students hated him but the staff loved him as he would level any big headed student!


----------



## Foxhunter

I had been out hunting, it was a filthy day, pouring with rain and then some. My hunting jacket was beginning to let the water through and even my feet were wet from water running inside my boots but, it had been a great day so I had stayed out longer than I intended. 
I decided to hack home as it was closer than the trailer. 
I could see Tommy, Unshakeable and Charlie all stood with their backs to the wind and rain, heads down, backs hunched and shivering looking thoroughly miserable. I decided to bring them in later. 

I bathed off Bold Impression and put him in the stable. Jan had a dental appointment and wasn't back yet. The Boss was in his office attached to the barn, and I asked him to come and give me a hand. He put on his coat and came out.

All the fields had hard standing at the gates, Boss hadn't put on any boots. I called the three but they wouldn't come as happens when horses are cold and miserable, they stand where they think it is most sheltered and stay put. 

I took the halters and waded through the mud which, being clay, was boot sucking. I caught Toomy and Charlie, and knew that Unshakeable would follow. I was wading back towards the gate, the horses either side of me and away from me, Unshakeable, who had remained standing decided he would follow and came galloping between Me and Tommy, the rope hit across his chest and naturally Tommy pulled sideways and forward. 

I epwent flat on my face. The three galloped off and went two laps around the field whilst I was trying to get to my feet. My arms were nearly to the elbows in mud and when I dragged a knee under me to get up it sank. 

The Boss was at the gate calling out "Are you all right?" 

I couldn't answer him because I was laughing so hard, I could just see myself struggling. The Boss was polite and never cracked a smile until he saw I was crying with laughter then he joined in. 

Eventually I was standing, the boys had warmed up and came to the gate. 

They were happy to be inside in the dry. Jan saw to them whilst I hosed off my jacket and boots. I had hung my jacket on a wire hanger which with the weight just bent and dropped it on the floor.
I left it dripping in the barn aisle treed up my boots cleaned the rest of the mud off and went indoors to get a shower and dry clothes. 

Took longer to get me clean than it did to do the horse.


----------



## Foxhunter

Mrs Boss was a bit of an enigma, she was a very generous woman, very appreciative of anything done to help her and a bit of a snob. She could put on the airs and graces and made sure that etiquette rules were followed, even if they were outdated. 
The gardener who had worked for them three days a week for years was always Mr Groves. When she was out I always made him his tea and immediately told me to call him Bob, when I relayed a message to Mrs Boss and said, Bob asked if you could pick him up some tomato plants." She immediately questioned me calling him Bob. I told her he had told me to and that was that. Calling emplyees by Miss, Mrs or Mr was going back to Edwardian days. 

So, I had finished working in the house as a new cleaner had been found. Big relief! 

They were having a dinner party, posh, black tie. I had picked up something for her in the local town and when I delivered it she was on the phone and asked me to wait. I did and couldmsee she was a bit fussed. The call had been from the two women who were to wait on the table and clear up. She asked If Jan and I could help. I certainly could but Jan was going to a business do with her partner. I told her I would manage. 

All the food was ready (she was a brilliant cook) and after the first course I brought in the main meal. The Boss was carving and I went round the table serving the veggies - I saw the look on her face when I was silver serving, as done in posh places! 

I cleared up between courses and around midnight, left them to it.

In the morning I let myself into the house and finished clearing the glasses and a General swipe around, leaving all tidy. This was fairly early as I had mucked out and was waiting for Jan to arrive to ride out. 

After second lot Mrs Boss came into the barn to thank me profusely and handed me payment. I was expecting around £20 but she had given me £100. 

Thank you very much! 

They had two young dogs around a year old. Poppy a black Lab and Alfred, a very poor example of a Border Terrier. As the Boss was the UK marketer for Purina he only ever fed them dry food. 
I bought The three dogs a lovely marrow bone each from the butcher. Poppy and Alfred couldn't believe their luck. All three lay on the front lawn gnawing away. Pye got up and took her bone off returning with a muddy nose. 
She stood by Poppy who got up with her bone and followed. Pye. They went to the back garden and Pye stood whilst Poppy buried her bone in the rose bed. Pls dod the same with Alfred only he buried his in another flower bed. 
Later I saw Pye trotting to the bottom of the home field withna bone in her mouth. Artful dog dug up both bones and reburied as far away as she could. 

A couple of,weeks later Pye dug up one of the bones and was chewing on it. Poppy and Alfred saw and darted off to retrieve theirs only to be told off for digging up the flower beds!


----------



## Foxhunter

The Boss was great in that he would allow me to do more or less what I wanted with the horses. In the summer I wouldmshow the youngsters in hunter classes, did very well with Charlie, Unshakeable and Tommy, they all won many good classes. 

It was good education for them all. 

John, the farmer who supplied our hay and straw was a real north countryman. He and his wife Chris, became good friends. Very hard workers as they had dairy cattle and so were tied to the farm. Their children would come to shows with me. Helen, about 12 and Neil 9 were lovely children, not horsey at all. At a show I would let them go off on their own and they relished the freedom. They had to report back every hour and never let me down. 

We had been to one show and after I had seen to the horses I drove the children home. Chris had invited me to supper. 
As I drove into their yard two cows were in the calving barn. I could see that one had started. I told John and he went out to check. There were problems. 

The cow was moved out the stable and put into a crush by the side of the dairy holding yard. 

It had been hot and there was a hosepipe ban. This meant that the holding yard hadn't been washed down in a couple of weeks. It had been scraped but not cleaned. 

Once in the crush John was able to feel that the calf was oresented correctly, it was just big. Chris was administering calcium, John put ropes on the calf's feet and attached the calving bar. 
He started to pull and the cow went down, by now the front feet and tip of its nose were showing but the ratchet bar was as far as it could go. 
The ropes were moved from fetlock to above the knees. End of ratchet bar reached again and calf still jammed. 
It ended up with me sitting behind the cow, a towel wrapped around its girth to give me better grip, John behind me pulling on the legs. The children were watching from the dairy door. 

John was barking out orders to no one in particular. Eventually we managed to get the calf birthed. The poor cow was in shock but did get to her feet. We were covered in cow poop, including our faces, as we had been seating freely and instinctively had wiped our faces on arms or shirts. 

John was angry, more from worry than anything else, he was ranting at Chris and the children. I looked at him and started to laugh at the state of Chris and John knowing I was no cleaner. Chris startedmto laugh and the more we laughed the angrier John got. In the end he gave up and had to laugh too. 

Cow and calf were fine. 

When it came time to bring in the hay I would go and give a hand to bring it in from the fields and stack it. Chris, who was tiny, would drive the tractor and trailer, John and I would be stacking on the trailer whilst Neil would drive the other tractor and load with the flat eight. (This was illegal as children are not allowed in a tractor until they are fourteen unless there is a seat beside the driver. Cartainly they are not allowed to drive one. Neil was great at doing his job, he had great special awareness and never put anyone in danger. 

John was a big strong man, usually he would move five bales to my three when eight were loaded but we worked well as a team and would get the fields cleared and bales stacked in the barns. 

John bought a Shire yearling filly, Gem. Just for fun I would take her to shows. This meant I had to learn how to plait a Shire which is totally different to show horses. The. John bought her older half sister, Dutchess so she was shown too. 

That summer bringing in the hay things changed, I noticed that I was the one stacking five bales to John's three. It was obvious there was something wrong with John.. Chris was worried and kept asking him to go the the doctor. Eventually he did go and was told to take a holiday, he was just tired. Arrangements were made and a relief miller came to run the farm for the two weeks they were away. They had a small milk round which I did for them. 

When they returned John was a bit better but still not at all well. 

Eventually some months later, he was diagnosed with Acute Myelona leukaemia.


----------



## Foxhunter

John was back in hospital, he had several rounds of chemo. They had sold the dairy cows and were just going to hay the fields until John was on his feet. 

We had entered Gem and Dutchess in a show a good two hour drive away. John was coming out of hospital that day. 

Showing any horse requires a lot of work, showing Shires requires at least twice as much. 

As you cannot braid a Shire before reaching the show, their vehicles are always given an area where there is plenty of room to park, get the horses out and prepare them. 
I had a tall bench that I used when braiding their manes. When braiding them you are working with not only their mane hair but also with the flights (coloured ribbons on wire that stand above the mane, ribbon and raffia. It is quite complex and time consuming. 

Jan had come with me. She was really out of action as she had just had surgery on both wrists, also a friend Ted, an older man who loved the Shires. He too was incapacitated having fallen from a tall ladder and damaging both knees. 

It was a hot sunny day. I had both horses ready and Gem won her two year old class. Jan had brought Dutchess over as she was in the following class. She came second. 

Later there was the Championship and much to our joy, Gem won beating much older horses. Unfortunately this meant that we had to wait until the Grand Parade of all prize winners at 3 p.m. In the main show arena. We had finished by 11 a.m. 

I had brought Pye with me and Maisey my Border Terrier, Jan had Bisto, one of Maisey's pups. The terriers were all tied up and the three of us were just lazing about. I was lying on the grass and Jan and Ted sat on the ramp. Horses tied to the lorry eating hay. 

Pye was wandering loose just mooching around. About 50 yards across from us was a line of horseboxes, these were an overflow from the main lorry park. Pye was sniffing between the two lines. As a young lad carrying a polystyrene box containing his lunch, burger and chips (fries) two horses tied in the back of his horsebox started a ruckus. The lad ran, put his food on the ramp and went inside to sort out the argument. 
Pye, artful ***** she was, ran and without hesitation grabbed the container. Now she was smart enough to not come running straight back to us but went to the front of the horsebox. She was peeping around the side watching for the lad who, was looking all around for his lunch. When he didn't see it on the ramp he went back inside to look there! 
Whilst he was doing this Pye moved upma couple of lorries, peeped around to see if the lad was in sight - he wasn't he was looking in the cab for hos food - trotted across, came under the horseboxes in line with us and lay under the one next to us and ate her lunch. 
I let her as I thought she had earned it! 

We did the parade and collected the cups for Gem, one for class winner and the other for the championship, unbranded them. On the walk back Ted had gone to a burger van and bought a burger and chips. The lad had returned with a horse and was seeing to it inside the wagon. I stopped a little past and Jan nipped out, went to the front of his row and sneaked the box food back on the ramp.,
In my mirror I saw him come down the ramp, spot the box and pick it up, open it and look all around wondering what the heck had happened! 

John was home from hospital and worried we were so late back. When he found the reason why he was thrilled. A great tonic for him.


----------



## Foxhunter

Galesburg had been sold. He did win a PT to Pt but refused in his next two races so he was sold to a lovely woman who just wanted a Happy hacker. 
Bold Impression had also been sold. He had gone back into training and after wining a race refused to start. He went to a teen girl who wanted an eventer and they did very well. 

Clove Bud, a mare I had no feel for at all was also sold as she was useless. 

A filly the boss had bought as a yearling, Cinnamon Run, was back in work, she gave me a great feel. I remember taking her into a field for a long canter around and second lap I just opened my fingers and let her slide on. She lowered her head, her legs didn't move any faster but they just lengthened and she absolutely ate the ground. Taking her back into the yard Mrs Boss was hanging out some laundry and I said to her, "When this mare runs I'll put my shirt on her!" 

To replace Breeze Boss bought two mares from Eire, both in foal to good stallions. 

It was just after Christmas, January 2nd to be precise. Both Frenchie and Cinnamon were running that day. The owners of a horse in my car recovering from a tendon strain, had given me £100 for Christmas, a very generous gift much appreciated! My friend Rachel was staying, she had broken her leg at Mary's and had been in hospital after it didn't heal and they put a rod through the bone. Mary had been in one of her bitchy moods and when Rachel called her to ask for a lift home, Mary had made some excuse. Rachel had been stranded and called me. I had gone straight away, picked her up and delivered her back to Mary. 

A couple of days later Rachel called me late one evening. She wanted out and didn't know who else to ask. She had anload of stuff which wouldn't fit into the Land Rover so I called a friend to ask of I could borrow her trailer. I went and fetched Rachel and all her stuff so she was staying until other arrangements could be made. 

This is where the Boss was so great, he was nothing but helpful and did not mind at all. 

I had mucked out and gone in for breakfast. Rachel was sat on the sofa with her leg up. She was in a lot of pain from it. I asked her, "Do you think £50 is a good Christmas present?" 
She said it was so, I put £50 back in a drawer and put the other £50 under a cup on the counter. I intende to put £40 on Cinnamon to win and £5 each way on Frenchie. 

I went down to feed the three youngsters and the two brood mares still out in the fields as it had been dry. As soon as I opened the road gate I knew something was wrong. I walked to the ride between the fields and immediately saw hoof marks down the ride, obviously from galloping horses. 
I could see the gate from the mares field was sticking out at an angle. The three boys were all bucking and messing around excited it was breakfast. Doreen, one of the mares, charged to the gate whilst Suzie was stood near he top of the field. The metal gate which opened across the rode, was semi closed but V shaped, it had nearly been folded in half. The worse part was that in the catch was a double handful of lung. 

Obviously what had happened was something had startled the mares, probably deer which they wouldn't have seen before, they had chested the gate open charged down the ride, stopped at the road gate and then galloped back. The gate would have swung back but not completely and they both had tried to get through the to narrow gap and Suzi had hit herself on the catch. She had a hole behind her elbow that I could have put my foot into. I could see three broken ribs and her lung with her heart beating. 
A big vein was pulled out and hung down below her belly. Surprisingly there was little blood. 
I had thrown feed in for the boys as having to wait they might have injured each other before going to Suzie. 

I ran back to the cottage and called the vet. As it was a Bank Holiday, the 1st having been a Sunday, and called the vet. There was an elderly lady who took emergency calls. I asked whomwas on call and she said it was Kevin. I told her to get him here fast and tomsay the Linda says it is an emergency. 
I knew that if she relayed the message he would know it was serious as I wasn't given to panic or over exaggerating. 

At this point the Boss and family were leaving to go to the races. I told him what had happened and he offered to stay. I pointed out that there wasn't much he could do and to go enjoy himself. The only one staying was Robert, Mrs Boss' youngest son. I asked him to wait for Kevin and then bring him down the field.

I knew that Kevin would have to take Suzie to the Horspital and as the ramp of the horsebox was quite steep I needed a trailer. I called a friend and she was only to pleased to let me take hers. 

I had the trailer in the field as Kevin arrived with Robert. 

Kevin was cheerful saying, "What's going on then?" 
His face changed when he saw the injury. His first words were, "Is she insured?" 

I replied in the negative, "Well, we had better give it a go then." 

He went to the back of his car and proceeded to fill up syringes handing them to Rob who, I had been told had a total phobia about needles. Rob was turning pale and I just said, "Rob, if you bloody well pass out you are going to left here on your own. Pull yourself together." 
He didn't like it but didn't faint. 

I took Suzie to the horspital, one of the girls came in to assist and she was stitched up and left there for a good three weeks. It was thought that she would probably abort her foal but she didn't. 

In all the rush I had totally forgotten about giving the Boss money to bat for me. He had said that Cinnamon wouldn't have a hard race as it was an introduction but I knew she was special. 

I was right she won easily at odds of 40:1 I should have won £1,600 and would have lost of Frenchie. 

Suzie returned home aboth three weeks later. She had a healed wound bar for an area the size of your thumb nail which kept oozing. I was told to keep it clean and it might never heal totally as they thought it was a damaged lymph node. 

Although I kept them in different areas Doreen knew Suzie was back and they kept screaming for each other. I put them next to each other for less stress. I turned Doreen out in the home field and both would go bonkers so u turned Suzie out in a tiny area next to the field. I had an elasticated surcingle on her with thick padding over the hole. 
It didn't work as she rolled and it was covered in mud. Oddly that clay stopped the oozing and it soon healed totally. 

Both mares went away to foal, Suzie was about 6 weeks over her due date and foaled a black filly, Doreen had a chestnut colt. Both were put back in foal.


----------



## Foxhunter

Just a quickie! 

When Record Dancer was running in a hurdle race at a local track, it was a filthy wet day. As the Boss was leaving to go watch it I handed him £10 to put on him to win. I said to go to the Tote to back him. 
Boss told me to save my money as he would hate the conditions and the weather. I told him to domas I asked. He took my money. 

When he returned he was laughing. Dancer had won, there had been fallers and two loose horses led him home, he had done as I asked and placed my tenner on him on the Tote thinking I was mad. Then he had second thoughts and did the same for himself. 
When he went to collect we had won over £2,000 - no one else had backed him so the odds were high.


----------



## Foxhunter

Back at Mary's

One trainer that used us quite a lot had a mare that had done well racing. When she finished he had put her in foal, two years running and she had 'savaged' both foals, killing them. He asked if we would have her for foaling 
. Mary had not any experience with this and I was prepared to take it on though my experience was limited. 

The mare arrived, she was due to foal late April, she was in a lather getting off the horsebox and in an even worse state when in a stable, she didn't box walk, she box galloped! The stud groom had folded her twice and he had never seen a mare attack her foal like this one. He wished me luck. 

I took her to the three stables at the bottom of the garden, there was a small pen around them and slip rails into the field where two 2 year old fillies were turned out. They came in at nights. 

The mare was happy in the pen. I shut her up when the two were brought in n opened the stable door so she could go in or out. She had been inside during the night as she had lay down and eaten her hay which was at the back of the stable. She came inside to eat her breakfast and I let her out with the other two. They were fine together as introductions hadn't been done ove rthe stable doors that night. 

She was due to foal end of April but I didn't think she would until much later. I had a bet with the trainer that she wouldn't foal before my birthday, second week of June. 

Soon we left the three out full time. Come June the mare was wandering off on her own and standing under some overhanging trees. I knew that this was where she would foal. 

The evening of my b/day she was restless and I knew that tonight would be the night, I said that I was going to leave her out with the fillies. Mary didn't think this was a good idea, obviously inside it would be easier to watch her but my gut was saying to leave her out. 

I checked her just before midnight and she was well underway. I kept back sitting on the grass just watching. Once the foal was out I was ready to grab it and take it away. 

The mare lay still, the foal still had its back legs inside her. I pulled it clear and dragged it around in front of her. There was that wonderful mare nicker as she smelled it and started to lick it clean. 

I sat quietly watching, the mare stood up, the two fillies came over to see but kept a respectful distance. The foal finally got to her feet and after a minute or two was looking for the milk bar. Every time the foal went to the back the mare moved so the foal was in front of her. 

I had to catch her and hold her still so the foal could latch on and feed. Once this was done and the foal lay down I again moved away. The mare stood over the foal, bickering and licking her. 

I went to bed. 

That mare hadn't savaged her previous foals at all, she was so claustrophobic she had trampled them in her panic. 

The trainer came the next day and couldn't believe that she had a live foal. He went to examine the filly closer and the mare took off not allowing them near. I had them go out the gate and said I would try and catch th emare. I walked up to her and caught her with no issue. 

The old stud groom had way way more experience than me at foaling but he didn't have the instinct to feel what the mare needed.


----------



## Foxhunter

So a friend of Boss asked if we would have their mare in whilst they were away on holiday. She was an Appaloosa in foal to a TB. She was due to foal whilst they were away. I didn't think she would. This mare was fat, didn't look particularly big and showed no signs of bagging up. 

She too went 4 weeks over her due date. This was true as she had been AI'd only once so dates were correct. She foaled a bay colt which was tiny and had no white bar a few hairs on his forehead. The husband had a bet with me that he would get spots later, it was only for £10 which I won. 

Another two horses that came in whilst owners were away belonged to an event rider. One, Andy Pansy, a chestnut, had been round Badminton five times. The other, a big young grey, was her future prospect. 

I was told that there were on ifs or buts Tom Andy but the grey had to be caught at feed time, his feed put in his manger which was at the back of the stable, led back to the door, the door shut and then have his halter removed ove e door and tomwatch out because he would kick and kick height. Not to do anything with him if he was eating even if it was hay. 

I appreciated the warning but there was absolutely no way in heck I was going to put up with that nonsense. Just imagine having to do that for every horse! 

First night I did follow instructions and sure enough he did kick and kick to get me. I did the same in the morning as no one was around but that evening when Jan was there I did it my way. (Isn't that a song?😙) 

I put his feed in a very tall bucket, walked in. He crowded me a bit but I didn't do more than push him away a bit. I put the feed in his manger. He was stood with his left side against the wall and the door immediately behind him. He was flinging his right hind out hard and fast. I had the handle of the bucket just on my forefinger and timing it just right, as he kicked I held the bucket so he would hit it. 
He kicked and made contact. The bucket went up in tha air, hit the bars, bounced off and landed on his head. He leapt to the back of the box wondering what the heck had happened. He made a face at me and started to swing his butt towards me so I kicked the bucket so it hit his belly. He shot around the stable with me kicking the bucket between his legs. When I though he had had enough I stoppe. 
He stood on the opposite side to where he had been eating and stared at me. Licked his lips and looked very sorry for himself. 

I never said a word. I picked up what remain d of the bucket and walked out. 

In the morning he politely moved back, I put the feed in his manger and he waited until I was out the door before moving to eat. He never lashed out at all. 

These two weren't I work, just turned out each day. They had their New Zealand rugs. They also had separate hoods which had three buckles to do up under the neck and a loop which the chest strap went through. There was a long nylon strap from the hood which threaded throug two D rings on the rug just above the tail. Both had leg straps. 

I had turned them out and went to empty the wheelbarrow. As I pushed it down the road so there was Andy stark naked, his rug in a heap near him. I immediately thought that I hadn't done up the chest strap (he only had one) and it had slipped off. 
I emptied the barrow and went to put it back on. 

Every strap was done up, the stitching on the leg straps was stretched with a few broken but it was still attached. I do not know how the grey had managed to pull it off but he had! I covered it in Crib Stop a very bitter tasting spray you can get here and it didn't happen again.







.


----------



## Foxhunter

after Frenchie had his first run over hurdles, which he won, he was lame behind. The vet thought he had pulled a muscle summer rest and he was sound but back in training he was hanging very badly to the left and then when going over a fence he was jumping seriously right handed. He didn't do any good that season. 

I spent the summer schooling him on the flat and over poles and grids. I had a lot of lessons with a great trainer. Over some fair sized fences he was jumping perfectly straight. 

Just before he was due to go back into training there was a cross country ride which Millie was doing on Fergie and Boss decided to take Frenchie, I warned him to be careful as the ground was rock hard and, being clay, very uneven in places. 
They had fun but Frenchie ended up with heat in his leg and the threat of blowing a tendon so he stayed at home. 

Around the same time Boss bought his older full sister, in foal to a good Irish stallion (she was in Ireland) she arrived with two yearlings, We were gathering horses all the time! 

Unshakeable had gone into training after I had broken him. He was a big horse and I was able to persuade the Boss to leave him until he was coming four. He won two Bumpers. He then went to his other owner for the summer. Boss wanted him back with us to get fit but she insisted he went back to the trainer. 

I had started to break Charlie who as a yearling, turned out 24/7 had started to crb and Crib seriously. A collar and even a muzzle never stopped him he would find a way to do it regardless. 

He was very easy to start, he had been handled a lot and took everything in his stride. He was bold when I long reined him out and about and I had no worries about riding him away. 
Wrong! 
The moment I mounted him he was tense, locked on to the left side of his bit and tilted his head to the left badly. I found myself hanging onto his right rein really hard. He felt that if I coughed, sneezed or farted he would truly bolt, just take off blindly. 

We had the vet in and a chiropractor but none could find anything wrong. I had a friend Oli come ride him in the arena, she was very experienced and much lighter than me and she felt the same as me. 

He was an enigma. 

One Sunday morning Boss came over to me and collected his two dogs, they would hang out with me quite a lot. They had Maud, another Border Terrier and he left her behind as she was just a pup. 

He drove off somewhere Mrs Boss stayed at home. 

A couple of days later they both went off taking the dogs with them. On the Friday Boss called me into his office and said, "You know I went off on Sunday and again on Tuesday?"
"Yes."
"How do you feel about moving to Dorset?" 
"Well, I will need at least a week to pack!" 

He had seen a place advertised in the Sunday paper, had gone to see it, liked it and had taken his wife to see it on the Tuesday and put in an offer which was accepted. The deal was done by that Friday. 

I went with him a week or so later to see what I thought. It was much better but had been first a dairy farm then a pig farm. The house, an old manor, had been neglected for years, there was a church in the grounds though this had been deconsecrated. There were four stables in one yard, a brick barn then on open barn with what had been the dairy behind it, this had been made into stables all holding pigs of various sizes and in filthy conditions. Another big barn with a floor that sloped about four feet across the width, another two barns above that and an area about 25' square which had been a silage pit. 

All of this was built on a steep slope. Mrs Boss had it right when she said it was nestled in the armpit of the hill. 

There were 180 acres, none of it fenced well, loose rusty barb wire on rotten posts. There was a lot to be done but we had five or six months before we moved. 

Another adventure.


----------



## Foxhunter

Rules for qualifying Pt to Pointers changed allowing qualifications with Drag Hounds. We decided to do this as it was shorter and could only be more fun then with Foxhounds and all they had to put up with roads and railways in that area. 

This particular Drag Hunt was owned by the army. Bisley and Sandhurst Drag Hounds to be precise. I took Frenchie out. The Master was known to me as he was also an equine dentist. 

At the Meet which was held at a cross country and Pt to Pt course, he warned me to stay up the front as there were a lot of recruits coming. 

Sure enough two big horseboxes arrived and horses unloaded. These, by the look of them were from the Kings Troop, and were the carriage horses that pulled the guns. All bay around 15.2 hogged manes, all looking very alike as none had big blazes or any distinguishing markings. 

As soon as the troopers mounted up it was easy to see that none of them were very experienced and certainly not use to riding across country.

This was going to be interesting - very interesting! 

With Drag Hounds a line is laid around a course and there is no checking but mostly a fairly fast canter. I did as was told and stayed up front with the Field Master. 
The first run was short, we basically charged around the inside of the race course jumping various cross country fences, finally stopping on the hill in the centre of the course, a great view point. 

Well, it was a sight like nothing I had seen before! There were loose horses charging around, stirrups and reins flapping. Troopers running after their horses, others who had not fallen off took a comrade on board so there were two riders. This meant two riders out of control. 

Several of us were having little bets on whomwould be the next to fall. Horses being horses, several of the loose ones just charged up to where we had all stopped and pulled up. We just caught them and led them back until,we found a rider for them. I am sure many were not on the same horses they started on. Most of them had only been riding four weeks although this was 2 hours five days a week. 

At another meet we had had a good run. Again there were troopers out they were getting better as not so many fallers. We had jumped mostly hedges and rails. Towards the end of the second run there was an open gate to the right, a big hedge which some were jumping. This was the last fence on the run. 
On landing you had a sharp swing left through another gate into a farmyard for a rest before going off on the next line. 

I jumped the hedge followed by a trooper who fell off. His horse shot past me and took off across the big grass field, heading away from the other horses. I was worried as running alongside thenfield was a very busy dual carriageway with traffic travelling at 70 m.p.h. I had driven the road many times and had never noticed a fence. 

I took off after the horse, Frenchie was only to willing. Luckily the horse pulled up in the corner where there was the remains of an old barb wire fence and a sparse hedge. I just rode up to and caught the reins and started to lead her back. 

Now I have probably ridden more hours leading another horse than not but this little mare was riding me off towards the road. Frenchie wanted to gallop and was pulling my arms out.

I wondered how the heck the troopers kept control of the lead horses when pulling the guns and recalled they held a baton across the horses neck. I quickly put my hunting whip,across her neck and she stopped pulling and came along nicely.
The trooper was running towards us and was soon back in the saddle., We caught up with the rest who had started the next line. 

The great thing about the Drag Hunt was they never started until midday and were finished by 3 p.m. latest. Not at all like hunting proper but great fun.


----------



## Foxhunter

The woman who lived down the road and had the land surrounding us (the Boss had bought the lower 20 acres from her) was a respected horsewoman. She was an official judge for showing, her children had advanced event horses which they had brought up through the ranks but she had way to many horses. 
She had several stallions standing at stud and probably over a hundred horse about the place - most of them good looking and mares to breed from. This went from horses to ponies. 

In the winter they looked awful, many had severe mud fever, they rarely saw a farrier looked full of worms and weren't always Hayes every day. 

On way more than one occasion I went down to the fields to find her horses in the alley or even in the fields depending on where they had broken the rails. On one occasion there were about a dozen in there, most in the alley some in the top field. Those in the alley were easy enough to drive out, the field ones not so easy! 

In one corner near the adjoins gate at the top of the alley, we had run 18' of rails so nothing could get trapped in the corner which was quite steeply angled. When I went into the field to get them out there was a mare in that corner. The rails were all up. I always kept a hammer and nails down there because of having to put the rails back up. I had the hammer in hand with the intent of knocking the rails down so this young mare could get out. At I approached she ran into the field rails in panic, then she stepped back so her butt was against the other rails, took one step and jumped out easily clearing the 4' + rails back into her correct field. 

It wasn't so much the height she jumped but the way she jumped it and tucked her feet up. It wasn't a cat jump but an absolute perfect bascule and done with such ease. I was more than a little impressed! 

Another time, Jan and I heard a lot of squealing from the fields and ran down to find a new pony stallion in with the two yearling fillies who were doing their best to fight him off. He had been turned out with some pony mares in thenadjoining field and had busted through two lots of railing to get in with them. We managed to catch the fillies and Jan took them to the stables. I then caught the stallion, a really nice stamp of pony. He was wound up and mannerless. He had a come to Jesus meeting and after that he behaved with a great deal of respect. 

It was over an hour after calling to say he was out, before someone came to collect him and that was a young girl who couldn't handle him. 

Another time Jan and I were going down to bring the boys in. The pony mares we're out in the higher field. There was a grey lying down near the rails. Simultaneously Jan and I both said, "She's dead." Then as we walked towards the gate it looked like she had moved. 
As we were catching the boys the tractor and trailer arrived to throw out some straw for the ponies. I didn't call about the pony as they would see her. 
I didn't think much about it when she was still there next morning as the Hunt would be collecting her. 

Wrong! She was till there when we went to get th boys in. I called and said there was a dead pony out there. I was told she had only just died as they had been down there earlier. 
Ummmm no, she was dead yesterday. 

I later learned that the Hunt would not collect fallen stock from them as more often then not they were well past their die by date and no good for Hounds. 

The other common occurance was that she would turn out a stallion with mares next to our fields without telling us. This caused some squealing and striking out. 

On TB stallion was turned out with a herd of mares in the autumn. This was tomcover anything that hadn't been stopped with earlier coverings. 
We rode past most days and after about five days we could see the horse had lost a lot of weight. I thought it was because he had been covering mares. A couple pd days later it was obvious that something was very wrong and we rode into the yard to tell them. She was in hospital but her Husband was there, I told him to get the horse in and seen by a vet. Next day it was still there nothing butnskin and bone. 

Again o told them to do something and if the horse wasn't brought in from the field I would have the RSPCA there before dark. They brought him in and he had acorn poisoning. He died a few days later. 

So, I had a word with John and went to see the woman and asked her about the youngsters that had been in the field. They had been moved and we went out to look at them. All I knew about the jumping filly was that she was bay, had a small white sock on her right hind and a small star. 

There were three more or less identical so John and I bought all three. 

They were two year olds and had never been handled. We went to get them, they had brought the majority in together and they were innthe indoor arena. We managed to cut out the three and drove them together into a stable. I backed the horsebox up to the door and drove them into the back. We crammed them in tight and I went in with them and managed to get halters on them and worm them. Drove them down the road and let them out in a field at John's. 
They hardly touched any hay as they had never seen so much grass. 
Taking out a small feed for them they were soon touchable and it wasn't so hard to get them leading. 

Somehow they got called Faith Hope and Charity. I fiddled about with them and it was Hope that took my eye. We sold the other two - each fetching more than we had paid for all three and I kept Hope. 

I was correct in that she had a terrific natural jump. She wasn't very big, only making 15.1 at maturity but that didn't matter.


----------



## Foxhunter

A farmer at the top end of the village was great friends with the Boss, Neil. He had cut right back on his farming activities mainly growing cereal crops but he had about 100 sheep. 

He was good in that he would allow us to ride over his land when the harvest was in. 

I went up to see him about something and he had all the ewes in pans sorting them and doing their feet. The lad that worked for him was off sick. I ended up helping him. When lambing time came he taught me how to lamb a ewe of the lamb was stuck and arious other sheep husbandary. 

We often brought the ewes down to graze our fields. Old Pye hadn't never worked sheep before, she could drive horses and cattle but knew better than to round up sheep. Just for fun I started tomwork her with the ewes and she delighted. She was about 11 by this time but as with all working Border Collies sheep are in their blood. She was more than handy when we drove them through the village as she would stop them going into gardens and kept them moving. 

Of course any bottle lambs came to me. These aren't orphans as such, it is usually because a ewe had triplets so one is taken away and fostered onto a ewe with a single. We usually ended up with about six bottle babies. 

Jan and I were very proficient in keeping weak lambs alive, several we had were no hopers but bar one, who was neurologically damaged they all pulled through. 

Problems came with feeding the horses in the field, I had to have feeders on the rails or the sheep would barge in and eat the lot. As we had more horses I would keep feed in a big plastic barrel down there. One night the sheep had knocked this over, it was empty and they got the lid off. 
A motorist came in tomsay there was a sheep in a barrel. He had been taken short and gong through the gate to have a pee. I could well imagine his fright when the barrel started rolling around with a ewe bleating away inside it. 

It took a lot of effort to get her out!


----------



## knightrider

Love these stories! But what happened to Charlie? What happened to Hope?


----------



## Knave

Those are the two I was wondering about too! What happened to the enigma?!


----------



## Foxhunter

Ah, you have to wait until later! 

Just random things of the time. 

Jan and I both hated grocery shopping so, she would go one week and pick up anything I might need and o would do the same the following week.

It was my turn this particular week. All the dogs wanted to come so I put them in the car, the back seat was down so plenty of room. 
At the time I had a shopping basket thingy that fitted inside the cart so, food on the conveyer I could open the bag and pack everything on one. 
I had seen, marked right down, some steak so I had picked that up. As I reached the top of the village I heard rustling and just said, "Leave it." 
I got back and let the dogs out, lifting little Maud, who was only about 14 weeks old out. As I picked up the bag so I saw an empty polystyrene container. One of the dogs had eaten my steak! 
I didn't have a clue who it was only that it wasn't Pye because she had been in the floor well of the front seat. 
I picked up the tray and looked at the other four dogs and said, "Who stole this?" 
Three all looked guilty. Maud looked straight at me and gave the biggest belch from a pup. I then saw how swollen her belly was. I knew the culprit! 

....................................
Not long after I started Mrs Boss and Milly had gone into town to shop. I get a call from Milly to say they were in A & E, Mrs Boss had fallen and had a suspected broken arm. Could I get the spare keys from the house and collect the car as they had taken The dogs. 

Jan was off that afternoon and had gone to visit a relative. Bob the gardener, didn't drive and I didn't know anyone to ask. God works in mysterious ways and the local vicar drove in. I asked him and he agreed. 
Oh boy, that was a terrible trip, he never drove into town as he didn't like roundabouts - of which there were plenty. I had him drop me off before the busy area and pointed him in a homeward direction. 

The car was parked in a multi storey car park. All Milly could tell me was they were on an upper floor and exited by a certain shop. 
The Hunt was on. I knew the make ofmcar and colour but hadn't a clue what the registration was so I was looking in the back seats of all the cars that looked similar. 
Eventually found it. The dogs were fine. I drove to the hospital and picked Mrs Boss and Milly up. She had her arm plastered.

..............................
I would take the dogs a couple of miles down the road to some forestry where they could run and hunt. One day I went to a different place and got a bit lost. 
I had the dogs off leash but with me. Some riders came along and I asked them how far off the road I was. It was a good couple of miles ahead so I let the dogs run. 
They took off running across the track and over what looked like a sandy area. It was a sandy area all right - quicksand! 
Pye was in the front and had got several yards across it before getting trapped, Alfie was near the edge and I could grab him and haul him out. Maisey managed to extricate herself. Poppy wallowed near enough that I could grab her and pull which left Pye well and truly stuck. She had a longer coat than the others and it was weighing her down. 
She struggled to turn around and I had to issue very strong commands for her to come to me NOW! There was nothing around to use so I could get closer to her as it was an open area. Poor girl she struggled until I could grab a handful of chest hair and pull her out. 

It took me hours to get them washed of the sand and both Poppy and Pye had sand coming out their eyes for a couple of days. 

I have never been so frightened for the dogs safety. I never walked that way again! "

......"..................................

I had become friends with the people we bought the feed from, Oli and Rob. Oli had a Welsh pony for her daughter, he wasn't broken and she asked me to break him. He was a jumpy pony and as Kate had had a nasty fall she was a bit nervous. It wasn't looking like a good match. 

I was horrid to that pony in that he had all sorts of things done to him, buckets tied to the saddle, polythene feed bags tied so they were flapping around him as he lunged. He frequently freaked and all I did was laugh at him. After about two weeks of this I pulled him out one morning and knew I had 'got him' he was a different pony and totally accepting of anything I did, standing like a rock. 
I had my neighbour's daughter sit on him and rode him away. Angie had her own pony but had never had lessons. She was well balanced and fearless. 
After he had been ridden for a couple of weeks Oli came to see him work. She couldn't believe the change in him. Angie could do all the children's exercises, around the world, scissors, backward roll off his sides and even leap frog onto his back. 
He an Kate did well showing.


----------



## Foxhunter

Over the time I had a great working relationship with the Boss. He left the horses to me just saying what he would like. 
When I first started I was given a petty cash box with £5 in it. This was to get petrol for the Land Rover and other petty things. £5 didn't go far so often I would spend my own money if needed. I would put th receipts in the box and give to the Boss, often, because I forgot to give him the box, this amounted up to quite a lot of money. Soon he was putting £100 in there. Often if I was personally short on cash I would use it for me, leaving an IOU and replace it when I got to a bank. 
Later I found out that Larry, the previous worker, had been fiddling to cash which is why it had been handed to me with a low amount. 

Trust is all important in my mind.

".......................

The Boss had his birthday December 31st. One year he wrote a script of a themed party, one of these whodunit plays. That afternoon one of the yearling fillies came down with colic. I called the vet and a young woman I hadn't met before arrived. I expected her to tube Lucie but she didn't. 
The colic got worse. Vet came back, still no tubing. She finally came back just after 11 p.m. This time I insisted Lucy was tubed. I could see she was frightened to do it but with encouragement and determination from me she did it and the filly was far better. 

This just qualified vet was exhausted, she hadn't stopped all day and looked dead on her feet. 

I insisted she came indoors and had a coffee and something to eat, she argued but I insisted. I made her scrambled egg, bacon and tomatoes. 
As she was eating this, it was well past midnight, the Boss came over and wished us a Happy New Year and presented us with a bottle of champagne. 
Whilst I was cooking the vet was looking at my two budgies, she remarked that one had a fungus and it needed treatment. She would send me some stuff with instructions to paint it on his beak and feet for three days, every other day four times and then every third day for three times. 

I received the medicine a couple of days later along with a bill for a couple of pounds, and started treatment. It seemed to clear up. Then, because I got the timing wrong, I started again. The next day budgie was dead. I don't know how old he was as I had found him in the garden being mobbed by sparrows. 

I just chucked him in the barrow and he went to the muck heap. 

A couple of days later I had to take Charlie for X rays, there wasn't anyone else in the surgery apart from staff. I called out that I was going to sue as Claire had killed my budgie. They all knew me well and one of the girls said they had just received notice of a new pet cemetery that had opened, to bury a budgie was called a snowdrop funeral and would cost £8. I remarked that budgie had a mushroom funeral and went on the muckheap. 

The chief vet, Peter heard and came out telling me I should sue. Poor Claire was operating and could hear it all, she came out and was so apologetic before she realised I was kidding. 

................

Charlie was a two year old. Some friends of the Boss were staying with their pony so the daughter could compete in a big junior three day event held locally. They both came down to the field to help me bring some horses in. I had Charler and the woman informed me he was lame behind. 
I couldn't find anything wrong and he was getting worse. I called in the vet and Kevin arrived. I wasmsure it was high up but he was insistent it was in his foot. 
Sure enough he did find some pus but Charlie was no sounder. This went on for a week or so. In the end Charlie was getting very annoyed at having his foot dug open and nothing being found. I insisted that we X-ray him. 

I took him to the horspital, Kevin wasn't there. The radiologist had been told to X-ray the foot. I didn't want that but wanted his stifle done. 

Kevin arrived back and I was adamant that he was lame high up. In the end I said that if he had his foot Xrayed and there wasn't anything there I wouldn't pay! 
The pictures of his foot showed a slight mark where the abscess had been, nothing to cause the degree of lameness. Kevin wanted to work his way up taking pictures of each joint. I refused and said to do the stifle. Sure enough he had a bone cyst on the joint. 

This meant he was taken to Animal Research in Newmarket for an operation. It was successful and he had no further problems.


----------



## Foxhunter

I became good friends with Oli and Rob. 
Oli had a small yard with a couple of,liveries and horses of her own. 
She had two mares she had bred from, one a lovely looking TB and the other a gangly BIG filly, Hannah. 

Sal the TB quite a character. She was always in trouble. One day as Oli was watching them from her window, Sal jumped the big hedge between her and her neighbour. This was a clean jump but the other side was a ditch and a barbwire fence to keep cattle out the ditch. Sal was a mess with some very nasty cuts and scrapes. 

Sal was quite a handful to change bandages and dress the wounds so I would go to help. 

Oli, a very experienced and beautiful rider, was inclined to be a bit soft in the manners department. Her horses were well behaved to a degree but lacked that total respect. Hard to explain. 

Rob wasn't particularly horsey so wasn't a lot of help,when Sal messed around. 

I went down to hold Sal whilst Oli chambged the bandages. Watching Sal like a hawk and not what Oli was doing. I corrected her the moment she tensed or flicked and ear back. 

Soon she was not even moving even though the wounds must have been sore. She healed remarkedly well with barely a scar. 

In the winter Oli had the two youngsters and the two mares in a big barn. One day Sal was three legged lame. I get a call to ask if I can go down to help load her. They had been trying for an hour and were no nearer getting her on the trailer. 

When I arrived there were loads of people all crowding around offering all sorts of advice. The loudest of these was the manager of the local saddlery, a guy I always thought was gay because he was so camp but learned he was married. 

The trailer was parked between the barn and a railed yard, about 3' either side of the trailer. About ten people (they kept their horses there) were leaning across the rails. I had a short discussion with Oli and Rob and took Sal. I walked her away to the back of the barn and just held her there until she had calmed down. Mr Camp came around to see what I was doing and told me I needed to give her the lunge whip. I didn't let her move around and made sure she concentrated on me. It took about 15 minutes I guess. 
I walked her back to the trailer, stopping several yards away I told everyone to ****** off and get out the way. A couple, including Mr Camp, objected to this but a quick flash of my eyes, the reluctantly moved away and stood in the middle of the cattle pen. Mr Camp was uttering what he would do and how it should be done. 
Sal walked to the ramp, I stopped her, let her look, scratched her withers, ignoring Mr Camp who was saying to Rob, "Put that whip across her back legs!" 
Sal looked, put one foot on the ramp, looked again and followed me straight in. 

One up for me. 

Funny thing was that a couple of,weeks later Mr Camp called me and asked if I would help him load a horse he had bought that refused to load. I did and it wasn't a real problem. 

A while after we had moved I heard he had left his wife and gone off with another man. 

...........................
Hannah, Oli's other youngster, came out of the barn that spring. Both were turned out in the field by the house. Of course they had a big charge around and three times Hannah fell over. This can happen, three times seemed excessive and combined with her being were unbalanced altogether made Oli and I look at each other bother thinking 'Wobblers' 

Oli had Simon the vet come in and he to agreed. Naturally Oli was very upset. Simon suggested that Peter, his partner looked at her to confirm the diagnosis. 
When Oli pulled Hannah out for Peter she was lame with a foot abscess and Peter said he'd come back when she was sound. 

A friend of mine, Sarah, was doing equine chiropractor work. She was coming to me and I asked her to look at Hannah. Sarah uses Applied Kinnesiology for diagnostic purposes and in testing Hannah found her to be misaligned in her nec, elsewhere too. Manipulation was done. As she was still lame she stayed in the stable. 
A couple of days later Peter was coming to diagnose her. Oli asked if I would lead her up as she was rather 'fresh' (this was an understatement!) 
I had a bridle on her and led her out. She stood looking all round whilst Peter pulled and pummelled. I then had to trot her up. 
Ha bloody ha ha. 
I do not think there was more than one leg on the ground at a time. Boy, did she perform and she went so high. 

After running her up several times with barely getting a couple of trot strides Peter told me to put her in the stable. 
He turned to Oli and said, "There is absolutely nothing to stop a wobbler bucking but, their legs are never under them when they land! Chuck her out and let her grows." 

Hannah lived on and was sold later as a Hunter.


----------



## Foxhunter

I went with the Boss to look at the new place. It was about 1 1/2 hours drive. It was certainly rural and as I saw the view from the hill I couldn't take in enough of the view. 
Boss pointed out the buildings nestled under the trees. Mrs Boss said it right when saying "We are in the armpit of the hills!" 

The biggest thing that shook me was how steep thenbuildings were. From the farm yard I looked down t the Manor House and could see over the roof yet it was less than 30 yards away. 

There were pigs everywhere. Non of them kept very well. Four good sized stables in the lowest yard. Then a brick barn, about four feet deep in litter, this was to be my cottage, Bosses office and a foaling box. There was a brick annex to this barn which would be the tackroom. There was a Dutch barn opposite and backed onto that six stables with an additional two inside. There was an area which was underground to the road. That would make a great feed room, the feed brought in from the road. 
There was also another area that had been the milking shed. 

By this was a newish barn about 30' X 60' this was full of pigs first time I saw it. The floor sloped steeply from back to front, guessing I would say at least three feet. 

Two more barns went up behind this. 

There were five fields, all well over twenty acres each. Between two of these fields there were two lakes with a causeway between them this was knee deep mud. 

There was another field across the road which was way higher over us. To get to this you had to go up the road but there was a rough track that was well overgrown opposite the main entrance to the buildings. 
At another time we drove down in the Land Rover and I was marking out where it would be best to divide the fields, Boss said to drive down the track. That was interesting to say the least. A rickety fence on my right wasn't going to stop us going down a very steep bank should I go to far over. 
It did clear a pathway. 

There was a deconsecrated church next to the house and the other side of this was an Old Rectory. All dating back several centuries. 

The Boss had an architect to draw up plans for my cottage and his office. A local builder was to do this work whilst the house was being renovated by another local firm. There was land to be fenced and much else, nothing was suitable for horses as it stood. 

I was given the plans for my cottage and altered them quite a but. The architect hadn't a clue! He was told it was for the groom yet he hadn't allowed for a boot and wet clothes area. 

He had put a hallway from the (only) door which made the kitchen area tiny. Upstairs, three bedrooms and a bathroom. That looked fine on papaer. 
Wrong! When built there was only room for a double bed and a dresser in the biggest bedroom. To give me a wardrobe they took it from the next room making that tiny. Had he thought or had I realised the dimensions, a big closet could have been built in for bothe these bedroom in the loft area over the office. 

I was still excited for the move.


----------



## Foxhunter

Several trips were made back and forth taking things down like the old tractor, it was totally chaotic and weeks before the move it was obvious that many things would not be ready. 
The perimeter fencing, sheep netting with an electric wire set to the inside was well under way, the fields had to be divided. The main house was being ripped apart inside and much of that wouldn't be finished, my cottage was nowhere near habitable. 

The top stables were unusable as they were levelling out the barn floor, not an easy task as access to it had to be built first, this meant a roadway had to be built alongside the barn. 

When I realised what was going on I had to have somewhere to lay my head and Oli leant me a small caravan which was parked by the garages. 

The bottom stables were more or less usable as long as the horses would jump over trenches across the yard. (These were for water and drainage. )

I had taken the ewes we had run on from bottle babies down. I had also been given a young pedigree ram which I took down in the back of the Land Rover, he hadn't gone earlier as I didn't want the ewes lambing to early. That was a funny trip. 
I had Sarah, a girl working with me as Jan had to stop because she had problems with her wrists. Rambo was quite happy in the back but he kept farting the most obnoxious smells. I stopped at a garage to get fuel, this was a small place and someone pumped the petrol for you. The man was stood with his back to the LR looking at how much he was putting in when Rambo shoved his head out the window and baaaaaaed really loudly right by the man's ear. Poor fellow hadn't noticed him before and nearly needed a laundry change. 

I arranged for transporters to take the horses down. I had four in our horsebox and the two wagons took the rest. Getting all the vehicles down took some organisation. Boss had three cars plus Mrs Boss's the caravan needed towing, my car and a car to bring back those who drove down. That was sorted. 

We had here colts not yet gelded, two geldings, all unbroken, three horses in work, and an assortment of brood mares and fillies. The boys were all taken to one field, quite a trek and meant crossing the causeway and all the mud. The mares and fillies all had to go together. 

The roads around were single track and the horseboxes filled the lane. Many local people came along and not one complained about being held up. A couple of women offered to help which they did. 

I was going to love this area. 

That was a long day, horses settled out in long grass were quite happy, vehicles all safely down, the caravan set up by the garage, I could run a cable from the garage so that was fine. I had no toilet or hot water but there was a loo in what was to be the tackroom so that was fine. 

Itmwasmonly a small caravan and I had packed clothing that I would need plus some cooking utensils and my microwave in there. Not ideal with two dogs but it had to do. 

Luckily the horses stabled were compliant with stepping over the trenches and never took any notice of cement mixers going, big wagons delivering stuff and workmen all over the place. 

I cannot remember what horses I had in work only that Charlie was one of them, Frenchie another. Charlie was still very tense being ridden and no way was he ready to go into training as he was. 

In the Old Rectory next door was an Australian vet, Nick. We had decided not to use him being so close, instead the Boss signed up with a large practise several miles away. 

Nick rode and came out on Frenchie with me on Charlie on morning. He asked if he could have a look at him when we got back. The odd thing was that when palpitated Charlie never flinched no matter what pressure was used. Nick thought he might be able to help him. That afternoon he returned and injected him in several places along his spine. This was with water. 
Next day I had to ride him out at a walk on the flat, impossible around there! 
To start with he was much his normal, head twisted and stiff. Half a mile down the road and he suddenly gave a big sigh and stretched his head down and was totally relaxed. 

A different horse altogether. 

I was able to work him as I would any other horse. Then about three weeks later as we were trotting upma steep hill, he suddenly locked up again. Nick came and injected him again and he was fine. So, he went into training. 

I drove him the Lamborn and spoke to both the trainer and the Head Lad telling them that if Charlie went stiff and locked his head to one side, let us know immediately and Nick would go and inject him.

All seemed good.


----------



## Foxhunter

When Charlie went off into race training, he was fit and well. He looked a picture. He was still cribbing a lot, I had stopped him but he went into such a depression he wouldn't eat so, I let him be. It didn't stop him eating and non of thenother horses copied him.

He had a race over hurdles which he won, he was then entered for a much bigger race at Newbury. The Boss went and I watched it on TV. I never backed him as he was a short price. 

The moment the jockey was legged up I could see he was wrong. He was turning his head and the jockey was hanging onto his right rein trying to keep him straight. 
In the race he was hanging badly but jumped the hurdles really well, he had run near the back most of the way but when coming over the last three he jumped to the front. He was well ahead of any other horse, still twisting his head left. About fifty yards from the finish line he dropped the bit, the jockey just went straight out the side door. The Boss and trainer were furious. I was furious too but for the reason that Charlie had obviously been wrong and trainer hadn't said a word. 

I told e Boss that it was. The jockeys fault as you did have to have a very strong pull on the right rein to try and keep him straight. When that pull dropped it would be like pulling on a rope and it breaking, you would go down. 

I didn't like the trainer even before I worked for the Boss. We had several of his horses when at Mary's and she didn't rate him either. He was well connected, and Prince Charles had horses with him but that didn't make him good at his job. 

I went with Nick to inject Charlie and was so shocked at his condition. He was shut in a tiny inside stable with no window. He was thin, to me very thin. 
Nick agreed with me. He came home soon after and took quite a while to gain condition. 

Unshakeable was doing very well. The Boss had sold his half to the woman he had been in partnership with. He had shown a lot of promise and was a natural jumper. Sadly when running at Ascot he shattered his back leg as he took off over a fence. At least the Boss never lost out! 

I did all I could to have him put horses elsewhere, but it was a case of the 'old boy' syndrome. Boss and trainer had been at school together and in the same regiment in the army. 

Tommy was also there, he wasn't anything special. Then he broke his pelvis. He came home to mend and was sold to a young man who had him for the rest of his days. 

The odd thing was that all four of the youngsters we had reared, had bone problems. Charlie a bone cyst, Unshakeable shattering a leg for no real reason, Tommy a busted pelvis and the friend's colt also had a broken leg. It might very well be a coincidence but I didn't think so. 

I went on a weeks course on stud management at the Equine research in Newmarket. It was very interesting and in one lecture found out that a city riding school had several ponies break legs for no real reason. It took some research and testing but it was found that they used a lot of nitrogen on their limited paddocks and hay they used was also high in nitrogen and this caused a change in bone density. 
John had done all our fertilising with a high nitrogen content, ditto his hay was also high. 
A lesson learned the hard way. 

Charlie went back into training and was brought down over a fence and broke his neck dying instantly. 

That was the end of the boss's first venture into breeding.


----------



## Foxhunter

We were 10 miles from a town in one direction, 7 in another. The nearest shop in the village was two miles. This was run by a lovely elderly couple who did their best to accommodate the locals. Not long after we moved I was in there when I overheard two women and a man talking about the 'in comers' that were ruining the Manor. Itmwas quite interesting to eavesdrop! 
The lady owner was trying to tell them that I was from the manor but they were so engrossed with their conversation they didn't realise. After several minutes they stopped. I went in and said, "Excuse me, I am from the Manor and in what way are the new owners ruining the house? " 
That shook them but they said all the climbing plants on the outside were dug up, that they had heard the insides were being altered totally and that there was going to be a swimming pool put in the garden." 

I just laughed and said that, yes the plants had been pulled down because the outside needed to be rendered, the only alterations to rooms was that two had been made into bathrooms, the rest was the same. I also asked when any work had been done on the property last because with the dry rot inside and damp from the outside, the place would soon be a ruin. That shut them up! 

This is typical of village life, it was bound to happen but, Boss was a good person and we all supported the village activities. He sponsored many events. We settled in well. 

The riding was fantastic, there were so many places to go, great hills for trotting up and getting them fit, no insane drivers and people who would offer a helping hand. 

If there was a downside to matters it was the Baron! He was a Belgium man living the other side of the hill. He was a good horseman and had a passion for deer. He owned the woods and the hill above us. He had bought 50 yards surrounding the woods. In the far field thismwasmfenced off. In the home field it was fenced along the woods. The previous owner had sold the land to him and had rented the home field strip back. 
Boss had met him and the Baron had agreed we could continue with the renting. When the original lease was up, about six months after we moved, he decided he wanted the land back. There was no warning, he just came down and cut all the stock netting and electric wire. 
He also claimed that the water pump house was his. He ran about ten strands of barb wire across the gateway so to get to the top field we had to go down the road, down one field, across the causeway - which had now been hard tracked - before reaching the top field. 

The inevitable happened and a two year old got kicked on his elbow. He was seriously lame and I had to get him in. The Boss was away. It was all I could do to get him to move and it would have been dark before I got him home. I took him down the old track and undid all the wire. Got him through, did up a strand and took him into the stables and called the vet. 

It was dark by then so I left the fence until,the morning. Unfortunately the Baron came down not long after I had put it up. He came into the yard in a fury, he had seen the hoof prints and the fence wasn't as he had originally put it up. 
I let him have his rant and looking him straight in the eye said, "Baron, Sir, I thought you were a horseman? I had a seriously lame horse that could hardly walk, I think he had chipped his elbow. I had to get him in and that was the shortest way. I really thought you would understand the urgency and not mind at all. It all seems so petty to me." 
He made a few huffing noises and went off. 

That was the only person that Boss ever disliked. 

We got round it by making another path with a bridge across the ditch.


----------



## Foxhunter

The best part about where we were was that there were three good hunts all having boundaries bordering our land. Portman, Blackmore Vale and S. Dorset. Boss decided we would hunt with the Portman. 
We were going to Pt to Pt Frenchie and I had to qualify him. I was really looking forward to this. 

First day I took him out he was great at the Meet, he drew a lot of,attention as he was big and looked really well. We were lucky in that Hounds found quite quickly and we had a three mile point, (when Hounds keep running for the distance, more or less without a check for three miles) I ended up fairly near the front. We moved on to draw another cover and ended up with the Field stood in a lane. I was in the middle of the melee. The lane was fairly steep with high banks either side and a thick hedge at the top of the bank, the fields several feet higher than the road. 
This was fine, we could see Hounds casting for a fresh fox ahead of us. Frenchie stood nicely watching. When he saw the riders in front start to move he stood vertical and was going to fly leap forward which, crammed as we were, would have meant him landing on another horse. I grabbed his left rein and turned his head hard around to my leg, somehow we ended up the bank and crashing through the hedge. At least no one was harmed. 

From that moment on Frenchie became worse and worse, the moment a horse moved he thought he was off and would fly leap or rear dangerously. This was from the Drag Hounds, you were either charging along a line, stopped for a breather or charging again, Fox Hunting is not like that at all, there are many checks and standing around, runs might be very short with more standing again and I could not get this through his head. 
I did qualify him but he wasn't safe, not so much for me but for those around him. 

Boss was riding out most days but hadn't been hunting for years. 

At Nick's, next door, he had an Australian woman staying there with two event horses she had brought over and then had bought a mare here. She had to go back to Aus for visa purposes and two horses came to stay with us. Her best horse Bozzy, was turned out for a break and then in easy fitness work, the other, Foxy, she wanted kept fit and hunted. He hadn't proved to be very bold cross country and thought Hunting might help him. 

He was a lovely ride but certainly a bit chicken. He was the sort of horse that saw something and then convinced himself he was frightened of it, whip around and hook off. He soon realised that I was way more frightening than anything else around! Henwasnworked with Frenchie and settled in well. I suggested that Boss hunted him when I was to busy to go out one day. 

Boss hacked home and I have never seen horse or rider quite as mud splattered as the two of them! They both had grins across their faces and had had a thoroughly great time and I wasn't allowed to hunt him again! 

Later towards the end of the season both horses went off tomamdressage yard to be sharpened up for the forth coming eventing season. The lad who took them on thought that Foxy was way to fit! 

...............

I had a local girl working with me, Mel. She was a great character and friend. She had me in stitches much of the time, she was very witty in a way I hadn't come across before. 
We went to a show without horses and a woman was talking about her llamas, Mel asked a question and the woman started to answer but before she finished Mel had asked another. It was funny to see reactions and whether the person was quick enough to answer. 

..................

When Mel left I advertised the job. Several applicants most were useless. One girl came for an interview. She walked past the window and I called he in. When I saw her face it was all I could do not to show shock. The left side of her face, from her eye down to her chin was a red strawberry birth mark. It was as if someone had drawn a line down the centre of her nose and painted one side. 

The thought that crossed my mind was that she would have a big chip on her shoulder - would it be worth taking her on?

It wasn't the blemish that put me off but the thought of her being bitter but after talking to her I decided to take her on. She had to work a months notice before starting. 

I made a very good choice. 

Sharon had absolutely no issues over her face, she also had many marks over her body. I asked her if she had been bullied at school and she said not. Once a boy, in High School, had been going on about her face and she turned around and slapped him across the face. A teacher saw her do this and told her off. She replied, "Well, now he knows what it is like to have a red face!" 
Boy got into trouble and that was that. 
We worked together for several years.


----------



## Foxhunter

Not long after we arrived the Hunt came across the land. Three of the youngsters out in the big field decided that this 'unting lark looked like fun and jumped out over the hunt fence, and then another into woods, they were finally caught and brought back by hunters leading them with just their hunting whips around their necks - from their horses. 
Apologies were made aling with compliments on how well mannered they were. 

Gradually things were coming together. My legs really ached the first few weeks as I wasn't use to the slopes but they sure got me fit. 

In the interim month before Sharon started I was on my own. I had youngsters in the loose barns, six stables in the top yard filled, and four in the bottom yard. Mucking out took some time so I was starting really early. 

Vet Nick and his wife Miranda had a nanny, Julia who had an unemployed boy friend. Nick suggested that Stewart come to help out. He arrived having had nothing to do with horses before, he didn't care what he had to do about the yards as long as he had nothing to do with the horses. That was fine by me. It freed me up to work the horses. 
Stewart did a good job in haying up the barns, mucking out and sweeping. It wasn't long before he was holding the brood mares whilst I hosed their legs off when they came in, then he started leading one in from the field, by the end of a couple of weeks he was bringing in all five on his own, together. His fear had completely gone. 

In the spring we had gone to a show with the youngsters. I had shown a big filly in hand and immediately had another in the next class. Stewart brought that one over and took the other back to the horsebox. Sharon was leading the third around prior to its class. For some reason the big filly decided that there was no way she could stand on her own and started to freak out. She wasn't doing anything really terrible, just shouting and moving around a lion. As I walked back from the class I could see Stewart holding the filly with one hand, leaning against the horsebox drinking a coffee totally unconcerned. 

Stewart stayed on even when Sharon started with us. He left inthe summer when he found a real job. 

"..............

I had been down to Nick and Miranda's baby sitting. They weren't late back and I left to walk up the drive back. It was very dark, a cloudy night and no light pollution in that area. As I neared the top of the drive so Poppy, in the parallel drive to the Manor, heard me and started barking. It was a panic bark, "If you come anywhere near me I will run away" bark. 
I barked back at her and she screamed in fright, I laughed and called her and she met me at the top of the drive wagging her tail pretending she knew it was me all the time. 
She came to my cottage, I buzzed the Boss and told him she was with me. His dogs had learned that when they wanted in they weren't heard scratching on the door so they would come to me, I would buzz, boss would call them and they would run back down. 

A few minutes later the Boss buzzed me and asked if I had Alfie. Answer was no. He was missing. There wasn't a sign of him. 
Alfred was a poor example of a Border Terrier, he was over sized and had absolutely no inclination for hunting and going to ground. Unlike my Maisey who was a ****** for taking any other dog out with her and being gone for days. 

We called and looked for him for a couple of hours and again in the morning the search resumed. I was insistent that he had been stolen. 
When I started out up the drive a car had gone along the road, I thought I heard it stop and then drive on but wouldn't have sworn to it and hadn't taken any notice at the time. 

A few days later we heard that a woman had had two terriers stolen from her place. Then more terriers in the area went missing. The police weren't really interested, Boss had called the dog warden and the local RSPCA. There was also a voluntary organisation called Pet Search, where lost and found dogs were put into a computer system and with any luck matched with owners. 

A week or so after the woman's terriers went missing, it was a ***** and her five month pup, she was reunited with the pup. Another woman walking her dog had found the pup cowering by the side of a road. She was injured so was taken to the vet for treatment. The vet called Pet Search and they reunited her with the rightful owner. 
Near where the pup was found was a travellers encampment. The owner called the police and went there and found her *****. She called me to say what had happened and to say there was a van load of terriers there. 
Next day the police had a search warrant and I went with them. The only dogs on the place were two lurches, (hunting dogs usually greyhound Xs) one was just loose the other, a young dog was chained out in the open. It was a filthy day, this dog was cold, wet and so miserable. His neck was raw from the chain and he had a big pot belly. 
I refused to leave him and a cop told me to take him with me. 
The police were gathering a lot of equipment believed stolen, mowers, chainsaws and a lot of garden tools. 

I have never had a dog sick up worms as he did in the back of my car. Lovely! Poor animal, I bathed him in sheep dip to get rid of all the lice he had, no fleas there wasn't room for any! I gave him a dose of dog wormer and shut him in a stable for the night. He sang all night long. 
Fortunately Mr and Mrs Boss were away. Next night I had him indoors and he was perfectly fine - and clean! 

A couple of months had gone by and we were resigned to not seeing Alfie again. Then I answered the phone, it was the RSPCA saying they were fairly certain they had Alfie. 
Mrs Boss was out, Boss was in his office and just for once he didn't have a vehicle. The Land Rover had been sold, his car was in the garage so he borrowed mine to go see if it was Alfred. 
It was.
He had been found by a woman a week prior. She had got her car out of her garage, went to shut the garage door and when she returned to her car Alfie was sat on the passenger seat. 
She took him to work, bought him a collar and some food and wanted to keep him but realised he had to belong to someone so handed him in to the RSPCA. He had been there a week.
We only got him back because a young girl on work experience was looking through the Lost dog book and recognised his description. She went to his kennel and he was excited when he heard his name. 
We were told that they didn't look further back in the book than a week, it had been well over that since we reported him missing. 

Big joy in having him home. There was a travellers encampment not far from the woman's home.


----------



## Foxhunter

I put Madam, (Hope) in foal to a warblood stud, I had hunted her but, with the work of the other horses didn't have a lot of time for her. She wasn't very tall, only 15 hands and I always felt big on her. 

Sharon had a New Forest pony, Rusty. He was around 14 hands and came to live with us rather then at Sharon's home. He was obese, how he hadn't had laminitis I will never know. 

He was a lovely pony and once in full work he soon lost the weight and was fit for the first time in his life. Sharon had only hacked him out and I encouraged her to both hunt and compete on him. He did fairly well at local shows. 

His only downfall was that he was a door banger and would decide it was time to wake everyone up any time during the night. One day I had enough of his antics and ran out to his stable and grabbed a broom. I went into his stable and chased him round and round shoving the bristles on his belly cussing him all the time. He never banged his door again even at feed times. 

.............

We had sheep belonging to a shepherd, John, grazing most of the year. He had three real working Border Collies. They really knew their job but, they were all frightened of the horses. 
Moving a flock of sheep with young horses in the field was, to the horses great fun and they would help by charging through the gathered flocks. John's dogs would just go back to him and cower. 
John and his family wanted to go away on a holiday and I said I would have the dogs. This wasn't just the three but, eleven as one of the bitches had eight pups! 
It was summer and the horses were all out 24/7 so I had the pups in the foaling box. Pups wer about 5 weeks so the *****, Meg, was bored of them and jumping out of the stable leaving them for longer periods. 

I had the youngsters in the loose barn for the farrier coming that afternoon. As I walked past I saw all the horses huddled on one corner, I wondered why and on a closer inspection saw that old Pye had all John's dogs in there holding the horses in the corner! 

One morning Sharon and I were having breakfast when I hear cussing a shouting. I looked out and saw Pye and two of John's dogs standing across the track up past the barns. The Hunt were out exercising Hounds prior to Cubbing starting, Pye had taken the other dogs and they were standing there with that collie stare refusing to let Hounds past! 
I thought it funny, the Master didn't! 

..............

We were told to watch out for tack thieves, there was a permanent encampment not far away. The tackroom was alarmed. Not long after we moved I was waiting for a woman to come with some curtains she had made for me. I heard a car drive into the bottom yard and went to greet her. 
It wasn't her but three lads. They had backed their car into thenyard and stopped bu the back door into the tackroom. One lad got out and boldly came to me asking where a place was. He said he was looking for his uncle who had a tack shop in the area. 
Although new to the area I hadn't heard of the place and there certainly wasn't a tack shop in the area. 
These lads were obviously gypsies and up to no good. I sent them off with false directions to a none existent place, telling them to turn left, they turned right. 
Melanie, who had been out riding was coming down the hill and asked what they had wanted. They had stopped her at the top of the hill and asked her where the bakery was. I had noted their car number and called the police. Someone came out and took notes I gave them the registration and he asked if I was sure I had it correct. I was and Mel had also taken note of it. 
A week later I was told they had caught thenthree. A lot of tack had been stolen in the area and they caught them with thentacken tack at their home. 

.............

The leader of the local encampment was called Bomber, haven't a clue what his real name was! He had gone down to Nick as he needed a vet. One of his mares had foaled and the foal wasn't suckling. Nick was away so Miranda sent him to see if I would help. 
I gathered all I thought I would need, feeding tube, a large syringe with the end upcut off which makes drawing milk much easier, a feeding tube, funnel and a sterile bowl to collect milk if I had to. 
I followed Bomber to the field to see several mares grazing in one area. A cob mare was being hassled by what was obviously a stallion. In. Some long grass there was a foal just lying there napping in the sun. 

I managed to catch the stud which was wearing a halter. I shoved him into another paddock. It was fairly obvious that the mare smelled different and he was trying to cover her whilst she, having just foaled, wasn't going to have it. She had put her foal in the grass and was keeping well away whilst the stallion was after her. 
Sensible mare.

Once the stud was out the way, she went and stood by her baby. I asked Bomber for a halter and he didn't have one, nor did I. It never crossed my mind that I should take one! 

I took the stud's halter and put it on the mare with some baler twine as a rope! I got the foal up and helped it to the milk bar. It had obviously fed earlier as it wasn't particularly hungry. 
Bomber was thrilled. I didn't take payment from him only to pleased to help. 
He thought I was the bees knees, cats whiskers and kippers knickers rolled into one.

A year later he again needed a vet, Nick was again absent so he came to me. A mare was foaling and the foal was stuck. 

I went over and sure enough another mare was well into labour, only one foot was showing. Again I had taken all I thought I would need including a halter but he did have one. 

I lubricated my arm and felt that not only was one foot bent back but also the head. Luckily she was a roomy mare, very wide behind and after some shoving and pushing back I got the hard and foot around. All the time I was telling Bomber that the foal would be dead. 
Once straightened out the mare went down and with an exhausted push and a pull from me, the colt was born. It wasn't breathing. 
My adrenaline was running high and I picked it up by the back legs and swung it around about three times before it slipped from my hands and slammed into the ground. 
I am sure it was the impact that caused it to breathe because it coughed and started to breathe. About twenty minutes later it was up and feeding. 

Again I refused payment. I was sent a big bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. No name on the card, just a thank you. 

We only once had an attempted burglary in all the years there. Other places were broken into on a regular basis.


----------



## knightrider

How did you know to swing the newborn foal around your head? Did someone once tell you they had done that and it worked? Or did it just pop into your head and since you had nothing to lose, you tried it? I love reading about all your different varied experiences. I am so glad you are posting them.


----------



## Foxhunter

With lambs you can often thwart their death wish by swinging them, calves too. 

I didn't swing the foal above my head but in a circle about waist high. 

I am very lucky in that I seem to have an inner knowledge which tells me what to do in certain circumstance. It might be something I read about a while back, or something I saw on TV or what someone had told me - it suddenly is 'there' when I need it. 

I never said that for the next couple of days my arms ached like heck!


----------



## Avna

It's a well known home remedy for goat kids, lambs, and puppies born not breathing (you swing them between your legs, head down). I think it opens the air passages with centrifugal force? I have never had to try it myself.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Dropping back.*

When I was at Mary's she was invited to go see an American who was starting horses in a different way. He was giving demonstrations at Windsor Castle. Mary didn't want to go and asked if I could. 
This was privately organised by E.R. The trainer was Monty Roberts. 

I found it very interesting but cannot say I was very impressed. The horses being used were all army remounts, they might well have been unridden but they were very well handled. 

About a year after I started with the Boss the Horse and Hound (the main horse magazine in the U.K.) were bringing MR over to give several demos and they wanted horses. Not just unbroken but remedials too. 

One of the three fillies who gained a lot of condition I had started. She was fine. Jan was riding her away. She had been ridden out for about a week and then we took her into the arena. She had gone well and Jan had cantered her for the first time. That was all good. It was when she stopped that the problems started! 
This filly had a very big barrel, was much bigger behind and no withers. Jan stopped and filly went to stretch her head down. The saddle slipped forward and tilted over her neck and Jan slipped off. It was quite funny really. 

Boy that filly learned fast, from that moment on she would pull the saddle forward and drop Jan. I did get on her and rode her bareback as finding a saddle that wouldn't slip was difficult. I stopped Jan riding her as she was getting married in a week and I didn't want her going down the aisle battered, bruised and broken. 

I turned the filly away as we were busy with the other horses. 

When I saw the advert for remedials I offered this filly and the other two as unbroken. I was asked to bring the remedial and one of the others as a spare. 

I brought Hope in to teach her to lead. I never put a hand on her other than her neck. 
Jan and I went in the horsebox with both horses John and Chris came by car later. 

The horses were all in stables and all MR did was look at them and have his rider place a saddle pad on their backs, Hope was fine with this. 

He asked me the problem with Charity and I was totally honest with him, saying it was because the saddle slipped up her neck, she needed a crupper! 

He worked Charity in the round pen, join up follow up and then tacked up, this was no problem. Nor was it when she was ridden at a walk and then she just yanked her head down, saddle slipped and he was on the floor - three times! I was asked if I could come again the next day, as he wanted to put a western saddle in her. Luckily a member of the audience had one they would bring along. 

He wasn't going to do anything with Hope but the TV cameras arrived and the only horse he had to work was a gypsy cob rescue. It was an ugly thing and very laid back. He asked for Hope to be brought in. 
All the other horses he had worked had been well handled, they were all groomed and some had been shown in hand. Hope, on the other hand was reasonably clean in that she had lost the field mud having been stabled for three or four days but her mane and tail,were long and had straw in them. Her feet were long having never been picked out let alone trimmed but, she was a great mover and lovely to look at. 

He had her through the steps and Sean had ridden her walk trot and canter all in twenty five minutes. No objections. I went on the mike and explained why she was so unkempt - because I wanted to see how it would work with an unhandled horse! 

Now, back then MR stated that after they had done join upma few times they would long rein the horses out and about before riding them about the place. This was only to get them over the trauma of a girth and rider. 

The next day he worked with Charity and used a western saddle which she couldn't move. Sean rode her out of the round pen in the large indoor arena. I could see her brain cells grinding together, she was grinding her teeth and when trotting was slamming her front feet down hard. She didn't like being beaten, as in not being able to move the saddle. 
She relaxed down in acceptance for a couple of circuits. When Sean changed the rein she decided to have one las the go and tried her hardest to buck him off. He never moved, just sat there and booted her forward, she then gave up amdmwas going sweetly, ears pricked and trying hard. 

I borrowed a western saddle and we rode her with that for a couple of months then in an English saddle. She had levelled out somewhat and I had also had a crupper ring attacked so she couldn't pull it forward. She then gave up and I sold her to a teen girls who wanted a prospect. 

Hope somehow became Madam, she was in season and being testy with the farrier. I told her to stop being a Madam and that stuck.


----------



## Foxhunter

This was early days of Monty Roberts in the U.K. Way before he became the b all and end all of horse training. 

There was another remedial that was brought into the round pen by his owner. A tall well built bay horse. The woman had gone to Wales to buy some sheep. She not only bought some sheep but also this 3 year old entire. The horse had run on the hills with a small herd and was now feeling overly manly so was being sold. He had little handling but the woman said he loaded well and had a long trip back to her farm. She had him gelded did some ground work with him and sent him off to be broken. 
He was returned as unrideable. She tried two other trainers and they said the same. 
As she was based in Newmarket I guess they went to racehorse breakers who are often not that understanding. 

The horse was quite relaxed standing to the side waiting his turn. He walked relaxed into the pen where the woman turned him loose and went to commentate on his history. 

As soon as MR entered the pen that was one totally different horse. He was tense to the point I could smell the fear in him. He took a while to join up. He wasn't at all worried when tacked up and he long reined knowing what he was doing. 
He was relaxed once the join up,was achieved. 
Sean went in to rode him. He mounted fine. MR had his back to the horse talking to the audience. The horse when asked to move was as stiff as a board, like a coiled spring ready to explode. 
MR, took a backward step to him raised his head and rubbed the horse's face. It gave a sigh and was walk trotted and cantered in the pen. Sean dismounted and led him out the pen to remount in the arena. Again the horse tensed. MR just raised his hand and walked towards him and the horse relaxed and was ridden for about thirty minutes in the arena totally relaxed. 

That did impress me greatly. 

I had many encounters with MR over the years. Each time his stories got wilder and wilder. I will tell of my last encounter with him at another demo.


----------



## Foxhunter

Hunting was such fun! Having not enjoyed going out on Frenchie and with him jumping right across the fences when Pt to Pting he was given to the Jockey Racing School in Newmarket. Record Dancer had already found hos way there. An ideal retirement place for them both. 

Madam was very bold and despite her size more than willing to take on the big hedges in the Vale. 

A friend of mine had a horse she wanted to sell, nice looking about 15.2. She had a bad car smash and wouldn't be likely to ride again. He was a smart little horse as honest as the day is long. 
I had him out hunting one Wednesday, he never put a foot wrong. The Master's wife was on a new horse he had bought for her. She wasn't the bravest of riders and these two were not a match at all. She was having a hard time holding it and was near to tears. I offered to swap with her and she barely gave me time to dismount! 

We soon found a fox and Hounds were screaming. I found this horse very strong and was soon at the front. Some big hedges had sorted out the wheat from the chaff and I was soon being tanked off with! The Field Master had a fall so just a few of us were after the pack. I was in the front, not by choice! 

I wasmsoon following the Master. He went into a big hedge and I heard him call out "Ditch!" Thinking there was a ditch on the landing side I let this horse slide on to get the spread needed to clear a ditch. 

He jumped the big wide hedge fine but crumpled on landing. I was on the deck. When I caught him and rode up to the Master, he was laughing at my fall. I told him that it was his fault for calling out "Ditch!" 
He said, "I never called out ditch at all, I called out sh it! When I saw how big it was!" 

Luckily the horse was on trial and went back, they bought my friend's horse for more money than she was asking for him. 

I like deals like that.

Boss had a friend of his come stay for a few days hunting. She brought two horses with her. One was a smart little TB mare. Her groom stayed with me and during the evening told me that her boss wouldn't ride the mare as she was impossible to control, the groom was to second horse her out so riders could change horses. 

We both went out tomsecond horse and I could see this girl was terrified of the mare so we swapped. Hells bells that mare was such a disappointment to ride, she was all over the place and offered to rear more than once. I had the feeling it was all in her mouth. Beforemwemcaught up with the Field I stoped and took her reins off the bit and put them on her noseband. The change was instant. She settled and was happy. The owner didn't want to swap so I had her out for an hour or so. No problems. 
At home I examined her mouth, it all looked and felt OK but then I felt a tooth under the gum on one side. She had a broken wolf tooth which must have been very painful. 
She stayed and Nick removed it. Once that was out she was the sweetest ride going. 

".................

Nick had a horse to operate on. An Appaloosa mare belonging to a good friend of mine, Mandy. 
The horse had a hole on the coronary band that kept oozing despite all sorts of treatment from different vets. It was on the inside of her off hind. Nick asked if I would assist him and asked to use the foaling box. This was fine. 

Nora Batty was prepared for her op. I had her facing away from the door and was stood at her head. Nick injected her and as she started to go down I was guiding her to go down on her right. Nick screamed at me that it was the wrong side and tried to get her down on her left. I won and she went down on her right leaving the wound exposed. Had she gone down the other way it would have been impossible to get to. 

My sister was staying and she came in to help. Operating low on a leg usually brings about a lot of blood loss so a tourniquet was applied which Sally was operating. 
Nick dug down and didn't really find anything except a lot of blood, I was auctioning and swabbing. He got down a good two inches and reckoned it was far enough. Sally and I both said go further! He did and found a pea sized object that looked just like a dried pea. Then another came out with the blood and was on the swab. 

Bandaged up and brought around Nora Batty was absolutely fine and the wound healed on a short time. Goodness knows what it was. 

.........................

Nick had gone sailing with his son, Harry. Miranda called me to say that one of Julia'a horse had colic and Julia was in a panic. I went down, sure enough Julia was crying, her groom was walking Bos around in the field and he was just trying to roll all the time. He was very uncomfortable. 
I had him brought into his stable and let him loose. He immediately rolled and cast himself against a wall. More tears from Julia! I let him stay there upside down. He wasn't struggling to get up he was quite happy to lay on his back. After some ten minutes he wanted up. I just hooked a rope around his back leg and another around the front leg and we flipped him over, he got up, shook himself looked in his manger for food walked to look out the window and did a pile of poop. 
I am sure he had an impaction and lying on his back freed it. 

................

The vets we had been using weren't all they were made out to be. When it came to the October testing to see if the mares were in foal or not, the vet insisted he did an ultrasound whereas they had always been manually examined before. I questioned this but he was adamant. 

Mares are tested before the end of October asif they are not in foal no fee is paid. He confirmed all five were in foal. Great. 

Not! Two of the mares were empty and no return on the fee. This was not a matter of a few pounds but hundreds. 

The other thing was that they had a horse in to operate on. I took him there late afternoon and picked him up three days later in the morning. 
When the bill came in they charged for four days. This annoyed the Boss as he had only been there three days. Vets refused to back down. 

John had sent me Dutchess to foal down. All went well and she had a colt BUT the colt had no swallow or sucking reflex. I milked Dutchess and tubed the colosseum intomthe foal. I called the vet and a woman appeared about two hours later, this was around 7 a.m. when she arrived. 
I was shocked as she had on so much make up I could have scraped it off with a knife. 
She was also useless in knowing what to do. I wanted her to tube the foal and stitch it in place until he was suckling. She said there was no need and he would suck when he was hungry. 

Nick to the rescue. We tubed him and he stitched the tube in place. I had to milk Dutchess and feed the foal via the tube ofa four or five days before he got the idea of drinking first from a bottle and then from the mare. 

After this Nick became our vet.


----------



## Foxhunter

Before we moved Boss had gone into partnership with a man who had a flat bred filly. She had done well racing and had a foal at foot and was in foal to amvery goosmstallion. 
I was shocked at her appearance as she was very thin. 
Some mares put their all into the foal but this mare just would not eat. She was an odd one. I had her on her own with the foal, other horses were around her but I didn't have anything to run with her, the brood mares all being away at stud. In the end I put Madam out with her and this was when I first noticed how Madam herself was an oddity. 

Most horses when it comes to feed time will stick their nose in a bucket and stay there until it is finished and then move to another feed if they can drive that horse away. 
Not Madam, she would come for her feed, never in any hurry, then wait for whoever else was with her to start eating. 
With the mare Louisa, she would stand with her and they would eat together from the same feeder, first Madam would take some and then Louisa (the foal had its own feeder) slowly Louisa began to gain weight. 

The following spring she went away to a stud farm to foal and be covered by a stallion they were standing. She went a month before her due date to settle in. 
She foaled a colt this time. A couple of weeks later we had a call saying that she was loosing a lot of weight and just not eating. Evidently she hadn't been eating since she arrived there. 

She had little milk and the foal was being supplemented and she hadn't been covered because of her condition. 

I loaded Madam in the horse box and took her up there. I had the stud put Louisa and the foal on a small paddock and put Madam on with her,
Plus a feed bowl. 
Immediately Louisa started to eat, one mouthful each formabout half the feed and then Madam stopped eating and let Louisa finish the lot. 

Non of us could really believe what was happening. The foal was nuzzling all around Madam and she never bothered at all. I drove home with an empty horsebox and Madam stayed with Louisa until she was confirmed in foal. 

It wasn't a matter of the two mares being 'married' they never called doubt if one was removed or rushed to greet each other if they had been separated, they just ate together, another thing I saw with the three being together was how the foal was nearly always with Madam only using his dam as a mobile milk bar. 

On weaning the colt was sold and someone offered amlot of money for Louisa so she was sold too. We kept the first filly, Lulu, until she won two or three races as a two year old and she too was sold. 

.................

Madam foaled a colt, what an ugly foal he was! He had such big joints that he looked out of proportion! I don't know how but he ended up with the name Duncan. Watching him in the field with the TBs was quite funny as they would all race around and then Duncan would show a beautiful extended trot and various other spins and turns coming from hos father's side of the family. The TBs would try but never had the panache of Duncan. 
If he was ugly as a foal then I can assure you he was even worse as a yearling and two year old. It wasn't until he was three did he grow into himself, then he was spectacular to look at. He wasn't particularly build but did end up at 16.2 at five.

I broke him in and friend Oli bought him to do dressage with.


----------



## Foxhunter

I had become good friends with Nick and Miranda. Their two children, Harry and Kitty were great children though Nick was always lax on the discipline. 
I had a cheap Cassio watch, waterproof told date and time, had a stop watch and an alarm. Harry was fascinated with it and bought himself one. It was miles to big for him I recalling I have to smile at him proudly ycling up the drive to show me - the best part was that it had more features than mine! 
He was cycling around in meandering circles telling me all about it, he tried to cycle across the drain but was going in the same direction as the metal bars and the front wheel dropped down and he went over the handlbars. He was quite upset because I laughed. One day I was in their kitchen. Kitty, who was about four was sat at the table building something with Harry's K-nex. Harry deliberately knocked it to the floor. Miranda told him to pick it up, at first he refused and then when he did he threw it hard onto the table where a piece bounced and hit Kitty on the face. 
He then refused to apologise. His watch was on the table and I picked it up telling him that he wouldn't get the watch back unless he apologised and picked up all the K-nex and helped Kitty build something. 
He threw a fit. I just laughed and each time he said something nasty I told him I would keep the watch for two days, this increased to a week. Before he could throw another tantrum I to.d him that next time it would double so I would keep the watch for two weeks and I would hide it somewhere safe and probably forget where I put it. 
That stopped him. 

After a couple of days Nick came up and asked if Harry could have his watch back. I said it hadn't been a week and he could get it back on Thursday, not before. 

The Thursday came and Harry arrived to get his watch. I told him to go back home and his mother could give it to him. Before leaving I had placed it in a cupboard in their kitchen, Miranda knew where it was all along. 

Nick was a great believer in natural medicines and was always testing things out. Then came a big blow, they were moving to Spain. They weren't going to sell the Old Rectory but renting it out. He had sold his practise to another vet, James, an older man who, by shear coincidence had been married to Mary. 
Now, they might well have been divorced for many years but Mary always said he wasn't a good vet with horses. I knew this wasn't from ill feelings but probably the truth. 
I said this to Boss but he said we would give it a try. 

Suzie, since she had her accident , had severely damaged a muscle running from her elbow, up across her ribs to her hip. This meant when she foaled she had no push on her left. I had foaled her at home - the moment she started I called Nick and we were both needed. 
I told the Boss I didn't want to foal her at home but he said it would be all right. 
Wrong. She got into trouble, I called James and he was worse than useless. 
The foal,was dead, to big to come out, needed dissecting to get it away. James insisted that he knocked Suzie out using Immobeline, the stuff that they use to knock out elephants in the wild. I argued not to as it wasn't a good drug for this situation. 
He used it and no sooner was Suzie out she died. The Boss who was there was in tears, I was so angry. 
Next morning Boss said to me, "I never want that man on the premises again." 
I didn't argue. 

I decided to try another practise and met with Alistair, I liked him and the other vets who dealt with horses and worked there. He was our vet from that moment on and we have remained friends since I retired.


----------



## knightrider

I love how your instincts are right on every time. I'll bet they really appreciated you.


----------



## Foxhunter

I don't know what it is about my inner 'knowing' it is very perculiar. I have learned to listen to it though there are times when I choose not to and usually regret it later. 

A good example of this was when I was replacing the electo tape with the electro rope. I used the screw in fitments. When it came to the gateway I was going to toe off on a plastic 'egg' as these are designed to take the strain. I found I didn't have one so tied off an the screw in meaning to change it later. 
As with these things later didn't happen! I had turned the fillies out one side of the track and then turned out two geldings the other side. One cantered away, turned and very half heartedly went to jump the rope. I was stood with the two handles of the electo rope gate. Horse took the top line on his chest and it pulled the fitment out and the handl out my hand. The rope caught around my thumb nearly severing it. I could see the joint moving when I washed it off. 

I should have changed the fitment or, gone and fetched an egg at the time but I didn't. 
Sometimes my guardian angel need to hit me around the head with a lump of 4 x 2!!!!!!!


----------



## knightrider

Awful! How did your thumb heal? Permanent damage? Complete recovery? I hope the latter.


----------



## Foxhunter

I was meant to be going hunting with Boss and a livery but that was out! I did my usual thing, went to the horses first aid cupboard. Washed it off under the tap - lots of bold, hibiscrub, wound powder, dressing bound fairly tightly with duct tape. 
I think it is the only time I have sent horses out without plaiting them. 
I called my GP and went to surgery. 
The Dr was a miserable woman, no one liked her. No greeting when you went in. 
"So, you _think_ your thumb needs a stitch?"
"No, I never said that, I said my thumb will need several stitches."
"Well, let me have a look." 
"Have you some tissues, it was bleeding a lot." 
She handed me a single tissue. 
I undressed my thumb which I had strapped so I couldn't bend it. It had stopped bleeding. 
"well bend it then."
I did as told and the blood just shot out going everywhere over her desk. 
She thrust a box of tissues at me and told me to go with her to the nurses room.
Once in there she was talking to the nurse in a miserable way. I, with her still there, asked the nurse, "Is she always this miserable or is it only with me?"
The nurse never said a word.

I sat on a chair alongside the sink, with the tap running over the cut. She went to get another doctor for his opinion. They decided I should go to a hospital and see a plastic surgeon. 
"No, I haven't time for tha, just stitch it up."
"Won't do that as the joint is exposed."
They trimmed off loose pieces of flesh, dressed it. I was in need of a tetanus jab so she told me to drop my trousers. 
"Not likely, I have to rode horses, do it in my arm. 
I pulled my sweater up and half off exposing the top of my arm. As she went to stick the needle in I yelled, really loudly, "Oweeee!"
She jumped back and remarked that she hadn't even put the needle in. 
"I know, that's for when you do!" 

Sitting at the computer filling things in I saw her start to shake and the shaking got faster, finally she was roaring with laughter. 
I turned to the nurse and said, "See she can laugh!"

Needless to say, by the time I drove home it was bleeding heavily. I redressed it as before and it healed fine.


----------



## Foxhunter

Sharon hadn't really ridden anything but happy hackers. As she was quite small and light I let her ride Lulu th flat filly away and she did it well. 
A bit later I was starting two geldings Boss had brought over from Ireland. 
Mick was a bright bay, gave the impression he was a dangerous horse when eating as he would throw a back leg out. He gave the impression of being a boss horse but he was always last in the pecking order. 
Muldoon was a dark bay/brown horse. I didn't rate him much, always though he was ungenerous. 
So, not long after arriving several of us were going out for a ride. 
Boss was on Frenchie, I was on Mick, Sharon on Muldoon and Nick on something else. 
Boss had ridden out onto the road to talk to someone in a car, Nick and Sharon were in the gateway and I was mounting Mick. We started to walk up the road when Muldoon just swung around and bucked hard sending Sharon flying straight onto the road. I abandoned Mick, grabbed Muldoon got after him, told Sharon to get on Mick and I mounted Muldoon and gave him what for all the way up the hill. 
I rode him for a couple of weeks. A lad who was PT to Pting came to rode out and wanted to rode Muldoon. He got buried three times on one ride. I told the Boss to sell him as he would never really try when racing. 

Sharon was on Charlie and I was on Mick, we had been for a lovely ride and were just walking back down the hill. Both horses were on a loose rein. Mick suddenly made a nasty face at Charlie, I corrected him - Charlie retaliated by making a face back. Mick leapt sideways onto the bank, lost his footing and went down head first. I was straight over his head landing on the top of my head and then flat on my back. 
I thought my ears had been driven down level with my nipples and saw stars. 
Mick scrabbled to get up trying not to stand on this person lying spread eagled in front of him. He did quite a good job in that he never actually trod on me but his back foot caught me on my eyebrow. 
Lots of blood as happens with a face injury. 

I sent Sharon to catch him as he was a hundred yards ahead. I walked back home still seeing stars. 
I had Stewart drive me to the doctors and had about six stitches in my eyebrow. 

Oh boy, what a corker of a black eye I had hours later. Well worth showing off. 

Boss had his brother and his wife staying and they had gone out for the day. They were sat out in the garden having a drink when I went down to see them. Mrs Boss, brother and his wife were shocked and immediately asked if I was OK. 
Boss just laughed and asked how long will you opponent be in hospital?


----------



## Foxhunter

in my newspaper I read an article about a new laser treatment for birthmarks and read it to Sharon and told her she should ask her GP about it. 
She did and turned up with a letter saying that the hospital would see her. 
She had had laser treatment previously a thumbnail size on her cheek but it was going to scar her so they wouldn't do any more. This was a different laser. 
She was told that she shouldn't drive afterwards so asked if I would take her. 

We got to the clinic and sat around waiting. The nurse said the treatment was like being stung with an elastic band, 

Sharon went in and about twenty minutes later came out. I had never seen anything like it all down over her cheek were black marks from the bruising the laser caused. She said she was trying to get to 100 zaps but called it off at 93. 

Next day it looked even worse but she turned up for work uncomplaining. Ice packs helped and after a week the bruising dissipated and afterma month she had skin coloured spots in the sea of red. 
Funny thing was that it seemed to stay that way and then just before her next treatment it started to fade even more. 

Two things about thentreatment. 

My Mother and niece (6) were staying I was taking Sharon for treatment. As usual she was black when she came out. We were driving home. Sharon in the front with me, Mum and Eliesha in the back.
Eliesh, "Sharon, will the black make your face go white?"
"I hope so."
"Well then next time I come up you had better tell me who you are because I might not recognise you."

The other one was when the son of the gardener had come to do some welding. Sharon had had treatment the day before. We were sat in the kitchen having a cuppa, Sharon had an ice pack on her face. 

He asked, "What have you done to your face Sharon?"
"I've had treatment on it yesterday." 
All he said was "Oh." In a puzzled sort of voice. 
I was reading my paper and started to giggle, I turned and said tomSaron, "He's thinking bloody hell they've made it far worse!" 
"Well, they have, " he said. 
It was true, it was worse after treatment by a mile.


----------



## Foxhunter

When Nick and Miranda moved to Spain they rented the house out to some man and his family. There was an older son and two younger daughters, one had brain damage and was partially blind and mentally challenged. They had a big dog, a lurcher (running hunting dog) that had come from a gamekeeper. 

Friend Dave had the Land for his sheep and Ron, our gardener was working there a day a week. 

It was a May Bank Holiday and Dave's partner, Mandy had come with Sharon and I to a show with some of the youngsters. I had left the dogs shut in whilst we were away. 

We had just turned the horses out when Dave stopped cussing and swearing. He had two dead lambs and a ewe he had to shoot as she had been mauled so badly. 
I was relieved that my dogs had been shut up and couldn't have done it. Being a holiday there were tourists about and it was thought it was some dog that got loose from one of them.
Trampus, next door's dog, Dave was sure had been sheep trained by the gamekeeper who Dave knew well. 

A few weeks later Stewart was in The Rectory field doing some topping when he saw Trampus come out the house, go into the field and bring down a ewe. Naturally he stopped and ran shouting, the dog went back indoors. 
Dave went to see the renters and told them about their dog. 
They begged and pleaded to be allowed to keep him as their disabled daughter was so fond of him. Dave agreed with the proviso that the dog was never left off leash outside and when he was out he was muzzled. 

The fun began. 

These people had not a clue about country life. At the back of the house there was a large pond, there was a boat you could row around it and the man managed to knock the monk (the overflow drain) off and the pond drained in no time at all. He called me to ask what to do. I told him to call the local farming contractors and in the evening three of them came up to fix it. 

They asked if they could borrow the boat on our lakes which I fetched on the back of the ATV. The pond was mostly empty with a deep puddle around where the monk should have been. To get to it they had to wade through mud so the lads were filthy. It wasn't an easy job at all and as with most situations it was best to see the funny side of things which annoyed the man enormously. 

They could get the pipe back into the hole but not fix it and it ended up with one of them in the water, working blindly. Eventually it was secured. 

By this time I was calling him **** Head (DH) it suited him well. 
He had set up a dove cote and had a dozen white doves. I get a call asking to keep my cats away from hos place as they were killing the doves. This I doubted as the cats were always about the buildings. I had never seen them going next door. 
I was walking up to the top field, the doves were flying about below me. All of a sudden there was a flurry of feathers and a sparrow hawk had dropped and taken a dove. It was in the field below me killing the dove. DH didn't believe me. 

Come the August I want out to check the stock and found two dog killed lambs. It had begun. Naturally I went to see DH and he said Trampus hadn't been out and to prove his ignorance said that even if he had he would have forgotten about killing sheep. 

One morning John, whose sheep,were grazing the Land came down to bring them in. Normally had had two or three dogs but one ***** had just whelped, the other had a broken leg which left his old dog, Ben. I went to help and took old Pye who by this time was in need of bifocals and a hearing aid. 

We walked down to the bottom of the field ready to drive the flock to the top and through the gate. As we walked down I saw three youngsters the other side of the causewa, put their heads down looking at something.

At this point the dogs had gathered the sheep which were running down the field rather than up, with that I saw Trampus come under both gates of the causeway and immediately grab a sheep. I yelled and he immediately let do and run back across the causeway. 

It took us a while to get the sheep back and penned up. Immediately I had I called next door and the wife apologised and said thatnthey had painters in and one of them had let Trampus out. That evening DH came to see me saying that it wasn't Trampus it was one of the gypsey dogs. 
He stared me in the eyes as he swore it wasn't Trampus. He didn't like it when I said that as he hadn't been home when it happened and his wife had said Trampus had been loose, how could he say that? 
He was angry, not, I hasten to add, as angry as me but I had had years of practise with Mary over keeping my cool! 

I held his gaze as he asked, "Are you calling me a liar?"
""Well, I am liking you to Holy Joe. Do you know why?"
"No, I don't."
"Well, he tripped on the truth and broke his neck so he never went to heaven."

He stomped off. 

I had informed the police every time a sheep was killed, I took out a rifle license Boss had a rifle this gave me the right to use it. 

So over the space of a couple of years several sheep were killed. It was difficult to actually catch Trampus in the act as it often happened at night. 
One day there were fourtann dead lambs, these were well grown lambs weaned. It was carnage. They just had their throats torn out. 

Then one day I found my ewes had been savaged, they were the only sheep on the place at that time. Their lambs were up on the hill field. 
One old ewe had a hole in her neck I could have put my foot into and a couple had their udders badly mauled. 
I called the police and the Hunt to come shoot those badly mauled. 
I got old girl into the back of the ATV and brought her into a stable. She managed to get up and asked for food. I gave her some pellets which she ate and also had a long drink. I decided to give her a chance. 

There was no proof itmwas Trampus. 

Just a couple of days later Sharon and I were going out on exercise when I heard the girls calling Trampus. That was it. Sharon put the horses away. I went down to the house and fetched the rifle, Boss was away, went to the top of the buildings and waited. 
Sure enough Trampus was trotting up the field he had mauled the ewes in. He came into the big field and stood looking. The ewes were in the home field to my right. 
I could see from the way Trampus's stance changed that he had spotted the flock. He trotted down came up the home field wide of the sheep and then as he reached the top started to run at them. 

That was it. I shot him. Otmwas a good clean kill but I put one in his head to make sure. 

I called the police who came out a couple of hours later as the cop who had been dealing with it was off duty at the time I called. 

When he arrived he asked if the dog had actually got hold of a ewe I said not. He said it was a pity as if the dog had wool in his teeth it would be better proof. 
No problem. 
I gathered some wool from a friendly ewe and we works some into his teeth. The cop took the body next door. Mr and Mrs DH were away. The oldest son was ther with the two girls. 
The sh it hit the fan.


----------



## Foxhunter

Both parents came back from London, DH came up and was furious telling me I would see him in court. Again I kept my cool and just said, "See you there."

Boss returned a few days later and was as worried about it as me. 

We then get a letter saying that the dog had been unlawfully killed. DH had an autopsy done and that found the dog had no lamb meat in its stomach nor wool in its teeth. He had also sent a copy to the police. The cop and I had a coffee and cigarette and a good laugh. 

The 'vet' DH used was a homeopathic vet thus their conclusions would have zero impact in court. 

We ignored the letter. 

About three months passed and I get a very official letter from a London barrister stating a court time in London and wanted to know who my barrister would be. 

I wrote back saying that I would represent myself but please could they answer me a question. Would I have to bring a VCR or would the court have one because not only was the dog shot with. 22 bullet it was shot with a Sanyo video camera. 

Never heard another word.

DH thought anyone that was a rural worker was ignorant of the legal system. No way would a barrister take this on as it would go through magistrates first. I don't believe the letter was real but from a friend of his. 

He really thought he was superior to all that lived around him. Ignorant was his middle name. 

One day, not long after they moved in he was talking to the Boss in my presence and more or less aid that country folk were ignorant and of a lower IQ. The Boss looked at me and winked. 

I turned around and remarked, "Not all of us are village idiots. I happen to have a degree or two." 

"Oh he's? What University?" 

"Cambridge, Two firsts in English and a 2 2 in mathematics. I do this work because I love it. I'd rather be comfortable and happy than rich and miserable." 

Boss kept a straight face DH just stood there looking like a goldfish out of water. 

All lies but he fell for it.


----------



## Foxhunter

Oh, the Old Girl ewe was treated but it was a heck of a wound. The flies were bad and I couldn't keep them away. In the end I had a rolled neck sweater that I cut the arms off and sewed a piece of elastic on the hem which went around her back end. I had three of them and it worked in keeping the flies away. She was a good sheep and would allow me to change it with no hassle.


----------



## Foxhunter

Most shepherds, if they have big flocks, will start lambing early, February, March time and continue through to the end of April. They are set up for it with indoor pens and sheds. John, who had sheep with me, started lambing in February and I had said I would take on any bottle lambs. He arrived one afternoon with a box. He put it on the kitchen floor and said that he didn't think either were viable. 
One was t as it had died on the journey over. The other, a ewe lamb was tiny, she had wool on her legs and her poll and the rest of her was naked, 
She couldn't or wouldn't suckle so I tubed her and left the tube in place. I would feed her 10mls of milk at a time, roughly every hour. She couldn't even stand. I had her in the kitchen under a heat lamp in a box. When I came in there was my Border Terrier in the box with her, licking her clean and snuggled close together. At night I had the box on my bed and would feed her every hour. I didn't really even wake up properly to do so. 
Then I noticed she was suckling Maisey so I started her on a bottle. Still she couldn't take much more than 20 MLS of milk at a time or she was in pain. 
Maisey, who had had two litters of pups, came into milk. She had never had a phantom pregnancy nor was the timing right after her last heat but she was assisting in feeding Rachel as the lamb was now called. 

Rachel lived inside for about six weeks, I then decided it was time for her to go outside with other bottle lambs. She disagreed big time, as did Maisey. Rachel laid in a stable facing the wall, she refused to eat or take a bottle. Maisey who would take any dog off hunting with her, lay outside the stable door refusing to move or, to eat or drink. 
Rachel came back indoors. I did have her paper trained and as far as she was concerned she was a dog not a sheep. 

I put her out with the other bottle lambs on the steep bank down to the garden but she would wriggle her way out and be indoors lying on the sofa with Maisey. 
When I took the dogs for a walk Rachel would come too. She would walk in behind me with the dogs and behaved more like a dog then a sheep. 
Eventually she got to big to escape through the wire netting and settled with the other lambs and then progressed to being out in the fields. However, she absolutely refused to take any notice of the dogs rounding up the flock but would run to whoever was bringing them in and walk with them. 

I could bring in a large flock on my own without dogs just by standing at the gate calling her name, she would come running and he rest would follow. 
The downside was that if she found a way of escaping, squeezing past the horses when bringing them in or out, she made for indoors often taking friends with her. Not so funny. 

When one of the Bosses grand children left the gate open from the lawn into the field Rachel saw her chance. She and about forty others all raised through the gate. Several stopped to smell, sorry, prune the roses whilst Rachel and a few others raced up the steps to the yards. The gate was closed but there was a gap under the bottom so in trying to squeeze under she lifted it off the hinges allowing the others to follow her. 
I came back to chaos. Sheep everywhere. I got them out the garden only to find about a dozen indoors. Messy. 

Rachel had three lots of lambs, twins first time, triplets second and quads her third lambing. The following year she went down with twin lamb disease, lack of calcium. I drenched her and also injected her but she never got to her feet again. 
Maisey spent a lot of time laying with her in the pen but after three weeks it was best to euthanise her. 

It was a sad day.


----------



## Foxhunter

Boss was diagnosed with oral cancer. He had to go into hospital for an operation to remove his lower jaw and other things too. This turned out to be a seventeen hour operation. 
Naturally Mrs Boss was extremely worried and a lot of that was taken out on me. She could be plain nasty and was. Her sister, Cilla, was staying with her a lot and was shocked at how she was behaving towards me. 

I went to see Boss and found he had many visitors, to many as he was exhausted, so I didn't go again but would write him a letter. Theses were filled with stable news and much about nothing. He told me that he enjoyed them. 

Cilla came to apologise to me after one nasty rant from Mrs Boss and I just told her there was no need. I took it all as a compliment. I could see that this puzzled her. I pointed out that in times of stress the stresssed person took it out on the ones closest to them so, I considered myself 'family.' 
I knew it was worry and fear that she was reactiing to and that could be understood. I just took it all and forgot about it. 

When Boss came home he was bandaged around the side of his face and to his embarrassment, every time he smelled something 'tasty' like coffee he oozed from just below his jaw. This was from a saliva gland. As he wasn't allowed to drive because of his arm in a sling, (they had removed bone from his arm to rebuild his jaw) I took him to a hospital appointment, he wanted the surgeon to operate to seal the gland. 
This was refused and I could see the disappointment in his face. 
As I was driving home he was saying how he was embarrassed having to always wear such an obvious dressing. I just laughed and told him to look on it as a party piece, take bets from friends that he could drool from his ear. 
He just let out a big roaring laugh and said, "Trust you to be so bloody positive!" 

It all stopped about two weeks later. Pity, he could have made a lot of money and increased my wages! 

Two years later the cancer returned on his tongu and part of that was removed and remade from thigh muscles. Prognoses wasn't good.


----------



## Foxhunter

A gelding we had bred from Seabury, Frenchie's sister, was a big horse. I started him in the late autumn when the racehorses had gone into training so, he was nearly four. 
He wasn't any problem at all. His work was fairly light, just hacking about the area. Inwasmtrotting him upma long hill when he suddenly felt dead under me. He had no energy whatsoever. Something was wrong. 

I thought it might be that he was hitting a growth spurt but at the back of my mind I knew it was something different. Blood tests showed he was fighting a viral infection. Not a lot to be done just let him get over it. 
He didn't. 

We tried all,sorts of treatments including importing medals from the US and Australia. They did diddly squat. Clifford looked poor, his coat was dull, he had no energy and was miserable. 
Afternhe was turned out for the summer he started to look better and bloods showed improvement, then the white cells became elevated again and we were back to square one. 
I noticed that his dock was very flaccid and he had begun to drag his hind feet badly. More blood drawn and this was sent off to a specialist lab for testing for Cauda Equina, a disease where the body turns on the nerves causing paralysis. 
As this is an expensive test the man doing it would wait until he had several bloods to test together. We were told that only 1:500 was positive. 
Clifford's was that one. 
Usually this diagnosis is a death sentence as by the time it is recognised the paralysis is more severe causing paralysis of the bowl and back legs. 

I called Nick to ask what he thought and he sent me some herbs he had been working on to boost the immune system. I started Clifford on them and within two days he was brighter and happier. His appetite improved and he had a spark to his walk. Just a week later he was bucking and playing in the field. Two weeks later I started working him lightly and he was bouncy and pleased to be doing something. 

I worked him as normal but his tail remained flaccid and he continued to drag is back feet. He never went into racing but went as a much loved happy hacker/ hunter toma friend of Boss.


----------



## Foxhunter

before the Boss had his op, I had been given a Welsh pony, Rain, whomsuffered with bad laminitis. She had been to a specialist farrier for treatment, the owner's daughter had outgrown her and he suggested that she let me have her. 

My sister and brother in law were struggling financially, they had been in Kuwait working. They only had the one girl and fortunately they had returned to the UK for Sally to have her second child. So, when the invasion from Iraq occurred they were safe but their possessions weren't.. 
They had bought a lovely house which was fine when they were working out there but back home taxes and Henry without a job took its toll. 

Henry was going back to the Middle East but then Verity, the second girl, was diagnosed with Lymphatic Leukaemia and immediately hospitalised on the mainland. Sally was also pregmant with her third. 

Sally was going to go back to work as soon as the baby was born, Henry took a job on the mainland and they struggled with money. Sally had to stay at the hospital and Eliesha, who was at school, stayed with my parents. It was a hard time formthem all. 
Mum and Dad, in their 70s found Eliesha a bit much at weekends so, I would drive to the ferry, Mum and Eliesha would come over, we would visit the hospital and then back to my place. 

The day Verity was to be released from the hospital, I think it was about eight weeks of treatment, Sally went into labour and had her son. 

When back at home there were many day trips to the hospital, this was expensive as Sally had to take her car. Dealing with a sick child and a baby was nigh impossible as a foot passenger on the ferry. More expense. 

Mum and Dad were brilliant and as soon as Tobias was on a bottle they would have him if Sally had to take Verity to the hospital. There were many times when she was in for longer treatments. Fortunately it all went well. 
Times when she was allowed out they would come and stay. They had rides on the big horses and loved it. 

So, with permission I fetched Rain. Mrs Boss had two grand children who came fairly often so they could ride her too. 

I had told the girls that when Verity finished her treatment I would buy them a pony to share. They were excited about this. I never told them I had Rain, Sally and Henry brought them up as Aunty had a surprise for them. 
When they arrived they were excited but to polite to ask what their surprise was. I told them to go find it. They searched the cottage with me saying "Cold" they went outside and i said "Warmer" so it went on until they found Rain whomwas tied up to the loose barn with ribbons in her mane and tail. 
On seeing her the girls stopped dead and just stared. They looked at me and the Sally, they didn't dare ask if she was for them. They just stood there with their mouths open. Eventually Eliesha said, "But Verity hasn't finished her treatment! So she can't be for us." 

I tacked Rain up and we went into the arena. Eliesha got on to ride, it was really her first time of riding on her won, that pony was a saint, she did all that was asked of her. She trotted around with Eliesha sitting very deep and barely moving. Rain thought this meant canter so started to canter. Again Eliesha didn't move but sat deep. Rain thought "Oh, I have a rider on me!" And bucked sending Eliesha sailing. 
Concerned Mother and Aunt just laughed. 
She was a bit miffed that we found it funny but was soon back on board. Rain never bucked with her again. With Verity Rain was so good. Erich was not at all strong and so thin, when she asked Rain to trot she jogged and any loss of balance she came back to a walk. She was really looking after her young riders. 

Keeping Rain sound was a hard task, she would be off her feet consistently, for her tomwalk up the concrete to get to her paddock was painful to,watch as she crept along. 
One morning I had her with an old Hunter, Sam, I would have her rope across Sam's chest so he sort of pulled her along, this particular morning Sam wasn't acting silly, he was jogging and swishing his tail and bringing his back end off the ground. I then realised that Rain on his other side, was nipping him on the flank and shooting forward! When I let her out innthe paddock she shot off with a buck and a fart then high tailed it around the paddock. 

I thought she was having a good day - a very good day. It made me think of whatnwas different and I realised that when feeding earlier I had put a scoop of Clifford's D-tox in her feed by mistake, I couldn't see how this would help her as it had only been 20 minutes earlier. 

Rain had limited grazing and was brought into the arena and then back out in her paddock in the afternoon. 

When I went tomcatch the brood mares I would open her gate and she would creep her way down to the stables. Usually I had hosed the mares off and put them all away before Rain appeared. This afternoon as I caught the mares she shot out of her gate and upma steep bank where she was eating as much grass as she could. As I led the mares past her - she was higher than me, I swished a rope at her. With that she bucked and cantered down the concrete straight into one of the mare's stables! 

Next morning she was crippled. I put her back in her stable, gave her another breakfast with some D-tox in it. Thirty minutes later she was raring to go. 

I reported to Nick about this and played around with it a lot, Rain could graze on good grass providing she had more herbs. I did keep a strict regime with her diet but the D-tox kept her comfortable and happy.

She was a Cushings sufferer but Pergolide didn't help her at all.


----------



## Foxhunter

I loved having the children with me but oh boy, there was so much trouble they could get into. 

Mummy came to stay with all three. Tobias was nearly three. Sharon and I had been out on exercise and when we got back the girls came running down for their ride. 

I had both doors to the tackroom open so the girls could get their hats. All of a sudden I heard Tobias crying. I ran to see what was up and somehow he had managed to get a pot of paint stripper off the draining board, got the lid off and got it in his eye. 
I grabbed him, held him face up between my knees and with one hand held his eye open and thenother, trickled the hose into his eye. Then rushed him to the doctor. 

We were seen more or less immediately and after examining the eye the doc said that he thought he had just rubbed his eye and got it on the eyelid. 
Atnthe age of nearly three, that boy was, and still is a charmer! I told him to say thank you to the doctor a d with that he ran back climbed onto his lap, put his arms around his neck and gave him a hug and a kiss. 
Doc said he had never been thanked somwell. It really touched him. 

...........

I was given three lambs, very sickly early in the year. I had them in the tackroom. The children and Sally were with me. I had to go to the vets for something and Eliesha begged and pleaded we took the very sick ram lamb with us. She would pay. 
So we get there. Vet examines said lamb and asked Eliesha "Is this your lamb?"
"No, this is my brother's, mine is a girl and she will get better, my sisters is a girl and that is already better, this one is my brother's and it will probably die."
The vet agreed with her. 
It died.

..............

I had just about finished lambing and the ewes were all in the field. I was going out on the ATV checking them. One ewe had limbed twins and I wanted to catch them and ring them. I drove by her and Eliesha jumped off the ATV and caught one lamb, the other took off down the field with it mother. Tobias was running flat out after it. With a rugby tackle hecaught the lamb. 
He was so proud of himself and was facing up the hill to me holding the lamb saying, "I've got it Aunty, I've got it!"
What he didn't see was the ewe charging at him! She butted him on the top of his legs, his feet went straight out with thencharge, he landed on the ewe's back did a backward roll, landed on his feet staggering and yelling, "I still got it Aunty!" 
The ewe made another charge but he stood his ground and kicked her onnthe nose so she went away. 

............
I had a load of old hay piled up on the back of the ATV with Eliesha sat on the top. Thismwas a six wheeler with a trolley over the back four wheels. Tobias was sat in front with me and Verity behind me. 
Verity had opened the gate into the field where the cattle were and climbed back on. I accelerated away to hear yelling. Eliesha had fallen off the back and was sat in a pile of mud. 

.............

Tobias and Verity were on the old tractor. It had the grass cutter on the back. I was in the barn with the farrier, Tobias knocked the tractor out of gear and it started rolling backwards - straight to a steep bank with only post and rails to stop it. 
I vaulted over the gate and jumped onto the foot plate and managed to turn it up the slope and then get it into gear. 

................

I loved having them with me but oh boy, was it good when they went home!


----------



## Foxhunter

When Nick and Miranda moved to Spain they gave me a pony they had for their two children, Sponsor. Another Welsh Pony, he was in his late twenties and in his hey day had been a top first ridden pony. Even in his senior years he wasn't beyond testing the girls. 

I would go out into the fields to do work and the girls would ride the ponies. Eliesha didn't much like cleaning tack so she nearly always rode bareback. Tobias would come too on his pedal tractor. Watching the two girls give atobias a good start they would race down the hills having great fun. Then I bought for very little money, another show pony. I knew there were problems as he was dirt cheap. 
It didn't take long to find out that he would do one stride of canter and then buck and buck hard. I don't know how many times Eliesha came off him but she never stopped trying. 
There was nothing wrong with him, it was something he did because he had got away with it. 

We were out one day and trotting up the road he got a little left behind and bucked Eliesha off. It was plain dirty. I was so mad I put her on the horse I was riding and got on Rolo. 
I immediately asked him to trot and he was a bit reluctant so he had my dressage whip wrapped around his backside, this sent him into a canter whereby he did thenisual one stride and tried to get his head down to buck. I yanked my hands up socking his mouth, wrapped the whip around him again and cantered him up the road towards home. At the gate, which was at the bottom of the steepest part of the hill, he went to nap into thengate, another couple of whacks and I cantered him up the steep hill and all the way to the top. By the time he got to the top he was heaving. He had some marks from my whip but he didn't have the energy to buck. 
I stuck Eliesha back on him and with me on another horse, made him canter up the hill again - to the top. Eliesha had seen how hard I had raised my hands and when he went to duck his head down she did the same. 
He never bucked again. 

..........
One day I told the children to get the ponies ready and I would be up to the arena to give them a lesson. Verity was on Sposor and Tobias on Rain. 
I got into the arena to see Tobias riding around at a walk and trot with a rather loose girth. When I say loose I mean loooooose, he hadn't even done it up. 
I asked Eliesha why she hadn't helped him and her reply was, "He wanted to do it on his own!" 
I told Tobias and he instinctively leant over to have a look and fell off. 
Poor Rain went through a lot with him. He wasn't fussed whether he rode or not. He preferred the tractor and ATV. If I left them on their own I would find him standing on her quarters, riding backwards or trying to use her neck as a slide. He didn't care. 

Later I bought him a junior ATV which he loved and rode for hours at a time. 

The children had to work when with me. They would get on and just do jobs they knew had to be done. I have a picture of Tobias aged about five, pushing one of the big barrows up tot the top yard. He was to small to use the handles so would lift it by the brace bars. Another time I was power washing and he wanted to have a go. This was a big powerful machine and when he pulled the trigger he was sent backwards onto his butt. Not to be deterred he would lock the handle under his atom and hang on for dear life. 

There was an old ATV, a John Deere five wheeler, it was slow and rather worn out. I could leave Tobias to harrow the arena and he would be there for hours but it was always a job well done. 

One Easter when he was about eight he came on his own. The girls had both gone on a school trip. We were in town walking down the High Street and I noticed that majority of people coming towards us were smiling. When we got into the next shop he said, "Aunty, did you know that if you really smile at people they nearly all smile back?"
As said he is a charmer.


----------



## Foxhunter

I went back to where we had been to visit friends. Oli had called me to say that she was having a few problems with a 14.2 pony she had bought for her daughter Kate. 

This turned out to be a cracking chestnut pony. He had done very well showing in hand and had been kept as a stud but, on covering a mare his sheath would not retract so, he was gelded. 

He was sent to someone to break and then somewhere else to be sold. The problem was with mounting him, he would just freak. Also, Oli had a Welsh Cob x she was doing dressage with and this horse would buck anyone but Oli off and when Oli had someone rode Tango and her on Oli out Tango behaved very stud like. 

We had the horses tacked up and took Tango into the arena for me to leg Oli up. I made a total balls up of doing so, in racing as soon as the leg hits the hand you lift, with most others it's one two three. Tango wasn't sure about me being next to him.
Oli's leg hit my hand, I lifted, she was waiting for three, felt me lift and tried to go with it making a mess of it all. She was halfway across Tango and he freaked. I had a hand on his rein and he was going to stand up so I let go, he then bucked hard sending Oli flying kicking her in her crotch as he did so. As I helped Oli Tango went around the arena bucking. 
Oli went indoors to ice her privates. I caught Tango and put him in long lines. 

He lunged beautifully but having a second rein on him was new to him and he again freaked. Me being such a nice person didn't placate him but laughed at his antics. I had him so that he was really working, he stopped freaking with the outside line across his hock so, when I changed direction I brought the line across his back so it went under the saddle, this caused more freaking. 
When Oli came out I had the outside rein between his back legs. Oli noticed it straight away and offered to get it out. I said not, changed direction dropping the outside rein so he stepped over it then, had the other rein between his legs. 
Pony was quite warm but, he was remaining relaxed. He was no longer wary of me. 

Oli came in and I legged her up in an organised manner. 

I pulled Copper out, I went to the mounting block with him and mounted him. Oli was sat on Tango and said something to me. Cop looked at Oli, turned his head and sniffed my foot, looked at Oli and back at me. I asked him to walk on, he did two steps and started to buck. We headed straight into th earena where he bucked around. I was laughing, Oli was watching laughing. After half the long side he gave up. I slapped him across his neck laughing and told him he had to do better than that. 

We set off up the road and going over the bridge crossing the motorway someone had dumped a load of rubbish. Oli warned me Cop would spin and gallop back down the road. I was ready, slopping along without a care in the world or so Cop thought. He tried to whip around but I was ready, I had turned my long whip around so it was pointing forward and my left rein was short but my arm forward so it had no contact. The moment he went to spin I had that left rein tight and flicked him on the nose with my whip. He went straight past with no bother. 

The rest of the rode was uneventful. 

Oli brought the pair down to me when they went on holiday. The pair tried all sort of things the first couple of days but in the end they were great fun. I messed with Tango a lot, when Oli came to pick him up I had to show her Tango being mounted from the stirrup, Sharon doing round the world on him, backward rolls off his side and slipping off him over his quarters. I guess Tang had been sacked out. 

A couple of years later I was proud to hear that Kate and Tango represented GB in the junior dressage championships in Germany. 
Oli sold Copper and bought another horse (thismwas before she bought Duncan) that was going to go further in dressage than Copper could.


----------



## knightrider

I know exactly what you mean about giving someone a leg up. When I worked at Bowie Race Track, when we would give the riders a leg up, it was such a quick smooth motion, they'd pick up their leg, we'd lift and they were in the saddle in less than a second. When I try to give other riders a leg up, it's so much more awkward, even sometimes counting 1,2,3. You lift and it's just a dead weight the rider gives you . . . especially when you are so used to just tossing the jockey up, done.


----------



## Avna

knightrider said:


> I know exactly what you mean about giving someone a leg up. When I worked at Bowie Race Track, when we would give the riders a leg up, it was such a quick smooth motion, they'd pick up their leg, we'd lift and they were in the saddle in less than a second. When I try to give other riders a leg up, it's so much more awkward, even sometimes counting 1,2,3. You lift and it's just a dead weight the rider gives you . . . especially when you are so used to just tossing the jockey up, done.


There's the other end of the equation too. Last time someone gave me a leg up on a bareback horse she nearly heaved me over the other side. I had to grab mane to stay on. Maybe she expected me to be dead weight but I wasn't taught that way ...


----------



## Foxhunter

The three had been staying with me during school holidays. I was taking them to the ferry one evening and we decided to get fish and chips in the town only Tobias didn't want that he wanted a burger. 
The girls and I went into the fish shop whilst he went across the road to a kebab house where they did burgers and chips (fries) he liked. 

We went back to the car. At the time I had a Mitsubishi Shogun with seven seats. Tobias liked to sit in the very back. That was fine as it stopped any bickering. 
"Aunt, there's to much ketchup on my burger, I can't eat it."
"Give it here." I said holding my hand back so it could be put in my hand. 
The little turd did put it in my hand all right, he just slapped the ketchup side of the burger into my palm. It went everywhere. 

........... 

On one trip to the ferry with all three we were driving through the New Forest where the ponies roam free. There was a group of five or six donkeys stood by the side of the road, a donkey foal was in the centre of the road rolling. 

As this is very unusual I was worried he had colic. I stopped and got out to have a closer look. Donkey jumped up a d went to the adults. I stood at the front of my car watching to see if he was going to continue rolling. 
He didn't but instead came at me! 
This was ears back head stretched towards me meaning to bite me or chase me away. 

The kids were laughing loudly at this. I waited until he was in range and open handedly slapped him hard across the muzzle. He spun around and went for comfort from his mother. 
I saw a warden on my return and told him of the incident and he said that that foal had chased several people. I often wondered if he continued to do so or was more wary of humans after he got a dose of his own medicine!


----------



## Foxhunter

I took the two ponies, Sponsor and Rain home with me so the girls could do Pony Club Camp Jnr. I was asked if I would teach. 

I ended up with the more advanced children, eight of them all on a variety of ponies and all shapes and sizes. Eliesha was in my ride. The weather was hot and I had the dressage arena which was too deep sand so hard work for the ponies. 

One girl I had on the ride, Lizzie, was on a fairly hot pony, Champagne. Lizzie was short in the leg and a little plump. Another lad, Mark, was the son of Sue from the riding school, he was a big lad and very fair. His cousin. Two other girls were on the organiser's riding school ponies and two other girls on their own ponies. 

Assessing the young riders wasn't to difficult. Of them all I could see that Lizzie was worried about riding. Champagne was on the boil and when Lizzie was trotting two uncounted helpers ran to collect some cones by the side of the arena, Champ shot to the side and Lizzie went flying. A few tears but she got back on and did the exercise. 

That evening after we had finished, I had loaded up the two ponies (other ponies were staying there but with Rain's probl ms I wanted her stabled and so took Sponsor home too (home being the riding school) 

As I walked back to the buildings Lizzie was walking towards me, she had her head down and looked very sad. Several yards behind her was a tall, very smart woman. 
I stopped Lizzie and put my arm around her and told her I was very proud of the way she tried so hard. I promised her that the next day I would take the fizz out of Champagne and he would be more like a glass of water and she would have to kick him to make him go! 
She looked at me disbelieving me. I said, "I can see you don't believe me Lizzie but I promise it will be true!"
Eliesha and Verity overheard and Eliesha called out, "Aunty doesn't break her promises!" 

Lizzie looked back and smiled she walked on with her head up. The woman stopped to talk to me, she was Lizzie's mother. I apologised to her for Lizzie falling and said that the saddle didn't fit the pony as it kept moving side to side and asked if it would be OK if I changed it tomorrow. 
She agreed.

Next morning it was again very hot. I had the children riding around Lizzie as leader, Eliesha behind her. As they were walking I called out, "Off your pony and onto the one in front. They all swapped ponies, Lizzie was now at the back of the ride. I had swapped Champs saddle for Sponsors which was a much better fit. I had the ride walking and then sent Eliesha to canter Camp and do a 20m circle at A. She did and I told her to do it again as it was t round enough. I then sent her back to the front of the ride. I did this seven times. Poor Champ was knackered with all the cantering. I didn't have them all do circles but with the deep going and heat it was enough. When Lizzie got back on him I told her to canter to the back of the ride and she had to really kick him to make him go. 

When she had done so I just said, "Give Mr Water a long rein and let him get his breath back." 
I heard Lizzie say to Eliesha at lunch time, "Your Aunt does keep her promise."

Back in the day when I did camp it was always a lot of fun but now it was way to serious and boring. 
Mark was cleaning tack and was beetroot red, I could see he wasn't feeling well and asked him. He said he felt sick and dizzy. I mad him come out of the barn sit on a chair and I ran thenhose over his head and neck. He had heat stroke. Jen, the organiser was furious with me and yelled out, "Stop messing with that hose pipe." 
She came over demanding I stopped. I explained why I was doing it and she barely took a breath before continuing to berate me. Bless Mark because he threw up before she finished and it splashed all over her legs. Good shot lad! 

By the forth day the children were really enjoying themselves and working very hard. We went over to the show jumps which were left up in a course from a show the week before camp. 

Champ,was quite hot about jumping and Lizzie was again worried, I assured her it would be all right. I had the children jump each fence and wait the other side so Cham wasn't getting to excited. I told Lizzie to ride him into the hedge which was on two sides of the course, if he got to fast or strong. 

There had been a treble innthe course and I had removed the middle jump. I told them the course I wanted them to do and how to ride it. 
I placed ponies around the inside of the arena so Lizzie could rode to them to stop if necessary. It worked better than I had hoped. Fences where there weren't ponies standing near I stood on the landing side amcouple of strides away from the jump and that slowed him down. 
Lizzie had done a clear, what's more she had managed to get Champ back to a trot between fence - until the last. The distance between the fences was four non jumping strides, he did it in three and jumped poor Lizzie off. She landed heavily on hard ground and was semi winded. 

I love my sister's kids because they are always fair. Eliesha called out, "Oh no Lizzie, you were doing brilliantly!" The others all joined in with commiseration. Lizzie remounted and wanted to do the course again a bit later but she didn't want to do the last jump. I told her that was fine. 
She went around full of confidence and a smile on her face. She was in control. She came over the second to last to see me standing there, Chamo slowed down, I held my hand out as if I had a treat for him then, at the last moment moved to the side and clicked. Champ pricked his ears and trotted to the last fence and popped it nicely. 
The cheer that went up from the other riders was as if she had won an Olympic gold medal. I was proud of them all.

The last day parents came to watch. I had a couple of other children join my ride so they could jump. Not very successfully I might add, their ponies were running out at nearly every fence. They were making the common mistake of turning in a circle rather than going back against the side the ponies had dived. Once they had done that a couple of times they were doing way better. 

My lot were all going very well and Lizzie was stopping without any outside help. I was so pleased for her. 

After the display there was the presentation where the children all received rosettes and awards. I had been questioned by the organiser as to who had won the Most Improved Cup and was more or less told it should be one of her riders and not Eliesha as that would be seen as favouritism. 
I wouldn't say. 

The last award to be given was the Best Improved and when the District Commissioner announced Lizzie's name my lot all cheered, Lizzie was shocked and then had the biggest grin ever, she was like the Cheshire Cat. 

After her mother came to me and said thank you for giving her the cup. I told her I hadn't given it to her, she had earned it. 
I was then told that Lizzie had gone to camp for two previous years and had never got beyond the second day. This year she was up and ready to go an hour before time she was so keen to get there. 

It was great to know. I genuinely liked and admired the girl. I lent her Sposor's saddle and took hers to get a lot of the flocking removed so it wasn't perching. When I returned it Lizzie proudly showe me two first rosettes she had won in jumping classes and she said she had been in control all the way.


----------



## Foxhunter

I enjoy teaching, I find it great fun. I admit that I am tough and pupils get their money's worth! 

What I hate, and it is seen more and more nowadays, is parents over pushing their children, buying them ponies that are to much for them and getting really ratty if their darling doesn't win. 

The other thing that bugs me is when I am taking a lesson and parent is watching and telling their child what to do! Why pay me? 

in all the years I taught riding I only ever had two parents want to sue me. One was when a fat as in obese girl, slipped off the pony whilst doing exercises. Ponies were all stood still at the time and she just over balanced resulting in a fracture to her arm. 

This didn't go anywhere as I proved the claim for costs was false. 

The other was to my thinking, a genuine claim. I had a 10 year old girl out on a ride. We cantered along an old railway track. As her pony came back to a trot, she slipped off, landed on her feet still holding her rein, tripped and went down. 
I knew she was hurt as she wasn't crying, just white and biting her lip. 

It was her elbow. I had a farm hand drive her back to the stables where her father was waiting only he wasn't! He had gone with another father to the pub. The man drove there and as Rachel's father rode a motorbike, the other dad said he would drive them to the hospital. 
I had stressed NOT to bend her arm as I was sure it was her elbow injured. 

They got to A&E a nurse looked at her and bent her arm, this caused Rachel to faint with the pain. 

She was kept in overnight and turns out that nerves to her hand had been severed causing paralysis to her left hand - she was left handed. 

I kept in touch with the family, the father and I swapped books and jigsaws and I had been to their home prior to the accident. 

It was about a year after the accident when the dad came to see me tomsay he was going to sue for damages as Rachel was left with a claw hand. I understood this and we had insurance. 
The insurance company were furious with me over getting in touch with the family. The woman dealing with the case ripped into me. I just replied, "Would you be more likely to sue of your child had hurt itself and whoever was responsible for their care never asked how they were or, if they called to enquire?"

It dragged on for years. In the end I just said I was negligent in mounting her on a young pony when she wasn't up to riding it." 
Load of tosh but they paid immediately.


----------



## Foxhunter

In 2001 we had about 200 ewes of John's running with ours a d the rams, there was an outbreak of foot and mouth way up north then because sheep from that area had been shipped down south to Daevon it broke out there too. Next thing the government put a ban on moving any cloven footed beasts. I was landed with all these ewes to lamb. 

It was, to say the least hectic and very tiring. Fortunately the weather was kind and I could get them back out quickly. 

I had been wanting to visit the US that summer. 
At the time there was a web site called The Haynet which I had taken part with. I had made friends with a great group of people and one couple who bred TBs for the Hunter ring, had some beautiful pictures on their web site so, I invited myself to go stay with them in Idaho. When this was arranged other members of this group were upset that I wasn't going to the east coast so, I made my long overdue holiday longer and visited Virginia, then NC before flying to Idaho and then with another member, driving to CO. 

I had a young woman working with me but Boss wanted someone else. A woman turned up, I thought she was Irish but she wasn't, she had been working over there and had taken the Irish accent. 
She gave some phone numbers for references which the boss called and was given glowing reports so she got the position. She was to stay in my cottage whilst I was away. 

I told her to make herself at home there. 

I had arrived in Idaho having wilted in NC with the humidity and temperatures knowing at 4,500 feet it would be cooler. Ha ha. Temps were in the 100s with a strong breeze/wind at least it was a dry heat. 
Dot wakes me at 2 a.m. a phone call. It was Irish woman ranting and raving for nearly an hour. It was manic. She was complaining that Jessica had walked out and this, that and the other, what the heck could I do about it?

So, once my trip was over I had the flight from hell to get back to the UK, when I finally arrived at 5 a.m. I collected my car which was parked at my cousin's.

(_I will tell of my holiday later)_

I was quite refreshed having slept from Chicago to Heathrow. Had breakfast with my cousin and arrived back at around lunchtime. Boss came out of his office the moment I parked up and his first words to me were, "You are *never, ever* going to be allowed away on holiday again. Welcome home!" 

I was surprised as I drove in the see the horses stables and shod. She had decided to bring them back into work. 

First thing I noticed wa show she had rearranged things in my kitchen. Then, in the living room cushion covers were all dyed pink. The place smelt of hash, there was a hole in the sofa from her dog scratching it. Several mugs were missing from the hooks, these had been broken. 

She was going on and on about how she was _at last,_ going to have a day off tomorrow. I was then informed that Spud, a hunter livery, had peritonitis and was due his last injection. I said I would go and see the horses and give Spud his jab. She immediately told me that he was dangerous to inject. 
I wandered down to the yard, went in with Spud. I didn't even have a halter on him and went to jab him. He shot around the stable, head up, rolling his eyes. I stopped him and told him to stop being a wuss and to behave! I poked him in the chest with my finger and proceeded to inject hi,

She had come down and gone to fetch the twitch, by which time the job was done. She pointed out to me the lumps on Spud's belly saying they were sure signs of peritonitis I pointed out that it was just fat. Later Alistair agreed with me but she had insisted something was wrong so he had given her the injections to be able to escape from the place! 

For the rest of the day I heard nothing but complaints. She had brought her horse there, a cob born from a nurse mare in Eire. He was turned out with another of Madam's colts, Malcom, which was fine. 

She had the Friday off, and I just turned the horses out. I found that indoors all the beds had been slept in, no bed linen changed, though she had changed my bed. My freezer was practically empty and all the wine I had was gone plus bottles of vodka, gin and whisky. I rarely drink but like to keep,some in store for friends that do. 

By coincidence my phone bill arrived on the Friday. I opened it and found it to be well over £350, usually it was around £30. I always had it itemised and could see that Jessica, on her own the first couple of days, had spent the morning making calls. The rest were all from her. One, to a cell phone in Eire was for over two hours and cost over £60. This was higher than the call she made to me in the US. I showed the boss and itemised all the calls. 

When she returned I told her about the bill and she said it was down to me. 

We rode out, and just went around the village. At lunch time I was getting calls from the villagers all asking when I was leaving. She had said that Boss was going to get rid of me and employ her as she was so good. They wanted to know if it was true or not. I assumed from my greeting from the Boss it wasn't! 

Her answer to having eaten my freezer empty (this included a three tiered wedding cake I had made not iced) and drunk all my booze was that I had told her to make herself at home so she had. 

I told her to ****** off and to take her horse on the Sunday. 

She didn't like that! She called me Sunday morning and said she would be down lunchtime to take her horse. I said I would bring him in from the fields. I was told that if I so much as touched her horse she would sue me. I ignored this and brought both the horses in and out them in the bottom yard, the in work horses were turned out. 

Someone dropped her off and when she saw the horses in she went ape. The language was terrible. I ignored it all and when I could get a word in I told her what I thought of her. 

The Boss had left me a cheque for her minus the phone calls. It was all itemised but if she was mad before she was even madder when she saw it. She reckoned she deserved a large bonus and I should pay for her calls. 

Eventually she took her horse out the stable to lead him down to the village where she was going to keep him. I started to take the droppings out of the stable and as she went out the gate I remarked, "Goodbye to bad rubbish!" 

"What did you say?"
I repeated my remark. With that she let go of her horse and came flying at me. Imwasmstood in the doorway of the stable. I was already taller than her but on the step into the stable I was a good head and shoulders above her. Before I knew it she had grabbed my hair with both hands. 
I never moved, I just stared her in the face and said, in a very firm but quiet voice, "Let go of my hair Alex." 
She didn't but was hissing and spitting as she spoke. 
I just stood there. I looked at her and thought, "You stupid *****, I could easily kill you." This was true as both her hands were engaged and her whole body was open to attack.

She then let go of my hair with one hand which she drew back over her head to hit me. 

Very foolish! I grabbed her hand from behind her head and pulled down, this is a reverse arm lock and it HURTS. Still with a low but stron voice I told her "Let go of my arm Alex." 
She cussed and swore at me. I put more pressure on the arm and said, "If you don't let go of my hair I will not only break your arm I will also dislocate your shoulder." 
She screeched, "Go on, do it and I will sue you for all you have and then some!"
I added a fraction more pressure and staring her in the eyes I said, "Oh yes? You left here with your young unbroken horse, next thing I know is he comes trotting back into the yard. Not my fault he spooked and you tried to hang on and busted you arm up."
"That's a lie!"
"Sure would be but who is going to be believed moe or you? I have been here for years and caused no bother, you have been here a month and caused more than enough trouble in the pub, shop and even the feed store."

She let go of my hair, grabbed her horse and went on their way. 

She had a job with a local horse trainer (race) and reckoned she could ride anything. After a couple of weeks that put her on a strong horse that pulled like heck. She said it damaged her shoulders and tried to sue. It didn't work. 

She was a nasty piece of work. I couldn't understand how she had such good references. I asked the Boss for the numbers she had give him. One was an Irish dealer I knew from the past. 
I got his number from enquiries which was different to the one given. I called him and asked about Alex. His words were, "I wouldn't allow her within a fooking mile of my horses!" 

The numbers she had given were all to friends of hers who gave her a glowing report.


----------



## Foxhunter

The Boss was a name at Lloyds, the big insurance company that insurance companies from all over the world pay into. 

To be a name you have to be able to pay out £250,000 if necessary. I knew about Lloyds but didn't understand how it worked. The Boss explained it to me in simple terms. 

_Someone has a large yacht they want insured for £10 million. The price of the insurance is £20,000 p.a. That money is paid via an insurance company to Lloyds, who then have names take a share. If the yacht doesn't sink that money is divided out between the names who, have not had to pay anything out. 
If the yacht were to sink the names would have to cough up the money tomcaver the loss.

Lloyds cover many things including property. _

Boss told me he had done very well from Lloyds over the years but, when hurricanes hit Florida and 9/11 he had to pay out. 

At the same time Nick decided to sell the Old Rectory and Boss decided we would downsize and move next door. 

There was a lot of work to be done on the house and the flat above the garage wasn't suitable for me. The kitchen was tiny, a tall cupboard, a sink with a small drainer, a cupboard underneath the sink, a cooker a d a small fridge with a cupboard on the wall. Also, you had to go up outside steps to get to the door which led straight into the lounge. Nowhere to hang wet clothes or room to fit a washing machine. 

So, the flat was over three garages and one of these was taken to make a kitchen with a large utility room built on the side. So I went from three bedrooms to one. 

There was a barn already erected with four stables and a work area that Nick had used for his trialling herbal medicines. Boss got planning permission for a new barn to be built. 

We had several firms come to give ideas, all of them were telling us what we needed, one man arrived and immediately asked what we wanted. I told him and he set about with some design plans. Heavy machinery came in to level out the area, a drive was put in from the road to the barn and up to my place. 

I had four 15' x 12' stables, an aisle and the other side a loose barn 60' x 40' that could be divided in two with big solid gates. 
The other end was for storage and feed. 
The work area in the little barn was made into a nice big tackroom. 

The new barn had big windows on the outside of each stable with wooden doors that could be closed if the weather was bad. There were clear plastic roof inserts so there's was plenty of light. 

It was easy to work in and light and airy. Entrances at either end. 

Another move!


----------



## Foxhunter

One I have just remembered! 

Kip, the lurcher, I had rescued was a great guard dog. He lived indoors and if he needed to go out at night he would whinge at the door. Of I was working away from the gates he would always bark to let me know someone was there. He had different barks, one for people he knew and another for strangers. 

One night I was asleep and he started to bark from the back bedroom. Half asleep I told him to shut up and then realised it was his stranger bark. 
I jumped out of bed and ran down to let him out. As he ran towards the bottom yard do the tackroom alarm went off. I didn't stop to put on any clothes, only to jump into a pair of shoes and grabbing a two prong pitchfork leaning against the wall, ran after the dog. 

I got to the bottom yard to see two figures running down the road with the dog - and me - after them! Now me, stark naked would be enough to scare any burglar away! I ran to the house drive and returned to look at what they had done to the tackroom door. They had jemmied it open breaking the key lock and the two inside bolts. 
The police took three hours to arrive. Took some notes and that was it. 

Oh, I was dressed by the time they arrived! 

I saw Bomber later that day and told him about it. He said to leave it to him and we weren't bothered again.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Going back*

When John bought the Shires and I started showing them, I was bringing the two in from the village field. As I have said previously the road was a mile away, all straight until reaching the S bend where the buildings were. 

I was leading the pair along, they were only 2 and 3 years old at the time. As I had just gone round the first corner I heard a car racing down the road towards us. I ran to give him more distance to see us but he was a boy racer in a throaty car. 
When he saw the horses he hit the brakes and skidded and stalled. He was across the road. I just continued walking. When he got the car straight he roared up behind revving the engine. I blocked the road by having the horses spread across it. 

I was given a great deal of verbal abuse which I ignored. When I reached the gate instead of going across the road letting him go on his way, I halted the two and said "Whoa back" touching their chests with my finger. Both walked backwards beautifully. The driver had to find reverse. I did this a couple of times. A friend of the Boss came along in the other direction and slowed down. I stopped and chatted to her totally ignoring the other driver. I explained what had happened and she was quite happy to stop and chat. 

It was about five minutes before another car came along so I went in the gate and let them go on their way. 

..................

Another incident that happened with traffic in that busy area was when I was riding Bold Impression out early on his own. He could still get rattled by heavy vehicles and over fast cars on coming, he would go over to the side as far as he could, this might be into a ditch or hedge but he had stopped being anywhere near as bad as he had been. 

It was about 6.30 a.m. and I was walking back therough the village. The road was, for a rural area, wide, and on my side of the road was about twenty feet of grass, kept beautifully mown by the householders. 
I was walking on a long rein when a car was coming towards me. He was going faster than the speed limit and I waved him down. He accelerated, swerved across the road and headed straight at me. 
Bold Impression leapt onto the beautiful lawn and cut it up. The car driver was laughing as he drove off. 

This happened two mornings on the trot. 

Third morning I took Frenchie out. I had a stone about the size of a tennis ball in my pocket. Car comes along as he swerves at me I throw stone. Not being the best of shots and Frenchie also moving onto the grass, I missed he windshiel, stone landed on the bonnet, bounced and then shattered the windscreen so, perhaps it was a better shot after all! 

All hell broke loose. Profanities were rife from the driver. Bob, who loved in one of the houses had been getting up and had seen what had happened two of the three days. He called the local cop who was there in less than fifteen minutes. 

As I said, when accused of throwing the rock, not my fault the horse spooked at him driving at me, picked up a stone on the grass and as he moved tossed it onto the car. 

Pete, the cop knew this wasn't true - there were no stones on that area of grass but he never pointed that out. 

The driver got booked and fined for reckless driving. I never saw him again. 

..............

Jan was riding a 2 yr old I had just booked for a friend of the Boss, I was on Fergie. We were nearly home going down the road through the woods. 
When riding youngsters out in that area I would wear 'L' plates. This signified a learner and, a lot of people slowed down to utter rude remarks. I didn't care as they had slowed! 

A car was coming towards us fast followed by another. I pulled out into the middle of the road and waved him down. The second car slowed but not the first. I was ready for him and as he went by I whacked the roof with my dressage whip. 
Unfortunately my whip got caught and was pulled from my hand. 
The driver got out the car and picked up the whip and hit Frenchie three times with it leaving welts. I called the police over this but they didn't do anything. 

The man lived in a side road in the village. I only found this out when I was delivery milk for Chris and John. I also found out that his pride and joy was a classic vintage car. 

Months later Boss told me someone had poured battery acid all over the car. Such a shame. 

..............

_I was reminded of these incidents when I witnessed two riders being harassed by a car that couldn't get past them this morning. _


----------



## Knave

I don’t like those stories!! People can be just awful.


----------



## Foxhunter

It is all part of life! 

I am up there in years, things have changed so much in life since I was a child and unfortunately not necessarily for the better. 

There are more and more entitled people out there thinking that because they were born the world owes them a living. 

I do not dwell on things but neither do I forget. As the saying goes, 'Revenge is best served cold!'

Here, riding on roads is something majority of riders have to do. Horses and livestock have the right of way over motorised vehicles though majority of drivers forget this, (if they ever knew it!) 

When we moved the lane past us was single track, there were pull in places for two vehicle shots to pass. Locals would see a car coming towards them and pull in of eh were near one of these spots, others just kept driving until someone had to reverse. 

Best part was we would have many farm tractors with trailers going up and down the road. If a local got stuck behind them they would, when the road allowed, pull out a bit so the driver could see they were there. Tractor driver had, in about 2 miles, two places to pull over, which they would do. You overtook them and waved or tooted to say thanks. 
Incomers would blare their horn and would be stuck behind that tractor for about five miles! 

There were two farms in the nearest village and both were sold and houses built on the land. Theses were family homes cramped together with a tiny garden. A lot were sold as second homes. 
These townies would complain about anything and everything, the church clock chiming every hour, church bells on a Sunday and Thursday when they practised. Mr and Mrs Greenaway's chickens with the rooster crowing early and during the day. The cows in the field smelt bad and caused flies. 
Thet would arrive from London on a Friday, laden with food from supermarkets and never uses the village shop and expect locals to be village bumpkins and agree with them over the noise pollution, as they called it. 

Ignorant fools and I had great pleasure in telling them so!


----------



## Knave

Lol. We don’t really have that here. Honestly people are pretty good if you are out with cows pushed down the road or riding on the side, but I don’t do a lot of that anyways. I don’t think I’ve heard many stories of people behaving like that either, but maybe it is because everyone knows everyone and everyone would know... Sometimes the semis will drive by fast, but not out of meanness that I have seen, just lack of knowledge.

When I read stories like that I don’t know what I’d do. I always like what you do.  I don’t know that I’d have the balls.

I did hear a story about some people I know. I guess they got into an argument and a guy drove his four wheeler up almost into a horse. (Rumor, because I didn’t hear the case or know the actual facts, and only heard one side.) Anyways, he took a good beating for it from my understanding.


----------



## knightrider

Like @Foxhunter, I've been around and riding for a long time. My main beef is the "No Trespassing" signs. When I was young, we could ride anywhere. There were lots of farms around and they usually had trails going alongside and behind their properties. 

Farmers on their tractors would wave happily as I rode alongside their field on a little path.

But when the city slickers buy the farms and turn them into houses or farmettes, suddenly the "No Trespassing" signs go up. People come out of their houses and scold at me, "You are trespassing. This is our land."

Once I was foolish enough to say, "But I've always ridden here," and the rude answer, "Well, you're not going to any more."


----------



## Foxhunter

Majority of drivers are good, especially in rural areas. As I said earlier, when we moved we blocked the roads whilst unloading the horses, no one cared. They either did a 11 point turn and went another way, waited or helped. 

That is rural living! 

What is very different between our two countries is size. The amount of traffic on our roads slows everything down. Not that people are driving more slowly but if there is an accident, and there are many, everything stops. 

We had a lot of cyclists on the narrow roads and they wouldmoften startle the horses when they came from behind. I stopped,one male cyclist one day and explained that the horses didn't realise they were there and, when startled they might kick out. I asked him to call out when thirty plus yards behind tomsay "Cyclist!" 

He put up a notice in two cycle clubs and after that they all started calling out. Costs nothing to educate.


----------



## Foxhunter

A friend of mine had bred a filly from her mare. When I went home I went to see her and was proudly shown the foal. Very nice she was too! 

Rose fed them whilst I was there and I was surprised to see how this 3 month foal was chasing the dam away from both feeders. Thismwas relentless until the mare just went and stood away from the well spaced feeders. 

I warned Rose that this had to be stopped and she needed to go out there with a lunge whip and keep the foal away from the mare and teach her manners. She didn't do this but would separate then come feed time. 

A couple of years passed and I was asked if I could have the filly (now 2) as she was proving very problematic. 

Filly, now about 16 hands, was rude, barley and a total bully to other horses. Only one place to turn her out and that was with the brood mares and foals. 

Out she went with them. Thinking she could boss then she went in hammer and tongs. Three of the five mares immediately retaliated and went in with teeth and barging with their bodies. The other two stood back with all foals around them. 

Three days went by and I do admit to feeling sorry for the filly as she was still being ostracised and not allowed near the herd. If one of the foals ventured near her she ran away knowing a mare would follow the foal. 

One afternoon when it was hot shepherd John came to move sheep up into that field. Some sheep ran up the steep bank off the road side and John had clambered up to get them down. In doing so he picked up a fallen branch to use as a third leg. 

He only had one dog that day. The sheep spread out as soon as they got into the field and the dog was wanting to round them up again. John called him off with "That'll do!" and as dog came trotting back towards John so filly went after poor old Ben. 
Ben ran and hid behind John and filly had no intention of John being shelter for the dog and continued after Ben. 
Luckily John was horse savvy and hit the filly hard across her nose with the stick. That did make her turn. 

A few days later Rose came to stay and watch me work filly. I had her in the arena and she did everything she could to evade whatever I was asking her. This was not an 'I don't know' but 'I'm bloody well not going to do it!'

I was hot and dusty from the arena surface, what should have been twenty to thirty minutes turned into over an hour but, I did get compliance. She stopped coming at me and in the end was trying. Good enough. 

We went back down to the stables and I fetched a couple of buckets of hot water to wash her off. Rose's daughter was also staying, they started to washed filly down whilst I fetched something else. When I returned they were washing filly and Roses commented, "she's being so good!"
I pointed out that she wasn't as the water buckets were at the other end of the yard and they had moved until she could go no further. I made them bring her back and held her whilst Rose washed. I watched filly' knees and the moment she took the weight on one leg and unlocked her other knee I rattled her halter. 
She stood for several minutes and finally after a correction looked at me as if to say, "How do you know I was thinking of moving? Are you a mind reader?"

She went home with more manners than when she arrived and Rose had a good education on handling her too. 

Another year passed and o went to a horse show at home. I might have been judging, I can't recall. 

Rose's daughter came over to say that filly was refusing to load, could I please help? I told her I'd be there in a while. 

About five minutes later I wandered over. Filly was grazing parallel to the side of the ramp. I called out "Rose!" as she wasn't in sight. Filly lifted her head, looked at me, walked forward to the foot of the ramp and bounded into the horsebox. 

She remembered me!


----------



## Foxhunter

*Going back*

There were a retired couple who lived a few miles away from the riding school. Their place was one storey thatched cottage which had once been two farm workers cottages now converted into one. I didn't know these people at all, they hadn't long moved there and had a lot of work to do on the garden and, no doubt the house. 

I was walking with a nervous girl riding past their place and both were outside trimming a hedge. I spoke to them and they replied. On the way back past them the woman stopped and asked me why all riders stared into their kitchen window. I laughed and said they weren't looking into the kitchen but looking at their reflection in the window to see how they were sitting. 

I was riding past their place quite a lot (and staring in their window) and we became quite chatty. I did go down a couple of times and help them clear some of the heavier materials in the garden and in the truck, take a load of rubbish to the tip. 

They had a good three acres of land and asked where they could buy a donkey so that it could help eat the grass down. So, we went to the New Forest sales and bought a Jenny donkey. She was small and obviously pregnant. First thing I did was to worm her. She wasn't handled at all burnsoon realised she was in a good place and was very attached to the couple. 

We hadn't a clue when she would foal. She just got bigger and bigger. She went into labour one night and they called me. I went straight there, it was gone midnight and it didn't take me long to realise we had problems. 
I was t experienced with foaling, those I had been at were all straight forward. 

Unfortunately she died leaving us with a new born jack foal. We managed to get some milk from her and got that into him. By this time of was getting light, I went straight to work and managed to get some milk powder to feed Diddleye as he had been named. 

The couple weren't confident about feeding him so I took him home with me. Mum was great and didn't really Ming having a donkey in the kitchen - it's only for a week or two until he can go all night without a feed, I told her. 

Diddleye grew up thinking he was a dog. He came to the riding school every day and had free range mostly because we couldn't keep him in any field, he would lie down by the fence and wriggle his way under the wire. He loved people and spent a lot of his time in the tackroom or playing with the children. 

He was brilliant with the disabled children and would entertain them when they were waiting for their time to ride. When the bus went to leave he would lie down in front of it so they couldn't go. 

He was a heck of a character!


----------



## Foxhunter

*1976*

Mmshiro reminded me of this one! 

A woman and her husband moved to the Island. They bought an old farm house and had it extended and modernised. 

I met Nicky out Hunting. She had a grey cob that had come over from Ireland. He wasn't in very good condition when she bought him and problems arose as he gained condition and strength. 

Murphy was like a body builder! He was solid and could be exceedingly annoying when he decided he wasn't going to do something he didn't want. He could have carried someone four times Nicky's weight. I was the one she would call when there were problems and, knowing Murphy, I would act like a total novice so he would think he could take advantage and then when he tried, sort him out. This fooled him several times but in the end he wasn't fooled and butter wouldn't melt in his mouth! 

In 76 the U.K. was in a drought. We hadn't had any rain from mid May. Nicky called me and said she had a sidesaddle that she wanted to try riding Murphy with but she didn't want to be the first one on him. I went over and we tacked him up. 

Being mid summer Murphy was fat, not that he was ever thin, but he gained weight looking at grass and wasn't getting a lot of exercise. 

Nicky didn't have a flat field so we decided to ride in a farner's field behind the house. This was down to growing potatoes. I mounted Murph and we were walking up the hill between the rows of spuds. We just got to the top where the potatoes had been harvested when enautomatic sprinklers came on. 
Murphy did one of his gazzumps sideways and leaping sideways went down the hill with the sprinklers followed us encouraging he sideways leaps even more. 

I suddenly realised that the ground was getting nearer and ended up amid the spuds. Murphy came over me and ran on back to the house. I wasn't hurt, wet and muddy yes, but not harmed at all. 
The saddle was on his side. 

I disproved the fact that it is impossible to fall off riding side saddle. 

...............

I had quite a lot to do with Murphy. I would House sit if anicky and Charles went on holiday or, he would come to me. One time he was with me Sally wanted to rode as did Gillian. Although we had ridden at the same stables as children I don't think there was ever a time when we rode alone together. 
Sally wanted to ride Cass, a young hunter I had with me, Gill was on George and me on Murphy. 

We went out on a good long ride. There were a lot of gates to do and I did most of them, Murphy being good at gates and lower to the ground. 

There was one gate I had to dismount to open, hinges broken so it needed lifting and dragging. As I was mounting Sally and Gill took off at a canter leaving me halfway across Murphy's saddle. (I was vaulting on as his saddle would slip if I did it from the stirrup) I managed to get a leg either side and catch up to them but it gave them a good laugh and me bruised ribs! 

The path from the top of this particular hill was steep, narrow and had trees with low branches hanging over it. Sally and Gill had to keep leaning forward, I being a lot lower, was OK. 
I waited until I was under the lowest part and took off at a canter. There were shrieks and cusses from the pair behind me who were following hard behind me. 

Revenge is sweet.


----------



## Foxhunter

Moving was hectic even though it was only to next door!

We had been trailing various forms of rubber matting. The best of this was what was called 'Cow Mattress ' 
Around the walls of each stable 2"x 2" was fixed to the floor and then another of the same fixed to that. The centre was filled with chopped rubber and a membrane fixed over the rubber. It was like walking on a water bed. 

It worked well but, the membrane was the problem. To wide a mesh and it got ripped with a shoe catching in it and wearing at the door. It took a while before we found the right one, didn't matter as we weren't paying for it! 

Having got this correct, I wasn't wanting to leave it all behind. So, I ripped up the membrane and bagged all the rubber granules. I was really expecting this to stink from the ammonia but it didn't at all. 

This was put down in the new stables. It took me days to get it all moved but in he end we did. 

Building was going on in the main house and my place. Again the Boss had allowed me to have my say , unfortunately he was using the same architect who I had found useless with the previous conversion. 
The garage was to be my kitchen with a large utility room build on the side. In there was to be a toilet. The architect had this so big it was ridiculous. All that was needed was a loo and a wash basin, didn't need to be able to have a party in there! The builders brought it down in size by about half. 

I needed units for the kitchen and again the architect had the kitchen plan all wrong. He had the sink under the window which I didn't want. It is the traditional place for a sink coming from the days when a woman did all the laundry by hand and needed the light. Nowadays little time is spent at the sink so I wanted it on the side wall. 

I was given a couple of brochures for the units - all expensive and white! Great when you have dogs come indoors and shake mud everywhere. I was told these were cheaper as they could get them trade. 

I went to a company to look at the units they had and found one with plain doors in a maroon/red colour which I liked. The doors were plain so easy to wipe down and a sensible colour for me. Unfortunately this was now a discontinued line. The shop I went to had a couple of units. I called Sally and asked her to look at the store on the Island. She called me back to say that they had the show kitchen for sale but it had to be gone by the weekend. This was a Thursday. Boss was away. 

I took the horsebox and set sail. Bought the show kitchen which included the cooker and hob, kettle, brad bin and various odds and ends used in the display. I bartered and paid £900 for it all. The units were loaded set up and I was able to store them in an empty stable. Of course I had no idea whether they would all fit in or not but, apart from a corner wall unit they did and that unit fitted on a wall with a small cupboard with a door and the other, larger, I fitted more shelves in and used as a book case. 

Boss on his returne reimbursed me and was pleased at my penny pinching.

The guys building the barn and those doing the ground work were great. If they weren't sure about something they asked me what I thought and they kept working. The builders in the hose were fine but as they had a tight time line they hired a couple of painters to do my house. I was constantly finding them sitting around or, doing work on some furniture they were restoring for themselves. Their excuse was that they didn't have any paint. 
Mrs Boss was forever changing her mind over the colours she wanted so there was plenty of paint available. I wasn't fussed about colour! 

When we moved it still wasn't t ready. The utility wasn't finished but I had my kitchen and a place to lay my head. 

At least this time there wasn't the hassle of having to move all the horses as we had retained a couple of the fields so as far as they were concerned it was much the same. 

I swore to the Boss that if he decided to move again I was to be sold as part of the fixtures and fittings!


----------



## Foxhunter

Boss had bought an Irish Draft as his hunter, Skipper. He was a big grey horse only coming five. All,went well and Skp settled in well. We had a single discussion when he charged me for his feed, I gave it to him by bashing him with the bucket. He never did it again. 

The day after the last Meet of Skip's first season I rode him out to give him a leg stretch. I was only walking until I met a car in a. Dry narrow part of the lane, I trotted to get to a pull in to find Skip,was very lame behind. 

I couldn't find anywhere that made him say "OW!" And henwasnworse after the second day. Henwas perfectly sound at the walk and on tight turns but wouldmcanter rather than trot when run up in hand. Absolutely no sign of injury at all. 

Sarah, my chiro for the horses came and even with her Faraday machine we couldn't find a sore spot. I kept Skip in one of the loose barns and then he went out to grass for the summer. Never did find where he was sore. We suspected something high up in his groin. 

He was a lovely easy horse to look after and a real gentleman. 

Helen, who had worked with me, would come down to ride and I would care for her son, James. We did this from when he was a baby. James like dto help, and would, from the age ofmabout three want to take a horse to the field. Skipmwas the horse to look after the child. I watched ajames lead Skip out and he walked to the track. I told him to wait so he turned around and started to walk back, bless Skip, he kept the full rope length back from the lad and once in the field would put his nose to the ground so James could remove his halter. 

I love horses that are like that.


----------



## Foxhunter

I was about to go out on second exercise with Sharon. We had just had breakfast and as I left the house the phone buzzed from the house. Boss was away. It was Mrs Boss telling me she had fallen and thought she had broken her hip. 

I rushed down to the house to find her on the floor in the sitting room obviously in a great deal of pain. It had taken her an hour to crawl from the cloakroom where she had fallen, into the nearest phone. 

She was bursting to have a pee, which was why she had gone to the cloakroom in the first place. Lifting her was to painful so I went to the kitchen and got a big meat tray, managed to get her panties down sat her on that so she could go. 
She was so embarrassed I felt for her. She kept apologising over and over. I pointed out to her that a lot of my day was dealing with pee and pop so no worries. 

She had called for an ambulance. A friend was coming to collect her to go for lunch. I went upstairs and packed a case for her, nightgown dressing gown, wash things, tooth brush, all her medications which were in her pill box and her make up bag. 
Her friend arrived, a woman I wasn't over enamoured with, and she immediately started flapping. She said she would go and pack a bag. I said it was all done. She immediatleynwanted to know what was in it as I was bound to have forgotten something. I hadn't which was very satisfying. 

Ambulance arrived and took her off to hospital. Boss was up country and I wasn't able to get hold of him until the afternoon. He immediately set off for home.

Her hip was broken and they put in an artificial one. She was soon up and about. 

Boss told me later that she had been surprised at how organised and calm I was about it all. He told her that he would only have been surprised if I had panicked!


----------



## Foxhunter

We eventually settled in next door. 

Despite the cottage I was in being smaller, I loved the place. It was much lighter in that the cottage next door was surrounded by trees and barns locking out the light. 

I was missing an arena but that didn't matter to much. 

The stable buildings were what I wanted. I had a lovely big tackroom with rug storage, big roomy stables and everything to hand. 

The main house had been altered quite a lot, the courtyard at the back had been enclosed with a conservatory and that had npbeen made into a breakfast room. The Boss had his office looking into my cottage area which was separated from the main area by a big wall. 

Boss was away and somehow Mrs Boss rubbed me the wrong way and instead of just letting it go over me I turned and gave as good as I received. 

When Boss returned he asked me to go into his office and told me that Mrs Boss had reported I had been rude to her and I needed to apologise. I knew she was listening from the breakfast room! 

I refused to say sorry unless she apologised to me first. I explained my side of the story and he, knowing what she could be like, let it slide. Later, I did get a token apology from her and did the same back. All was fine again. 

We had been there just over a year when Mrs Boss was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She put up a good fight but it was a loosing battle. 

They decided to have a Sunday Lunch for friends in September a marquee was hired and set up on the lawn. The weather was glorious, leaves were starting to turn and the garden looked good. 

Mrs Boss's sister came to help.

Boss and I went out for a ride. We were out longer than we intended and when we got back he rushed up to the house for lunch. I did the horses over and turned them out. 

I was in my place upstairs in the living room when I heard Mrs Boss call me.,I looked out and she was in my courtyard asking if I could help as Cilla had fainted, 

I went in to find Cilla on the floor, she was twitching and I immediately thought she was having an epileptic fit. On asking I was told she had fitted. 

I placed a chair cushion under her head. Boss came back on asking if I would help get her in the car. Told him that he needed to call an ambulance. If she fitted again in the car he would be in trouble. 

He called and the ambulance was there in about twenty minutes, surprising as we were some way from the nearest hospital. 

Whilst waiting Cillas came round, she sat up and held her head in her hands saying , "My head, my f ing head." (She never swore) then blacked out. 
The medics arrived and I left them to it. They raced her off to hospital where it was found she had suffered an massive brain aneurism and was basically brain dead. 

They went ahead with the luncheon the next day making excuses as to why Cilla wasn't there. 

Next day the machines were turned off and Cilla passed. 

Mrs Boss died a couple of months later. 

Not a good time at all.


----------



## knightrider

Appreciate the history, but what a sad time.


----------



## Foxhunter

I received a call one evening asking if I could have a mare at livery, she was a turn out, not ridden so there should,be no problem. 

She arrived the next morning. The guy who delivered her warned me that she was plain nasty and had been to several different places only to be returned in a couple of days labelled as mean and dangerous. 

She was a good looking dark bay warmblood, big and strong. I cannot say I had any bad vibes from her but forewarned is forearmed. I was turning her out with two brood mares in the field at the top of the drive. I did put a chain across her nose just in case but although she was strong to lead she didn't do anything terrible. 

I let her loose with the other two and away they went, plenty of squealing and striking with front feet but nothing to be worried about. 

That afternoon I went to feed them all. I had feed and hay in the back of the ATV. I drove up the drive to the gate. Now, my habit was to open the gate, drive in and leave the gate open knowing the mares would follow the ATV. Just in case I closed the gate onto the road. 

I walked back to the bike and the new mare who had been standing back, charged the gate, ears flat back, mouth open and punching her front legs. If she had managed to get a hold of me I felt she would have dragged me into the field and done her worse. 

I barely paused. I didn't wave my arms or shout at her, I just got on the bike, turned and went back to the barn. I picked up my twitch which, very rarely ever used, was hanging on the side. This twitch was anpbout two thirds of a pitchfork handle and solid. 
I drove back to the gate and waited, sure enough Nastasia repeated her attack. My two mares were standing to the side. I swear they knew that the mare was going to be chastised! 

As she chested the gate so I brought the twitch handle down the front of her face. I used two hands and didn't pull any punches. The noise resounded but Nastasia turned and galloped away stopping under the apple trees shaking her head, yawning and obviously surprised. 
I drove in and across tomwhere I usually fed, put out the hay and the extra bin. I stood watching and she came up to the feeder. I walked towards her and she shot away. 

I grinned to myself thinking that I would rather have her run away than attack me. 

Next day I wanted to bring them in. I needed to have this mare understand that she was at my place and my rules go. I caught the other two but she kept well away. The lesson had been well learned. I walked the two mares into the loose pen letting Nastasia follow loose. I let them loose and then put each mare in a stable. I still couldn't catch Nastasia so let her into the aisle and into an open stable. Caught in there with no problem though she was a bit wary of me. 

I fiddled about with her and thought she was misaligned diagonally. When I went to pick up a hind foot she lashed out hard, I immediately slapped her on her belly and shoved into her. Tried again and she was fine if I didn't try and lift it to high. 

By that evening I had taken three calls,from different people telling me Nastasia was a killer, she kicked and bit and would savage you if she could. That she needed a lump of lead - the only cure for her. 

Later I led all three mares up the drive to the field and turned them out. When I went up to feed Nastasia stood back behind my two mares and joined them in the race to the feeders. When I placed her feed in the bucket she stood back. I invited her in and she kept eating when I scratched her neck. 

I had no worries when I turned my back on her and walked away.


----------



## Foxhunter

From the calls I received from various people warning me about the mare, I gleaned that she had been imported from Germany and a lot of money had been paid for her. 
The owner had done well with her competing dressage and had taken lessons from top trainers before moving to our area. The mare had gone sour and downhill from there on in. 

The woman had been in a car wreck. Her husband was the one who sent her to me. I called him to gain more information about her. He told me that he was prepared to shoot the bloody animal as she was vicious and had hurt several people. Was impossible to handle and so on. 

I asked him if I could rode her and he said yes but, she hadn't been ridden in well over a year and if you got on her she would just rear. He would not take responsibility for any injury to me. 

I gave Nastasia a good going over and found her to be misaligned. I sorted that out until my chiropractor could do the fine tuning. Her feet were a mess, imasked the farrier to trim her when he was down. She did start to mess but I warned her with my voice and she settled. I went off to make tea and bacon sarnies for everyone and she was trimmed when I returned. No problems.

Andy, the farrier asked me what the heck I had done to the mare as he had twice refused to trim her (when she was in different yards) as she was so bloody minded and handlers wouldn't let him correct her. 

I told him and he laughed. He said that he knew we had come to an agreement when I corrected her with my voice and she straightened up immediately. 

Later I lunged her tacked up in the field. She was fine but very sour so I kept it very short. 

The day after I had a friend come down whilst I rode her. She was fine, moved away from the mounting block, walked past the barn and up the drive a short way. The moment I turned into the Field she started to rear. At first she was only going half way up and then she went higher. I just sat on her. I had quit my stirrups incase I had to bail of she started to go over. 

Basically I just sat there, she was doing all the work, I wasn't frightened and until she offered to go over, I wasn't going to get off. In the end she stopped. I could hear the cogs in her brain whirling around. She stomped her back foot down hard several times. 

I lit a cigarette, she ground her teeth and stomped some more. 

I sat and smoked. 

In the end she wanted to walk forward. 

I sat and smoked and then when I wanted, I asked her to walk on and she was happy to comply. 

Oh boy! What movement, she was fantastic to sit on and I was getting some great actions from her. She was obedient but not really happy about it all. 

I didn't ride her long as she was tired from the rearing and the work. I said I would walk her around the triangle, to cool her down. She came out the field an up the drive without hesitation. On the lane she was spooking and looking at everything, she was greener than any of the babies first time out. She wasn't being naughty she was genuinely worried about traffic signs, drains, gateways and when she saw a field of sheep, I could hear her heart thumping! 

We survived the adventure. I rode her out around the block each day and Andy came the following week and shod her all round. From that point on she was in work, I either rode her or led her out and about. Leading her gave her confidence and soon I was riding her and leading one of the others from her. The spooking got less and less, she loved going somewhere new and gradually all tension left her. Her ears were forward, she wasn't sour anymore. 

I wondered why and it turns out she had been ridden only in an arena for several years. Dressage, dressage and more dressage. 

One day I rode her to a local woman who did dressage to a high level. I didn't like her much, sure she was a great rider but had no understanding of the horses nature. When she saw me ride up the drive on Nastasia she did a double take. The mare had been to her and she had sent it home as being to nasty to ride. I rode her into the arena and immediately she was sour. Better than she had been but not happy. There was a jump set up and just for fun I pointed her at it, I was nearly jumped off she leapt so big. I did it a couple of times and by the third time she was still clearing it well but not over jumping. 

We set up a grid and she loved it. I had done it three times and the last time she landed and put in such a buck and a fart just to say how she was loving it. 

It was about three months before e owner came to see her. I had told her to come down anytime after midday as I would be out riding. She turned up early so I wasn't there. When we got back I was an her mare and she couldn't believe that I was able to lead another horse from her. 

Helen brought her on the ATV out tomthe fields where I proceeded to jump the Hunt fences set in the hedges. I hadn't done these before but had no qualms about her ability to do them and she didn't let me down. 

However, the mare didn't like her owner and the owner was not enamoured with her either so, I made arrangements for her to go to a friend, compete and be sold. She was soon in the money show jumping and sold easily for a good price. 

Happy ending for all.


----------



## Foxhunter

I hadn't ridden Madam in some years, she'd had bred some lovely foals which I sold on. She was a phenomenal character and a bit perplexing when it came to herd hierarchy. She was never a greedy mare. I would use the ATV to feed in the fields. I would have all the feeders in a big circle and drive round dumping food into each one. 
Madam would stand back and wait until the last bin was filled and start to eat. Nothing would even attempt to drive her away which, had she been omega they would have done. 

I always ran her with the mares and foals, the foals would all eat from her feeder whilst she would take the odd nibble yet none of the mares would go near, 

In the years I owned her I only ever saw her once Boss another horse. I don't know what Molly - a very bossy mare, had done but come feed time Madam just kept Molly moving so she couldn't stop to eat. There was no kicking or biting, Madam just walked stoically after her and Molly kept moving away. 

She had her quirks and many of them which is why she became Madam. If someone was riding her and they didn't have the lightest contact, she would just plant and refuse to move an inch. If they got annoyed and rough, she would just, from a stand still, do an enormous buck and send them flying.

She was great with the youngsters in keeping them in line. 

I took her away to a stud and the owner asked me if she was a bossy mare or not. I said truthfully she wasn't. They would put the bossy mares together so they only squabbled amongst themselves rather than upsetting every horse on the place. 

I was confident about her ability to be Boss without causing trouble so we turned her out with the bossy ones. 

On entering thengate they all, about ten of them, came over crowding to get to the new entry. Madam just walked rough them, she didn't stop to sniff and squeal, she just walked into the middle of the field and started to eat. The others were totally perplexed by this and an hour later they were all grazing around her peacefully. 
The stud owner told me that she had never seen herd dynamics change like they had. When amadam was taken out that field the others started to fight each other. 

I had a feeling that something was wrong with her, I couldn't say what but there was something not quite right. Alistair looked at her and couldn't find anything amis. She was eating fine, looked well and wasn't stiff or sorry for herself. 

I had been round and checked everything. I decided to take the dogs for a walk and on returning through the horses, Madam was lying down away from the herd and colicking. 
I brought her in and never called the vet but Michael from the Hunt. I just knew that she wanted to go so, she was put down about an hour after I found her. 

I went to the Hunt the next morning to see if I could find what caused the colic. She had a tumour which was blocking her hind gut so, I didmthe right thing.


----------



## Foxhunter

I was taking about ten lambs to the slaughter house one Sunday. This abattoir was exactly ten miles from the property BUT if you went the main road way it was nearly twice as long. I always went the short route up a single track lane known as Boys Hill. The only problem with this was it flooded in heavy rain. 

We had had some heavy rain over a couple of nights so I was prepared to go the long way round. I was driving the Bosses 4 x 4 Mercedes and towing a pony trailer. 

I had my sister's three children with me. Lambs loaded we went on our merry way. The village we had to drive through was also prone to flooding where the road bridge went over the river, nothing much max I ever saw was about a foot in depth . This day it hadn't flooded there so I thought I'd go my normal way.

Idiot! 

The first part of Boys Hill is a straight single track lane with wide grass verges either side. This was fine, it was after I rounded the corner the flood started. It wasn't to bad so I kept going only to find it got deeper and deeper. I couldn't stop and reverse out because the trailer had a switch to flip over for reversing or the brakes came on and I didn't dare stop for fear of the engine stalling. 

Give that vehicle its due it kept going even though the water was up to the head lights. Now, these 4 x 4 manufacturers show vehicles driving through Dee p water with no problem - what they don't say is that the seals on the doors don't keep the water out! The children were sitting with their feet on the seats and my feet were under water, 

I gave a massive sigh of relief when we reached the rising ground. We drove on, I knew there was another place that flooded and the sign on the side showed the water to be just under 4 feet. 

I dropped the gear into low four wheel drive, put my foot down keeping the speed enough to create a big bow wave. I was in the deepest part when some old man came towards me and stopped at the edge of the water, I blared my horn and flashed the lights. Another van come behind him, took one look at the water and reversed back. 

The old man did reverse back enough to allow me wot get alongside him. He rolled down his window and asked, "Am I going to get through that?" 
"No way!" 
We opened the doors and the inside water gushed out. The only thing missing were fishes! As I drove on a little voice from the back said, "Aunty?"
"Yes Eliesha"
"Do we have to go the same way home?"
"Absolutely not, " I replied. 

Those poor lambs must have been swimming in the back, certainly the cleanest lambs I have ever taken to slaughter! 

I told the Boss what had happened and how his Mrec was soaking wet inside. He just laughed and told me he had flooded it a couple of,weeks before. 

I put it on the slope outside my cottage, lifted the carpets and removed the front seal plugs in the floor held the carpets up,with food tins and left a blow heater running in there. Dried out quite quickly.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Before we moved*

Sharon and I had been out hunting, when we got back and had bathed the horses, it was getting dark. I left Sharon to do the stables horses whilst I went across the road to the hill field to bring in the five youngsters and then the brood mares. 

The field was divided in two. The track leading up was angled up the side of the hill and came onto the road a few yards above the big gates. 
I caught the five and led them down stopping at the end of the track. A motorbike was coming down the hill and I thought I would let him pass. 

He had seen me waiting here and came very slowly towards us. He was only a few yards away when the brood mares, waiting at their gate several feet above us suddenly took off which made the youngsters jump forward. That was OK BIT, one of them stood on the side of my boot causing me to fall. 
I healed all but one which shot in front of the motorbike. The driver swerved, came off the bike which slid down the road whilst the elderly man rolled and slammed into the gate post. Sharon ran to see what had happened and took the horses whilst I helped the old man. He was very shaken but basically unharmed, more worried about his bike! 

I brought the bike into the yard and called his son to come get him. 

Bless him he didn't want a fuss. The Boss gave me the insurance forms to fill in which I did. When it came to the part 'We're you negligent?' I said I was because I should not have been bringing in five horses on my own. Boss thought this was wrong but experience had taught me that with animals you should always admit negligence if you want the injured party to be paid out or, they will,say it was 'an act of God!'

.........................
Going back to Tom's days. 

David arrived to go hunting and his car was scratched right up. Front, sides and even the roof. It was a mess. Total respiratory needed. 
I asked him what had happened and he said that he had driven to the top of one of his fields and found a heifer in trouble calving. He had his daughter Sophie with him, she was about six or seven. 

As David got to the heifer so Sophie said,"Daddy!"
"Not now Sophie, can't you see I'm trying to save this calf?"
"But Daddy!"
"Not now! Get the ropes from the car!"

David waited and when he looked there was Sophie running down the hill to get the ropes from the car. He hadn't put the hand brake on and it had rolled off down quite a steep hill through two barb wire fences and then a hedge and more wire, across the road into a ditch! 

Sophie was trying to tell him the car was moving! 

He did get the call born. 


.......................

David could be very belligerent. Another time he had his son Sam with him. They had been to the mainland to buy some cattle. On getting back David told Sam (8) tomstand one side of the ramp to stop the cattle going onto the road instead of into the field. 
Sam refused. 
This annoyed David who, waving his arm said, "Son, don't you realise that one day this will all be yours?"

"I'm not going to be a farmer."
"What do you mean, you aren't going to be a farmer? What are you going to be?"
"I'm going to be a vicar!"
"A vicar? Why?"
"Well, I was trying to tell you something and you wouldn't listen. In church the vicar didn't know what he was talking about. He said God created the land a d animals in seven days. Takes grass longer than that to germinate. Everyone was listening to him so they will have to listen to me too!"

Taught David a lesson.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Going back. A bit about Riding for the Disabled.*

When I first started at the indoor arena there was an RDA group which I offered to help. I was asked to go with a young teen girl, Annie. She was severely autistic. She didn't talk at all and was institutionalised at a school. 

What no one told me was that Annie hated to be touched. So, when she was holding her reins the wrong way I took her wrist to correct her. Before I knew it she was biting me on my hand just below the forefinger. She would not let go and in trying to pull my hand away she fell off and we both ended up on the floor. 
People tried to get her to let go but she wouldn't so, tit for tat, I bit her back, hard. She let go and before anyone could say anything I was standing, had picked her up and thrown her back onto the pony. Only then was I told she hated to be touched. 

The following week I was told to go with another child but I insisted I took Annie. We had more problems in that she slapped me so I slapped her. She went to bite me again and I pressed my teeth into her thigh. She stopped. 

I found I could correct her hands or her heels without a tantrum after a while. I was pushing one lad out the arena and another had hold ofmthe wheelchair. All of a sudden a clammy hand took hold of mine it was Annie actually initiating human contact. 

Unfortunately she was stopped riding by the committee as she was 'to disruptive '

This group meant well but to my way of thinking they were not doing anything more than giving the children pony rides. Most of the children were capable of doing a lot more. 

All the children had to wear special belts with two loop handles on them and the walkers were meant to hold these handles. It didn't take long for a leader's arm to tire so they were pullling down on the strap. They had to go! 

I was soon elected onto the committee and started to push for radical changes. We lengthened the time they had at the school by separating the manually challenged and physically challenged making it easier to teach them. It also doubled the number of children riding. 

I asked for the physiotherapist to attend to give advice on what each child needed in the way of exercising certain muscles. I found those with leg problems did way better riding bareback. The movement of the pony seemed to massage their legs and made them straighten out a lot more. 

Many of the children were able to ride unaided at a walk and trot. It was great for them to have a form of independence. Those being led had to work for their 'freedom'


----------



## egrogan

Foxhunter said:


> *Going back. A bit about Riding for the Disabled.*
> This group meant well but to my way of thinking they were not doing anything more than giving the children pony rides. Most of the children were capable of doing a lot more.


When I started working with the US version of RDA, the point you made above was the hardest thing for me to internalize and act on...which is hard to admit as I had lots of experiences teaching students with various disabilities in a traditional school classroom and very much prioritized working towards independence. I think it was my own "sense of mortality" when it came to riding that made me want to protect, rather than challenge, students. 

There is so much variation in how therapeutic riding instructors are trained here, it really comes down to how you are exposed to instructional styles while going through your training. The curriculum certainly teaches that the purpose of therapeutic riding is _teaching riding_ with appropriate modifications. But very often as an instructor, I knew little about my students- their goals, their abilities and disabilities, their learning styles, the strategies for both behavior management and learning that worked well for them at school- that I admit I often defaulted to "pony ride" lessons. They were safe and fun, but you're right, they did not take advantage of the student's full potential. If I had had my way, I would have created a much closer, collaborative relationship between our therapeutic riding center and the local school district to share information, but the special education coordinator "didn't believe in therapeutic riding" so there was no way to even initiate a conversation as she refused to meet with us. A real missed opportunity. Sadly, the program closed down about a year ago as funding was unsustainable.


----------



## knightrider

This woman is such an inspiration to me!






Speaking of handicapped riders being able to do much more than pony rides!


----------



## Foxhunter

There was one little boy, Simon. He was Cerebral Palsy. He couldn't walk, his legs were always drawn up and tomcompound matters he was profoundly deaf. No one liked taking him as he was always looking around and didn't understand what he was meant to do. 
It was decided to stop him and take some other child that might progress more. 

That summer I was in town and saw Simon in a child's buggy, he was 8 and tiny. The woman with him was talking to another lady. I stopped and knelt down to speak to Simon who recognised me. He arched his back and I noticed that to do so he braced his little legs. His arms went up in the air, he made noises and dribbled from a big grin. 

The woman obviously felt him moving around and spoke to me. I introduced myself and she thanked me profusely. She went on to tell me that on a Sunday Simon would not go to sleep unless his riding hat was hanging from his cot and on a Wednesday it was his swim things. 

What right did any of us have to stop one of his two pleasures in life? Unfortunately others didn't agree so I arranged formSimon to have rides with me after school. Either of his parents or big brother drove him to us and one on one in the indoor arena he concentrated a lot more. 
I used a very fat pony for him bareback and within twenty minutes is legs were stretched way down. 

About two years after two lessons a week he was walking. The physio and his parents all put it down to riding being a big help. 

..............

Another lad, Liam, again a severe autistic young teen lad. He never spoke. It took a while to get him on a horse but once on he loved it. One day he escaped from the school and asked a woman "Ride ?" A town about 8 miles was Ryde.

The woman thought he was a foreigner student and put him on a bus to Ryde. The driver also thought he was a foreigner and that his fare would be paid on reaching Ryde. At the terminus there was no one to meet him the driver questioned him and all he would say was "Ride."
The driver realised something was wrong and called the police. Liam had been reported missing so he got a ride back in a police car. 

From that moment they managed to get him talking. 

..........

I was asked to do a display with the RDA at the county show. This wasn't easy as it meant transporting to many ponies as well as the competition ones. 
In the end I decided that we would have a race. 

I selected two teams of eight physically handicapped. We had a few practises at home to get the teams on a level. 
The event was mid afternoon whilst the Open Jumping course was being set up so people generally left to get a drink. Sure enough they were leaving their seats when two Landrovers and trailers drove into the ring followed by two school buses. That caught their attention. 

The children had to unload the two ponies, remove their bandages. Put the saddle on. One rider mounted and rode through bending poles, swapped riders at the other end then they had to dismount, take the saddle off, put the bandages on and load e ponies in their respective trailers. 

The great thing was that the children who were wheelchair bound could roll the bandages up and the less disabled do the work. 

The audience went wild cheering them on. We made it a dead heat so they were all presented with rosettes. 

........

I was asked to take some special ed children. These were all young teen boys who had either truants from school or been in trouble with the law. 

I had six at a time. They were OK. Liked to think themselves tough, tried to shock with terrible language and riding was a way of getting out of school.

Oh boy, did I have fun with them! If they were trying to be clever I would call them old women or grannies. I teased them unmercifully. If they complained about something I jut laughed at them and they knew I would carry out anything I had threatened them with. 

One day they were brushing the ponies down when Rocky was stung by a horsefly. He swished his tail catching the lad across the face. Hos reaction was to kick Rocky in the gut - hard. I saw it all and hollered at him really annoyed. The lad moved back and was standing by Rocky's shoulder looking at me as I berated him, telling homif he wanted a kicking match then my money would be on Rocky. 

Rocky looked around the lad at me. He then looked down and back at me. I had an idea of what was about to happen. Sure enough, Rocky lifted his front foot and teon on this lad's foot and proceeded to put all his weight on it. 

The lad screamed, I laughed and called him a cosy and told the other lads to come see cry baby. Mean I know but, rather like dealing with a difficult horse, I had to get them a bit afraid of me before I could allow them to have fun. 

They did well, worked hard and really began to enjoy it and came quite trustworthy around th animals.


----------



## Foxhunter

I have mentioned my friend Daryl and incidents that happened with her horses. 

We rode together as children, Daryl was lucky in that her parents were well off and she had lovely horses though D always worked hard to pay and ride them. 

D had an odd life, her father would blackmail her with the horses and her mother wasn't a lot better. In all the years I have known her only once have I known her to have a really good belly laugh and really let herself go. 

Sister worked for her for a few years way back. When Sally was getting married she sent D an invite and never had a reply. When I moved away we basically lost contact. If I went to a horse event and she was there we always had a good chat but that was it. 

I haven't seen her since I retired. This evening Sally called me to say that D was in the local hospice. I will call in the morning to see if she is up,to having visitors. Her parents are dead and her brother was ostracised years ago and being a loner I wonder if she has had many visit her. 

So sad, she is only a couple of years older than me.


----------



## Foxhunter

I had collected the brood mares and foals from the various studs they had been to. I had them in a paddock together. They ate the grass down so I wanted to let them through intoma lowere pasture. 

We had electric tape at the time so, I opened the wide electo gate to let them through. The five mares, on seeing it open, shot through at a canter. The foals all followed to the fence line and then they swerved off running along the fence line. The mares had stopped a d started,to eat the fresh grass, saw the foals charging around their original paddock and trotted back up to get them. 

This time they trotted through the gate but the foals still swerved away. Mares topped a little way into the paddock and turned again. This time the galloped through the gateway, the foals joined them. Cinnamon led the way galloping in the lead, as they went around the paddock somthe other mares organised themselves so with Cinnamon in the lead three mares formed a barrier down one side of the herd and the last brought up the rear. 

Cinnamon galloped through the gateway and the foals couldn't swerve off because the others were acting as a barrier. 

Problem solved! 

The foals had obviously tested the fence and were not going to get bitten again!


----------



## Foxhunter

When my first riding school was sold the parents of three liveries bought it and had a German man run it. He ran a very tight ship and was good at teaching and schooling, _if_ the rider wanted to go further. If they were just riding for fun they soon stopped as he pushed them to hard. 

My sister and a S.A. girl Nanette, ho lodged with my parents, were working there. They had a lesson every day, were given lectures and homework. 

There was a falling out with this man and he left. Another man was employed, he wasn't very experienced and basically lazy. He lodged with a family friend and the two girls would be at work for over an hour before he turned up. They rarely got a lesson and he expected them to work building more cross country fences until 9 p.m. 

My mother had a go at him about his attitude and they way he was treating the girls. Things didn't improve so they left. Nanette was a minor, she was 17 I think, and the man said she had to come to work as he was her legal guardian, which was not true. My mother was granted that power. 

Sally went to work for Daryl and Nanette went back to S.A. 

I came home injured and was on crutches. It was Nanette birthday, she was 18 therefore it was legal for her to consume alcohol! Five of us went to the little pub at the end of the road. The woman who ran it was a bit of a tyrant and tight as a duck's butt and that is watertight! 

Three girls were drinking Bacardi and Coke, another lager and I was on Guinness. We had had one round and as he place was packed we were sitting on the stairs. Mary the bartender, looked at Sally who was wearing a pair of light blue jeans with a suede patch on the legs (all the rage at the time) the dye had run a bit but it was obvious they were clean. Mary said, "I hope those jeans are clean!" Which to my mind was bloody rude. 

I went tomget a second round in. Without thinking Mary shook the bottle of Coke and it fizzed all over the place. She tried to charge me full price and I refused to pay for a quarter bottle of Coke. She didn't like that but had to give in. 

Not long after our second drinks the man walked in. He was wearing very dirty clothing and equally filthy boots. Mary greeted him like a long lost friend. Sally and Ninettee wanted to leave but, me being me, wouldn't allow him to drive the two girls out. 

It was t long before he started talking about me! I had never met the man before but he was saying some very nasty things including that I was the local bike and that he bet there weren't many men in there that hadn't ridden me! 

It was funny to hear and see, he thought he was so clever. Locals, most had known me my whole life and all would have every respect for my parents, were embarrassed and tried to stop him pointing out that I was actually there. That made him worse. 

I was getting really annoyed about it and despite friends trying to stop me, I went across to confront him. He might have been able to bully little sister but we were chalk and cheese. 

Mary mad some rude comment as I approached him and I just turned and said, "How come he's so welcome, non of his clothes are clean?"

He was watching me approach and stood there with a smirk on his face thinking he was so clever. Others moved back to give me room and, before he could say anything I poked him good and hard in the solar plexus with the end of my crutch. 

I never raised my voice, just the opposite, I hissed between closed teeth continually poking him with the crutch. He backed away and someone opened the door as he backed his way out. He lost his footing and ended up in the gutter with his beer spilled all over him. This brought about roars of laughter and folks saying that I was so like my father! 

Later I went back to run the riding school and he started up on his own. 

He never spoke to me and on one occasion he was about to go in to do a dressage test when I stopped him to remove his horse's tail bandage, he told me not to touch his horse and was eliminated for the horse wearing a bandage! That's hoe petty he was towards me.


----------



## Foxhunter

A few years later four of us went to the mainland for a cross country competition. 

I was riding a good cob, Jim, Sue was on Rick, the man on Kytek, and Tom on one of his pupil's horse. Someone had entered all four of us for a team event. At each jump there were three choices of height, one member of the team had to jump the largest though all four could if they wanted. 

Sue and I were in the open class, Tom and the man in the novice. 

It was decided with the team that Sue would be the lead rider and I would bring up the rear. We set off at a good pace and had jumped four or five fences. Sue went into a sunken road and pulled out. There was a child playing in the sand on the landing side. 

Luckily the other two saw and went to the side. Sue had to circle around and come in behind me. We were in woods so no chance of her getting into the lead. 

There was a set of rails, a big open ditch and then more rails out. Kytek went to stop at the ditch and Sue and I, hard on his heels, both whacked the horse across his butt so he jumped! 

On coming out of the woods Sue was having control problems with Rick and ended up jumping some big rails into a field. She didn't pause but looped around and jumped back out. 

The next there was a line of brush fences, these could be taken at a gallop but bother the men were keeping a very steady pace, Sue and I just charged past them and raced into them like we were jump jockeys! 

We were in the lead, a couple of fences on there was a jump into and out of water. Kytek had been eliminated here so Sue and I let Tom take the lead and we circled around to get behind Kytek who, having had us crack him earlier at the ditch, was t going to stop again. 

The last fence was a dressing fence, jut a couple of full length telegraph poles which had to be jumped so all four horses had legs off the ground at the same time, you jumped one, circled and jumped the other. 

We finished together and pictures taken at the fence had all four horses in the air together both sides of the fence. We actually won which was a surprise. 

There had been torrential rain the night before and the area used as a car park was bogged down so all horseboxes and trailers had to be parked on the estate road. 

We were walking back to the trailer, a man was reversing into a gateway. It was a tight place to turn but doable. I could see he was about to hit a tree stump and told him to stop. He did but was furious. He jumped out the car and threw his keys at me saying that if I could do a better job do it. 

I took the keys, got into his car, pulled it forward, reversed back missing the stump, and then back onto the road facing the exit. I handed his keys back and just said, "some women can drive!"


----------



## Foxhunter

*Way back!*

_Seeing the mention of Salmon Sales reminded me of this, back of the days with Bill._

I don't know how or why but Bill and I went to a sale at Southal, not the best place to find good sound horses. 

We looked around and there were a couple that I thought might be sellable if they went for the right price. Then Bill sat a horse being led up. Itmwas meant to be an iron grey but was the dirtiest horse I have ever seen. He was caked in cow dung and had obviously been in a deep litter barn with cattle for quite some time. The muck was embedded in his coat. 

I liked the look of the horse, about 15.2, good conformation, a kind eye and looked sound as he was run up and down. 

The catalogue said that he was four and had been backed. That was it. 

I stood and watched, there was quite a bit of interest in him. I was suspicious as there's had to be a reason as to why he was there. Finally I spotted it. On one front leg he had a proud flesh wound running down his cannon bone from knee to fetlock. It was a good three inches wide. 
It wasn't obvious because of all the much on him but in trotting up and down some had broken off exposing a small part of the wound. 

Closer looking you could see the actual,area. It wasn't good. 

Bill was great, he casually went around people interested and pointed out the wound and said it was obviously not going to heal or they would have done it. 

When the horse came in the ring there were few bidders, a couple of knackermen mad low offers and I stepped in with a bit of £125. This was pushed up but I bought him for £170 just above killing price. 

Managed to get a haulier to bring him and a pony I had also bought, back for up, 

It took me the best part of ten days to wash the muck off that horse, it was a matter of soaking, soaking again and scrubbing hard. We did get the wound cleaned the next day. 

My vet said it would be hard to heal and set in on a course of tetracycline. That did the job and he came into work. He was a genuine little horse with the biggest heart. Once the wound was healed he sold very easily to a Pony Club rider and did very well for her.


----------



## Foxhunter

Once we moved I soon got into a routine. Not long after I had a call from my friend Nicky (owner of Murphy) asking me if I could have her horse to sell. 

Some months before this Nicky had been riding this horse out Hunting when he put his foot in a hole and came down. Nicky was thrown hard and fast and ended up with a severe concussion and a neck broken in three places. She was air lifted straight to a mainland hospital where she was kept in a coma for, I think, nearly three months. 

Firstly it was a surprise that she lived, then an even bigger surprise that she, after months of phsyiotherapy, she was walking and talking. She had a hard time of it all. 

So Rufus came to me to be sold. He wasn't very big, around 15.1 but as strong as an on and a neck on him like a bull. 

Nicky always turned her horses out immaculately and Rufus was no different in that his mane and tail were beautifully pulled and he had been recently clipped - except his belly was basically untouched. A very nicely put together little horse, breeding unknown but I would say an Irish Draft x Connemara. I knew there were issues, that he could kick at you, pulled like a train and was known to take a chunk out of you with little warning. 

First thing I did was get the clippers out and clip his belly hair. He swung into me and threatened to squash me, a good shove back and an open handed slap made him think that it wasn't worth it. Then came the kicking. That warranted another hard slap and me booting his back leg as he began to lift it. After that he never moved. 

He had the hair rubbed off his back from the saddle moving. When you went to tack him he was miserable and ansty, he was also misaligned, 

He wasn't easy to find a saddle that fitted and didn't move but my dressage saddle did the job. Riding him was a challenge, he pulled and pulled hard, I swapped bits and nothing made any difference. In the end I settled with a Myler low port D ring snaffle. 

I was told that if I lunged him to not pick up a lunge whip as he would just set his neck and take off. I never found holding the whip a problem but it was some time before I did actually lunge him and by then we had formed quite a good bond. I knew I had won him over when he allowed me to go into his stable with him when he was laying down. Previously as soon as you entered the barn he would leap to his feet. 

Another thing he would do when leading was just set his neck and gallop off. Using a chain worked but the moment it was off, away he would go. I ended up using about 50 yards of rope tied to a gatepost. When he took off I just let him go and he turned Right over landing across the electric fence. After that I could lead him anywhere without him pulling at all. 

I had several people come look at him but he was to strong for them. I had taken him cub hunting and although he was strong I enjoyed it. 

One day, in some woods, Hounds were crashing about. Some Hounds started to speak but it was the wrong tome and I suspected he were on a deer. 
Sure enough a young stag crossed the path about 100 yards from where I was standing. I charged Rufus to where he had crossed and sure enough two couplemof new entry were after him. I swung my hunting whip and cracked it fully expecting Rufus to freak but he stood stock still. As Hounds neared so I lashed them several times, again Rufus never moved. 

I was certain that he had been a Hunt horse as most take a while to get use to a whip being cracked from their back. 

By Christmas I made Nicky an offer and ended up with owning Rufus. 

It didn't take long for his real character to show through. He had a great sense of humour and knew when he was being naughty. I would throw his sheet on and before I could do it up he would pull it off and hand it back to me. He would undo his top bolt and escape the barn, he would run outside, grab some grass and when I went after him he would shoot forward and kick out both hinds - always some distance away from me, then rush around the barn going in the other door, back into his stable and then pull the door closed, looking at me as if to say, "Me being naughty, no way!"

When turned out he would come to the gate, as they all would, and get in a sulk if I didn't halter him first. He only did this with me, no one else. Quite a character.


----------



## Foxhunter

It wasn't long after Rufus arrived that the Boss had the news that the cancer had returned. 

He had more major surgery on his jaw which involves removing the roof of his mouth and part of his tongue. When he returned from hospital he wasn't t allowed to drive and life was very difficult. 
He went to an agency that supplied assistants. These stayed for a month and then moved on to the next. All these were South African and all very good and friendly. 

At first it was not so bad, it was spring and the horses were not in heavy work, everyone pulled together and did what was needed. It only became hard when the drugs he was given started to take more of a hold. 

The girl at the time was probably the best of the bunch, she was fun and understanding. I get a call in the middle of the night to say Boss had got up and wanted to drive to Ascot for the racing. I went in to find him dressed in his morning suit complete with top hat, determined to go racing. She was trying to get him back to bed but he wasn't having anything of it. 

I came in and said, "What the heck are you thinking?"
He told me he was going racing, to which I replied,"Have you forgotten the Browns are picking you up later, beat you get some rest and go back to bed." 
He went back to bed fully dressed in his morning suit. 
Another time he got out of bed, slipped and split his head open on a table, there was blood everywhere. Had to call a Dr to get it stitched. 
That time was farcical. His youngest stepson had come from the US to see him and brought his g/friend. They had gone out to eat when the above happened and came back just before the Dr arrived. 
The g/friend, who I had instinctively disliked on meeting her a couple of years before, was immediately fussing and flapping and coping over the Boss. When the Dr arrived she wanted to stay in the room which I thought was none of her bloody business. I kicked everyone out except the care giver and left myself. 
Downstairs she verbally went for me, screeching, telling me it was none of my business as I was only a worker - wrong thing to do. Oh boy, I let her have her say, most of it very nasty, without saying a word until she had run out of words. 
Then, in a very calm voice, not shouting at all but very firmly told her that she was an entitled ***** and absolutely nothing to do with her, I was the one constant in his life, here every day and night. She should go back to Ca. and her husband. 

That went down like a lead brick! I never moved md kept a stare on her. She looked to Rob for support but he wouldn't take me on. 

I was really mad, they left the next day and she never came back. 

I had known Rob for 20 years. He was at Uni when I started and if he came home and parents were away I always cooked for him and his mates. He had a job that was based in the US and involved a lot of travel. He visited at least once a year, usually more even if it was just for a couple of days, I noticed at he had changed a lot. I often saw a very annoyed expression on his face, hard to explain, I didn't like it and thought it was nasty. Hard to explain as it was only fleeting before he was laughing again. 

I had long learned to listen to my instinct and truthfully felt that he wanted Boss to die and get what he could. He did visit way more than the other two stepson, one was in Australia and Columbia, the other in London and hooked on cocaine but, I felt he was out formwhat he could get. 

Millie, his daughter was a regular visitor and towards the end a permanent fixture. 

It became a matter of time, he had fought a great fight against the cancer but wasn't going to win. His bed was moved into the drawing room, nurses came in twice a day and we tended his needs. Mentally he was sound. I had worked for him for nearly 20 years and told him I wanted a gold watch for putting up with him for all that time. He didn't believe it was that long, went to his office and brought out a folder, he realised I was a week out (I wasn't as the first week was a trial) butnwe had a laugh about it all. 

After a week more or less in a coma, he thankfully passed peacefully.


----------



## Foxhunter

(Another thread brought back a memory.) 

When I was at Mary's a woman who rode out each morning had a steeplechase mare that had sarcoidosis on the side of her mouth. These were quite big and had been removed at the end of the previous season, surgically only to grow back again. 
The area was significant, a circle of them about 4" in diameter. When ridden these were rubbed and bled a lot despite bit guards so looked pretty bad if she raced and caused concern from the public. 

The owner had heard about a man who had a cream that killed the sarcoidosis and had asked him to come see the mare. 

The old man arrived driven by his son who was a vet. He looked at the area and produced a cream. Using a wooden spatula he covered the area in the cram, handed the owner a couple of film canisters with the cream and told her to apply more the next day and every day for four days and then every alternate day and to call him when it was ready. 

When asked, "What's ready?" He just said, "You'll know!"

All seemed fine for the first three days and then it started to swell. The right side of her face became puffy, her right eye was swollen and after five or six days her right ear was fixed forward and her left also beginning to swell. 
She called the old man and he just said, "Is it ready?"
"Well, it is really swollen!"
"So, it's not ready yet, call me when it is."

About two days after this it was as if someone had taken a scalpel blade and cut a circle around then sarcoids. It had to be ready!

Back came the old man and his son. The old boy took one look and said, "It's ready"

He took hold of the rea and with a quick twist and pull was left with the mass in his hand with tentacles to it. The mare was left with about a quarter inch piece of skin in the corner of her mouth and the feast was open, about six inches. When her mouth was closed you could see her forward molars. 

He wasn't in the slightest concerned and just said to keep the flies off and it would heal. 

The area closed without stitching and the mare never had them return. 

The Boss had a mare that had also had sarcoids removed only for them tomgrow back. I called the old man and he treated them. This time I knew when they were ready! 
He also treated a lovely show horse that had sarcoids between back and front legs. One on his chest was bigger than a tennis ball. 

Both horses swelled horrendously yet they weren't bothered by it, when he removed the biggest one from the chest it had roots about a foot long. That horse had fantastic movement and afterwards it was even greater.


----------



## Foxhunter

I had a long weekend off and came home. On the ferry I met a friend, a notable rider, who asked if I wanted to hunt a new horse she had just bought. 
I didn't have any of my hunting gear with me and told her if I could gather something together, I would. 

I borrowed a jacket and boots, had some old breeches in my room and an old hunting cap and thought I would look half respectable, we met at a place just down the road from the Meet. The horse was a big rangy chestnut gelding. I mounted him and rode to the Meet. He was fine as we all stood around chatting and drinking, stuffing as many nibbles being handed out, in our mouths and pockets. 

Rode at a trot to the first draw. The field was spread out to stop the fox from going up onto the road. Hounds were working well and soon had a fox on the run at the far end of the copse they had been drawing. 

Before the Field Master moved - giving Hounds a chance to all get on the line, a pony ridden by an ex pupil of mine, spun around and took off determined to catch the fox and sod the Hounds! Before I knew it this horse had also spun and hooked off with me rapidly gaining on pony which beat me to an open gate. 
I screamed at the girl to pull on her right rein to turn the pony upmthe hill and off the line the Hounds were on. She did and I followed. We finally pulled up at a big hedge and breathed a sigh of relief. 

The Field were soon coming along. We locked in with them, me making sure my horse saw little daylight and the girl behind me. It was a short sharp run before Hounds checked. 
People were riding up to me saying how kind I was to 'rescue' the girl. 

Little did they know!


----------



## Foxhunter

After Boss died things came as a bit of a shock. Millie, his daughter moved from London and lived in the house. 

We knew he had some horses in Eire but, not as many as he had! Th number was in the twenties, most of them youngsters. We arranged for them to be sold and those that weren't, were brought over. This was about six. 

One was a mare recovering from a cracked pelvis, another a big boat of a horse, he needed time to grow into himself, and a couple of others. 

Having so many meant I needed some help, enter Anna into the picture. 

Anna had just finished her A level exams at school. She was thinking about becoming a vet. She wanted a job for the summer so she was taken on. 

I really liked her, she had a great personality, rode well and was a worker. 

She hadn't been working long, a couple of weeks I think, when my nephew, Tobias, came to stay. He was about 14 and suddenly decided he wanted to ride, not having had any interest from the age of about 7. We had Rusty, Sharon's pony, back and he was ideal for Tobias to ride. 

I had things to do and sent Anna and Tobias out together telling them where to go. Anna was riding an ex polo pony belonging to Millie's friend. Neither animals were very fit and as both were laminitic, needed the work. 

I told them where to go and where to canter, one place being up a hill with the order of "Don't push them up the hill as it is long and steep."

They set off and I was trimming the grass from under the electric fence. I was in a world of my own, ear protectors on, happily swinging the strimmer back and forth. Next thing I near,y needed a laundry change as Anna, red in the face and obviously had been crying, came up behind me. 

"It's Rusty, he's dead, well, I think he's dead, I'm sure he's dead." She was so upset. 
I asked what had happened and she said they had cantered up the hill about a third of the way and walked to the next gate. Tobias rode Rusty to open the gate, Anna saw him stagger and his eyes rolled back. She screamed for Tobias to jump off, which he did, and Rusty just dropped down. 

I could see she was worried that I was going to have a go at her and expect her to take the responsibility for what had happened. She had tears rolling down her cheeks and was shaking. 
"Oh well. Just goes to show when your number is up, it's up. If you have live stock you sure as hell have dead stock."

That did make her sort of smile and she said, "Oh, I owe Tobias a pound. He said that was what you would say."

We drove up to where the path came onto the road, I was hoping to drive along the track to the hill but the gate was padlocked. We had to walk for about a mile tomwhere Tobias was waiting with a very dead Rusty. 

I do love my nephew, he just held his hand out for his pound. 

Tobias had taken the tack off and we had to carry that all the way back to the car. I called the Hunt to go collect him which they did. 

Poor Rusty, he was a cracking pony. We didn't have an autopsy as it wasn't going to bring him back but I suspect he had an anorism


----------



## Foxhunter

_Going back and non horsey. A family friend and I were having a chat about my father and this came up. _

Last Monday in May is a holiday in the U.K. Every year starting on the Friday, the Island is infiltrated by motor scooter riders. Hundreds of them, all ages. They drive around, usually making a lot of noise and often also making a lot of mess. 

It was way back when they first organised this rally. First couple of years wasn't so bad but then the numbers increased and much younger riders. 

On this particular Sunday, Dad took the dogs out for a walk. He went down the cliffs and as he passed the boating lake he could see a number of people in a shelter, they had obviously spent the night there. 
On the beach Dad saw that the stacks of deckchairs had been ripped open and many of them burnt. He went to the longshoremen and told them of the lads camping in the shelter. 

They walked back and sure enough there were several more deckchairs there and more had been burnt. Dad immediately asked what was going on and what right did they have to take some one's property and destroy it. 
Most lads were contrite but, as always a couple were moths and one tried to hit Dad. 

Silly thing to try! 

Before he knew what was happening Dad had him in an arm lock and threw him in the boating lake. 

My GSD, General, thought this was great and put himself on the path not allowing any of the lads to run away. In the end they were all jumping into the lake to avoid both the dog and father. 

Dad came home and was laughing so hard we could hardly understand him.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Going back*

When I was around 13, I went to ride some ponies for a well known horsewoman that Margaret had trained with. She was renowned for her hot temper. 

We went out on a ride, about six of us and the pony I was riding was very headstrong and liked to tank off. Viv was in the lead and me bringing up the rear, cantering through some woodland. 

I held the pony back so there's were about ten lengths between me and the horse in front. The path was quite wide and as we charged along and came round a corner there was a assume tree in the centre of the track, all the others had gone right so I decided to go left. Pony thought otherwise! 
As we neared the tree I suddenly gave up and decided to let him go right, he gave up trying to go right and went left. We departed company and I went head first into the tree. I saw stars and was probably knocked out for a few seconds. Pony galloped on and was caught and they all came back looking for me. I watched then go past without saying anything! 

When they got to the last place I had been seen they came back and saw me. I got a rollicking for not saying anything as they rode past! 

I went with Viv to a show. She had three horses to jump including her stallion. (At that time there were very few stallions competing) As the horse was in stud season she only jumped him in the speed class. 
She had jumped a clear on her mare and I had taken her back to the horsebox whilst Viv sat in a deckchair near the collecting ring. I was leading Venus back so she could be warmed up for the jump off when two male riders stopped me and one said, "Go wake Viv up and tell her she is due in the ring!"
"No way! Think I want her to get mad?" 
"Go on, I'll give you ten bob."
"Ten shillings from each of you?"
"OK."
"Nope, I wouldn't do it for a pound from each of you."
"Three quid?"
I thought about it and agreed. 

I went over to where she was asleep and immediately saw that they had threaded some baler twine through her spurs and tied it to the back of the deckchair. 
I woke her up and she hurriedly stood to her feet which caused the chair to collapse and her to fall flat. 

I was expecting and eruption but she saw the two men roaring and cussed them, not me before roaring with laughter.


----------



## Foxhunter

Good folks, I haven't run out of years (yet) have been busy and am now trying to sort through it all and _try_ to get it into a book.


----------



## knightrider

A book! How wonderful! We will love it!


----------



## Foxhunter

Two things please help me with.

Firstly, there are many non horsey incidents - should I write about those? 

Secondly, need a catchy title 

Thoughts and ideas please.


----------



## Dragoon

I'd say yes to non-horsey stuff. Your thought processes and insights are the same...

A Lifetime with Horses.

I'd definitely buy it!!


----------



## egrogan

Yes, I would include the non-horsey stories; part of what I love from reading your writing is that I feel transported to a different time and place than I know. The horses are obviously a large part of it, but your home, your family, the pubs, "the lads," the walks, all of it paints the picture.


----------



## knightrider

Definitely the non-horsey stuff as well. A Lifetime with Horses is a great title.


----------



## Avna

On The Island: A Lifetime With Horses


----------



## Foxhunter

Avna, not so good as most was on the mainland! 

Here's one of early childhood. 

Wnen I was born it was just after WW2, most things were on rations although I think that food was back to normal. 

The town had been quite badly bombed due to there being a radar station on top of the Downs. All around us there were bomb sites, some had been built on and others were being prepared for building. 
The line of council houses opposite where we lived, all three bedrooms had large families of six children living in them. 

When Mummy returned from Nursing Home with me, the McCloud girls came across to see me. The eldest would have been in her early teens. When Mum was changing me they told her she was putting the nappy on me wrong for a new born and showed her how their mother did it. 

When not in school these girls would take me out to give Mummy a break. They didn't play with dolls but with real babies. 

Dad worked on the beach in the summer a life saver and in the winter he worked as a stoker at the local TB hospital. He was a hard worker, he cleared rubble from land at the back of the house and made it into a vegetable garden and kept chickens too. 

Mum helped out her mother with the boarding house she ran in the summer along with her sister, Melvina shortened to Mimi by me when I started talking. 

My maternal grandfather was a Master Carpenter and Cabinet Maker and had a building company. He also owned a lot of land and property handed down to him. 

From the age of three or four I would spend all day on he beach with Daddy. I soon learned that it was best to make friends with an older couple who had no children with them - they were only to pleased to buy me icecreams! 

Dad ran the beach with a rod of iron. The family he worked for had the middle section of beach, one end was run by the council and the other by another family. Back then people didn't go abroad and the beach would be packed. Any children running about disturbing other people were soon caught and given a thump or a ducking in the sea. 

One incident I do remember was a couple in their twenties, kissing and caresssing on towels on the sand. She was wearing a bikini, which was totally new to most people. 

Several of us children were fascinated by what was going on and there were many complaints. Dad told them to stop, they didn't. Second time he told them to stop or go back to their hotel room the man answered back. 

I could tell by Dad's face he was angry. He walked off, got a bucket from the office, filled it with sea water and threw it over th wpIr saying, "You act like dogs and i will treat you like dogs."

The man jumped up and went for Dad who easily dodged him and soon had him in a neck lock, marched him down to the sea, held his head under water, let him up for air before ducking him under again. 

When released he gathered their things and disappeared never to be seen again.


----------



## Foxhunter

I can remember many early events in my life. I recall going shopping with my maternal grandmother and stopping to look at things in a toy shop window. There was a teddy bear in a box and I liked the look of him. Later, on my third birthday, I had a present from gran and grampy, I knelt on a chair to undo this present, trying to undo the knots in the string, which would be used again and again, and not being able to. Grampy took his knife and holding my hand, cur the string with his knife. 
Inside the box was the same teddy. I am not sure whether I was more thrilled with the teddy or the fact grampy had allowed me to use his very sharp knife! 

Another time grampy had fallen asleep in his chair and I took a lipstick of Mimi's and drew a face on his bald head! He went up the town and, being a gentleman he would raise his hat to people he knew. Only when he got home did he realise why many were laughing at him.

Gran often did short term fostering. A new boy was coming, I was excited as he was the same age as me, around four. It was summer so there were guests staying. When the doorbell went I was first to the door, a woman, in uniform was standing there with a little boy who was wearing a dirty red and white T shirt, soiled shorts md a pair of sandals that had the toes cut out. He smelled really bad. 

Mummy gave him a bath and Mimi went to the chemist to get some Lysol as he had a head full of lice. Peter, the boy was then dressed in some of my clothes until some could be bought for him. 

We became friends. I remember he was very different to others I knew. He had an older brother Paul, who played with us. The adults went along with Paul being part of the family and chalked it up to an imaginary friend. Only later did they find out that the brothers had been left alone in a tenamnet house. They had been play fighting when Paul fell through the window and was killed. 

In the summer the family lived in the basement. It was always fairly dark as little natural light came through the window. 

One afternoon Gran had dozed off in the chair, Peter was sat opposite her colouring. When Gran woke she saw a bigger version of Peter stood by his side. She stood, rubbed her eyes and when she looked again the boy was gone. Peter went off and was adopted by a family. 

Gran always had a big children's party on Boxing Day, as I was the oldest grandchild they were mostly my friends. 

Mummy went to the nursing home to have my sister. My God parents came to look after me whilst she was gone for the week. Dad moved to stay with his mother (the houses backed onto each other) Aunty Dorry was a stickler for everything being 'right' a little bit like Hyacynth Bucket. 





Mummy promised me that if I was a good girl I would be the first one to hold the bay when she came home. I tried to be good but it wasn't easy. Aunt never had children and didn't understand I missed Mummy and at night she would take Big Ted from my bed and put him on a chair. Meals were exactly on time, shoes removed in the hallway and no friends allowed in unless officially invited. 

We had eaten and Aunt was washing up, I was stood on a low stool drying the dishes. I had a plate in my hand whe she said I was to slow and pulled the cloth away, I dropped the plate and it shattered. That upset me. 

Mum came home the next day. I was told to sit in a chair and not run to her as I might hurt the baby. In the week Mummy was gone I had only seen her once when Dad took me to visit her. Children were not allowed in so he lifted me up so I could wave to her through the window. 

Mummy stood with Sally in her arms and asked, "Has she been good?"

Aunty Dorry answered, "Well she broke a plate yesterday."
I was out of the chair, crying saying that it was an accident and her fault. 

Aunt went to hold Sally and Mummy said that she had promised I would be the first to hold her. O sat in the chair cushions all around me and Sally was placed in my arms. I held her until my legs went numb before she was taken away and held by someone else. 

One thing Aunt did was to cut up an old pair of leather gloves and patch big Ted"s paws that had worn out and the stuffing was falling out. She also had a gold charm bracelet which fascinated me and her husband, Uncle Tom would sing to me. 

I worshipped my little sister.


----------



## Avna

Avna said:


> On The Island: A Lifetime With Horses


On and Off The Island: A Lifetime With Horses

:mrgreen:


----------



## Foxhunter

It is silly little things I can recall. 

Mummy had a boiler for laundry, she was getting it out one morning and as she lifted the mangle into place so I had my thumb in the way and it was well and truly squashed. Aunt Nan, a family friend was there and she gave me a banana to make it better. I wasn't pleased when they both started to laugh at me squashing e banana onto my thumb. I mean, how could eating a banana make your thumb better? 

Later I had been playing on the bomb site across the road and found some slow worms under some old metal sheets. As I picked them up so my nail came off and I ran indoors to show mum. After all, surely a thumb nail was worth more than a tooth? 
Aunts Vena was there and she paled at the sight of both the slow worms and my nail. I was told after she left not to do such a thing in front of Aunty Vena as she was 'posh'

We had a toy day at school. I wanted to take Big Ted but Sally decided she wanted him. I said I would take something else but Mum insisted I took Ted. Sally was standing in the doorway of the living room, she was about two. She was throwing a tantrum holding both hands onto her hair and screaming. She only hadn't on her pyjama top. Mum had had enough and came up behind her and smacked her butt. Sally stopped screaming in total shock and turned to look at Mummy. She had a hand mark on her bottom. I dropped Ted and ran to school crying because I thought my sister was broken. 
Later I was sent to my bedroom after I had received a butt slap. I pulled my knickers down and saw that I too had been cracked! 

Mum had gone down the town. I had been out playing and returned home. An Indian salesman came to the door and tried to sell me some scarves and other material things. He told me to go find some money. I was frightened and didn't know what to do. I went to see if there was any money in the other room and as I did Lassie our Labrador wanted in from the back. The man ran out the house leaving several scarves behind! 

Playing on the scaffolding when th ebuilders finshed work (how the houses got built goodness knows because we were all over them. Playing a sort of hide and seek game and Marion McCloud getting stuck in the chimney of one of the houses. 

Learning to rode on my Father's bike. When he came home for lunch I would scoot it around the block, one day I stuck my foot under the cross bar and sis three pedals. That was it, I could ride a bike. Soon, with my leg through the cross bar I could pedal all around the block. 

I was given a bile. It was probably tenth hand but it worked. I was dared to ride it all around the block only using a piece of string attached to the handlebars. When I reached the top of North Street I realised that I had no brakes for the descent. I stuck to not grabbing the brakes until I reached West Street where I had started. I grabbed the brakes, put my foot down to brace for the tight turn. I did it but ran straight into the back of the milk float. I came off and scrathed my head on a milk crate. Lots of blood and several stitches but I won the dare.

The rag and bone man would periodically come around with his horse and cart calling out, "Any old rag and bones?" With all the words run into one. We children would run out with anything our parents had and were rewarded with a few pennies and a lollipop. We made a fuss of his big bay Shire Mare and I was so proud when he had run out of lollipops and so I was was allowed to sit on her back holding onto the hames. Way better than a lolly.


----------



## Dragoon

So you were a firecracker from birth, huh? 

I'm honored to read your stories. There are many books featuring intrepid adventurous children, but yours are amazing because they are about a real person!


----------



## Foxhunter

One e evening, when Sally was still a small baby, Mum had forgotten something and had to go to the corner shop. She asked me if I would stay with Sally of she ran there and back. I said I didn't mind. 
Mum left and I was sat waiting, Sally was asleep in her cot. 
I waited and waited, no Mum. Then there was a rattling on theback door and I thought someone was trying to get in. I grabbed Sally, wrapping her in a cover and I ran carrying g her to the shop. 
Just as I got there so Mum was rushing out. 
She was so angry, not with me but with herself as she would never leave us alone as a rule. She hadn't been loitering, she had grabbed the item and had it written in the book so hadn't even stopped to pay for it. 

Mummy explained I might have fallen and hurt Sally and that anyone trying to get in would have been able to do so as the door was never locked. 

When we got home it was the cat rattling the door handle to be let in. I was ashamed of allowing myself to be frightened of a normal thing. I vowed that in future, I would investigate before running.

Sitting at the table a roast meal was put in front of me. I looked at it and said, "I don't like cabbage," and proceeded to make a fuss about it. Mum removed my plate and I thought she was going to take the cabbage off. 

Not at all! My Mother could purée food with a fork faster than any magimix! 

My plate was plonked in front of me with the words, "you my leave your cabbage."

Leave it? Couldn't even see it. 

Back then you either called adults Mr or Mrs or if family friends, Aunty and Uncle so, I had lots of Aunts and Uncles who weren't related. 

Aunty Eve was such a person. She had moved to the Island because she had had TB. She only had part of one lung as the rest had been removed. Her husband, Uncle Eddy, worked away on the mainland. 

Usually we ate our main meal at lunchtime. Dad would come in from work and as school was only around the corner I came home too. I hadn't liked what was served and refused to eat. I was told, "You will get it for your tea." 
I knew I would. 

I went to see Aunty Eve. Uncle Eddy was coming home and she had made a Shepherd's Pie. I stood by his side drooling as he ate. He asked if I was hungry and proceeded to cut two slices from a loaf, butter the bread and place some of his meal on one half, spread some ketchup on the other and slap them together and give it to me. 
That was delicious! I still love a shepherd's pie sarney to this day. 
I was given a bowl with some apple crumble and custard which I polished off too. 
Dad came in looking for me. Aunty Eve remarked at how hungry I had been. He told her why. 
I never did get my left lunch served up to me. 


When I was about seven we moved to a bigger house across the road. I hated that house. It belonged to my maternal grandfather and an elderly couple had been living in there. She had died and he followed her not long after. It turned out they had a son who had never been seen by anyone local. The whole place was an utter mess. 
When I went in it smelled terribly, I refused to go back there again! When Dad went to burn the old mattress he found it was stuffed with paper money. My parents informed the solicitors who had dealt with couple and he informed the son who appeared, took the money and disappeared to who knows where. 
I believe the money was in the thousands of pounds, a great deal back then. 

Slowly they cleared the rooms leaving the basement to last. Down there in a room full of clutter they found several valuable items of value including gold Kruger rands. This time hey weren't so honest and the items sold and the money used to do the repairs. 
Daddy worked hard in getting the house habitable. The kitchen was inthe basement and one room was still to be brought into repair. 

We moved in and that was it. My parents lived there for 54 years.


----------



## Foxhunter

I learned to be resourceful, running errands earned a few pennies and I would save them for something special. I desperately wanted to go riding after staying with Big Sally and rising her pony but it was to costly. 

I guess that someone told me that there wasn't a tooth fairy, I wasn't sure so, when I lost a tooth I told my parents separately, that I wasn't sure. I made them promise not to tell anyone. I also did the same to Uncle Smithy and Aunty Gaye who were staying with us. 

That night I put the tooth under my pillow and in the morning woke to find three sixpences and a shilling. This was a BIG sum of money for me and I remember going down to the kitchen laughing saying that I now knew there wasn't a tooth fairy. Uncle Smithy admitted he had placed the shilling as he wasn't sure of the going rate. 

That Christmas Mum and Dad had a party Christmas Eve. As people were staying I was on a camp bed in Sally's room whilst she shared a bed with cousin Paul. It stood to reason no tooth fairy, no Father Christmas. I lay on my back listening to the noise from downstairs and the church clock chiming every 15 minutes. Dad came up to collect the pillowcases we had hung at the bottom of the beds. I asked him if Father Christmas had arrived and he told me that he had phoned to say he was running late and so they were taking the cases downstairs to save him time. 
I think my Dad thought me stupid as we didn't have a phone! Also when he got to the bottom of the stairs he told Mum, " Linda is still awake!"

Later, after folk had left Mum and Dad came up the stairs, I heard Mum say, "Paul's is in your left hand." 

There are three steps into my sister's room and at the time it was a linoleum floor with mats scattered around. Due to fitting the camp bed into the room one mat was on polished linoleum, Dad stepped on it, it slipped and he fell across my bed and broke the window. 
"I knew there wasn't a Father. Christmas!" I said. 

"Shhhh, don't you dare tell the little ones!"

I never did.


----------



## Foxhunter

We played in the streets, out in the Landslip and on the Downs, always in large groups. Built camps and had slides, sitting on piles of leaves, through the trees from top to bottom of the Downs. 

I didn't play with dolls but with our pets. Lassie, the yellow Lab was long suffering, as was the cat and rabbit. Dressed up, put into prays and taken out and about. 

When Kitty died we all dressed in dark clothes and placed him on a go cart (home made) with grass and flowers and paraded him around the block before burying him on a bomb site. Some years later I went to the cinema with Mummy and Sally to see the film Tomisina. There was a scene in that where the children did the same with their cat and I just sobbed so much Mum and Sally moved away from me! 

Neighbour's, Aunty Alice and Uncle Jim, had a GSD pup, Tina. The cat scratched her eye and she had to have it removed. They were worried that she might snap if a child ran up to her on her blind side and asked if I would go play with her.

I took that dog with me everywhere bar school. She was the first dog I really trained and she was 'mine' she would wait for me to come home from school. If I was ill with one of my migraines they had to bring her to see me before she would settle. 

I taught her all sorts of tricks including running up behind Sally and grabbing her plait and pulling her over backwards.

What a lovely big sister I was.


----------



## Foxhunter

My father was a voluntary coastguard. The place they stored the equipment was at the bottom of the garden. 

There were lookout huts along the coast and these were manned at night usually by volunteers. If they saw a maroon flare they would call the main coastguard unit and set off a rocket to alert the ship that they had been seen. Then a rocket would be let off from the garden that would call in the volunteers. This rocket was enormous and very loud, and bright it had to be so it could be heard over a storm. 

One night the rocket went off. There was a big storm raging. You could feel the some of our house rocking in the gusts of wind. Mummy was up making thermos flasks of coffee each with a shot of Brandy in it. 

Men cam from all around and the trailer hitched up and off they would go.

This night I can remember going to bed with Mummy and Sally and Lassie the dog and Mummy saying a prayer that they would all,be safe. 

In the morning, when I awoke, Mummy was already up. I went downstairs and stopped at the kitchen door. Mummy was at the stove cooking breakfast. At the table was a giaint of a man. He was the biggest man I have ever seen. He had aplate in front of him and Mum turned and asked if he wanted more, showing him the pan with more fried eggs in it. The man nodded his head and Mum shoved four eggs onto his plate. 

The man made Hagrid look like a dwarf. He had shoulder length hair and a full beard that started just under his eyes. 

I was speechless! 

He was one of the Russian sailors brought ashore from the ship. When he stood up he had to keep his head bent as he was to tall to stand straight! Admittedly the ceiling was only about 6'6" in height. 

I later learned that this ship had been driven ashore at Blackgang right under the Blackgang coastguard lookout. They hadn't seen the flare as it had blown behind the lookout. 

Caused a big stir when another unit beat them to the rescue.


----------



## Foxhunter

We lived about 200 yards from the infant school. I went home for lunch and longed to stay for school dinner. One time Mummy was going somewhere and I was given threepence to pay for school lunch on the Wednesday. 

The big day came and I went into the hall with everyone else and collected my lunch. I cannot remember what it was but for pudding it was semolina pudding - something I hated. I told the lady serving "No thank you I don't want pudding."

Miss Webley, the headmistress heard me and told me I had to eat it so a dish of semolina, complete with a dollop of jam in the centre was placed in my hands. I went back to the table and stirred it around making a pink mess. 
Miss Webley was watching me and told me to eat it. I refused and said that at home if I didn't want pudding I didn't have to eat it. She then told me I was t at home. 

I still refused to eat it though everyone else had finished so she started to spoon fed me. 

I told her I felt sick, she continued to feed me. At the end of it I went to run out and she grabbed my arm asking where I was going. I told her I was going to be sick and she told me I wasn't. 
With that I up chucked - a volatile up chick that landed on her chest. 

She was non to pleased but there was little she could do about it. 

.............

( Not sure it I wrote about this before)

Most of the grocery shopping was done at the corner shop, no supermarkets around back then. The owners, Mr and Mrs Butt, were a very kindly couple. I had gone to the shop for some sweets and saw that, on the shelf behind the counter, were tins of toffees. One of these had a picture of Roy Rodgers and Trigger on the front. 

Mum's birthday was coming up and I so wanted that tin. I asked Mrs Butt if I could buy it and she agreed. Instead of getting sweets I gave her my pennies and she put a sticker on the tin and put it under the counter. 

That tin cost 1 shilling and 9 pence. I did errands and paid most of the money, each time she wrote on the tin how much I had paid. I only had a few pennies to pay and she allowed me to take the tin home. 
I was so proud and carefully wrapped it and hid it on the bottom draw of my dressing table. I told Mummy I had hidden her present there and asked her not to look. She promised she wouldn't. 

Sally was about three making me seven at the time and I said she could share the present with me. 

Now, as often happens with children, this was a selfish present. Mum could have the toffees but I wanted the tin! 

I came home from school. Mum was vacuuming at the top of the house and I went up there. Both Sally and Mum were eating sweets and imasked where mine were. 
"Sally gave it to me."
Immediately I knew what she had done and rushed to check. Sure enough the paper had been ripped off and somehow she had taken the tape off the time that sealed the lid and left them in the draw. There were two toffees left. 

I was heart broken and Mum kept saying "it doesn't matter."

It DID matter, and had Mum not been there I would have killed my sister! 

Eight years later I was working. I had been given a Christmas bonus as well as many parents giving me a cash gift. I had bought Mum a book on dogs for her Christmas present and decided to get her a clock as an extra. 

In town I met Sally. Dad had given her some money to get Mummy a present. I told her what I was doing and toegether we went into a shop and chose a clock for the mantle piece. 

Sally asked if she could get some nice paper to,wrap it with and I agreed. She went off to the stationary shop with the clock. When she came home she went straight to her room to wrap it.

Firstly she wound the clock up so it was quite audible ticking away! She had some very posh paper and when we were opening our present she presented it to Mum. 

She had written the label filling up the inside and saying 'Love Sally' on the back of the label in very small writing was 'and Linda' 

It was years before I ever shared a gift to anyone, with my sister. 

Oh, and she never gave me any money,towards the clock!


----------



## Foxhunter

I quickly learned, at infant school that life wasn't fair. 

In the third class we had a new teacher. She was much younger than the other women who taught there. 

I could read, I was reading Enid Blyton books for children much older than me so, the 'Janet and John' books were totally boring. 

This is Janet. This is John. This is their dog Spot. 

We were having reading and when it was my turn I stood up and without the book, recited the next page. I got a smack for that. 

Another time we had to learn our three and four times table and individually stand up and recite whichever one the teacher told us. I was one of the last to go and I had to say the three times. 

I stood and instead of saying "Once times three is three, two times three is six," I stood and went "Three six nine twelve" through to thirty six. Again I was smacked. 

So, I found, at that early age, school was boring. Classes were large and to listen to the same old thing thirty plus times was so boring. 


I might well have been a cocky little girl but I didn't think it was fair to be punished for what I did.


----------



## Avna

Foxhunter said:


> I quickly learned, at infant school that life wasn't fair.
> 
> In the third class we had a new teacher. She was much younger than the other women who taught there.
> 
> I could read, I was reading Enid Blyton books for children much older than me so, the 'Janet and John' books were totally boring.
> 
> This is Janet. This is John. This is their dog Spot.
> 
> We were having reading and when it was my turn I stood up and without the book, recited the next page. I got a smack for that.
> 
> Another time we had to learn our three and four times table and individually stand up and recite whichever one the teacher told us. I was one of the last to go and I had to say the three times.
> 
> I stood and instead of saying "Once times three is three, two times three is six," I stood and went "Three six nine twelve" through to thirty six. Again I was smacked.
> 
> So, I found, at that early age, school was boring. Classes were large and to listen to the same old thing thirty plus times was so boring.
> 
> 
> I might well have been a cocky little girl but I didn't think it was fair to be punished for what I did.


This was me, too. 
The main thing I learned in grammar school was don't be the nail standing higher than the others. Everything was an unutterable waste of time.


----------



## Foxhunter

I think i was a fairly compliant child. No good trying to get one over on my parents they were glued at the hips! 

I did, however, possess a terrible temper. 

I recall as if it was yesterday the very first time I had a red mist moment. I was five or six. 

I had taken Lassie, out Lab and Aunty Eve's Judy for a walk out to a pond where I had thrown bread formthe ducks. 

_Can you imagine allowing a child of that age to go walking with two dogs on their own?_

Across the road was a much older boy, probably around 13, his name was Paul Scott and I never liked him. He had a black Cocker Spaniel which he was dragging upsode him and then lifting his foot and with his heel kicking the dog under the jaw. I could see the blood from the dog's mout and something just made this red mist come down. Everything was blurred as I ran across the road and grabbed hold of Paul by the back of his collar pulling him to the ground. I then set about beating him upmasmhard as I could. His dog ran off. 

I was pulled off Paul by Mr Farley who owned the shop we were outside of. I was crying and wriggled enough to get free. Paul ran off and Lassie snapped at his heels.

When I arrived home I was sobbing. Mummy didn't know what had happened. She didn't know if I had bitten Mr Farley or one of the dogs had. 
She marched me down to see what had occurred. 

Mr. Farley told her that I had reacted faster then a snake. They had seen what was happening with Paul's dog and were going to stop it but I beat them to it. 

There were no repercussions except that the dog was rehomed. I do know that when Paul was on the beach my father made sure that he behaved.

The second time I experienced the red mist was when three boys were taunting a younger girl. She had leukaemia and, back then little could be done. She was on steroids I believe and was bloated rather than fat. These boys were taunting her saying "you're going to die soon." 

The girl kept her head high and was walking away from me. She had long nearly black hair that came to her waist. 
The boys didn't see me and I soon caught up,with them and grabbing the two outside ones by their hair I slammed their heads into the middle one. (He got a double whammy!)

That was it I kicked them as hard as I could and was wearing my jodhpurs boots at the time. I must have also punched them because one had a bloody nose. In retaliation I had my hair pulled and punched several times. I did also bite one on his hand drawing blood before someone broke us up. 

I was probably about 11 at the time. That evening two lots of parents came knocking on the door and Dad told them the full story. The three were punished for what they had been doing. 

So, I was t always a 'good'girl. 

There were three other incidents, all during my school years. After that I never got the red mist, probably because I realised how dangerous I could be.


----------



## Foxhunter

In sorting through this load of posts I realised I have forgotten several 'interesting' ponies. 

Zen was a 12.2 brown pony and as ungenerous as they come. He was a little turd in a big way. His owner was a young girl very keen with little chance of mastering Zeb's mean ways. 
He was that nappy that you couldn't even lead him to, or from a field on his own, without him trying to pull away from you and charging back from whence he came. I just got fed up with him and decided that we were going to have it out one way or another. 

It took me about 45 minutes riding him to get him from the stables to the field one afternoon. He tried every trick in the book and after a couple of hours riding to and from the field he finally gave up and was going where I wanted. 

He did improve with his owner and typical of most ponies, went well for her once she had outgrown him. 

We ran a monthly dressage competition for the juniors in the indoor arena. Others ran it as I was busy with rides. I came back from a ride and one of the children ran up to tell me that Zeb was refusing to take a step in the arena. I handed my horse to someone and ran to the school. As I got there so Zeb was coming out, ears pricked a d looking happy to get his own way. 

It was the change of expression on his face when he saw me running towards him. I will not forget! He spun a 180 and charged back into the arena nearly leaving his tearful rider on the floor. I stood in the doorway and he went through his test without any problem at all. 

He knew better than to mess with me around. 

........................

I love the ponies, they have such strong characters and naughty ponies need to have someone on the ground that they respect. They soon learn their names and what is wanted of them. I could crack a whip around them and they wouldn't move unless they were thinking naughty! 
Generally I only had to verbally correct them and they complied.


----------



## Foxhunter

Watching something on YouTube reminded me of this one below.

It was at George's. One Friday afternoon about 3 p.m. A brand new Jaguar car pulls into the car park and out of it come Mother, Father and a boy (10ish) and a slightly older girl. They had called a few days earlier but turned up without saying anything. 

What made me look twice was that all four were immaculately dressed in riding clothes, shirt and tie, hacking jackets, jodhpurs, children had short boots and parents tall ones. The kids even carried a rising crop each. 

They wanted two horses and two ponies. We had some about the place and brought ponies in from the field and showed some of the horses. 

They had a very brief sit on just walking up and down the drive and then a short trot. They had obviously had a few lessons but non were riders. 

George was busy talking to them and I know the prices had gone up drastically for each animal. There was no bartering of any kind and full sets of tack, rugs for the horses were all fully paid for. 

They wanted the animals delivered to a place several miles away. George agreed for me and Bill to deliver them on the Sunday. 

Once they had gone I turned to George and told him they were con merchants and that the horses shouldn't be delivered until after he cheque had cleared. George was having non of it. 

Sunday morning Bill and I loaded the horses and set sail knowing the trip would take at least three hours. Arriving in the close proximity I pulled over and Bill asked a man for directions to Billingham Manor. The man looked a bit surprised but gave us directions. 

We found the Manor, a long drive up to a big Georgian Manor House which looked totally uninhabited. The place was tidy enough but looked a bit neglected, weeds growing on e steps to the front door and non of the planters planted. 

I drove around to the stables to find all four waiting, all dressed in their riding gear, 

Bill and I were highly suspicious. We unloaded the horses and went to put them in the stables. Not a blade of straw or hay in sight. I asked about this and the man tried to bluster me saying it was arriving later. 

Bill and I looked at each other and told them that it wasn't fair to have the two horses shut in a stable (they were clipped) and that we would take them back and return them when they had feed and bedding. 

The man got quite nasty about this and stood here arguing, his fists clenching and making threats. Didn't frighten me and certainly didn't scare Bill. We loaded up and drove away. At the bottom of the drive Bill had me stop, he jumped out the horsebox and climbed over the fence where the hedge was a bit sparse. I wondered what the heck he was doing ad then I saw a 'For Sale' sign raised in the air. 

We drove back through the village and pulled over on a narrow piece of road to let another horse box pass. The driver asked me if I knew where Billingham Manor was. Theynwere picking up four horses. I told them not to waste their time as there weren't any horses there. They turned around and went back from whence they came. 

Bill and I wanted to inform the police but George said not to. He wasn't happy we had brought the horses back.

The next morning George was at the bank as it opened and paid to have the cheque expressed. Of course it bounced, it hadn't been stopped just insufficient funds. 

A narrow escape.


----------



## Foxhunter

*been a while since I wrote anything! *

Back to Margaret and Guy days.

I was on my own when a road worker came down the drive to inform me that there was a goat loose on the road. This was early morning with rush hour traffic racing down the road. 

I went with him and found his work mate holding, not a goat but a Jacob sheep by the horns. 

I had the forethought to take a foal slip with me and managed to get that on the creature. 

Once the slip was on it was a matter of getting it to move. Only two paces, flat out or, lay down fast as if it had been shot. I was dragged behind it and when it lay down nearly fell over it several times. 

It took me nearly 45 minutes to get it to the drive and then another ten to get it into a stable. I knew nothing about sheep at all and after having to handle that one surprised I later bothered with them! 


Turns out he came from a place just up the road owned by an TV actor. When they came to collect the ewe it was all he could do tomsay thank you. I had always liked him but fame had certainly made him superior to other mortals like me.


----------



## Foxhunter

*Recalled two other incidents.*

This was before I was working at the stables. 

It was a Saturday, a filthy day with heavy rain and a blasting wind. We had finished for the day and were taking the horses out to the fields. Most were going to the furthest fields and I was riding Misty and leading Blaze. All the others, about ten of the, were being ridden, as per normal, bareback and in halters.

At the end of the track across the field, at the bus stop a young rider, a friend of my sister, was waiting for the bus which wasn't due for another forty minutes. I felt sorry for her and put her up on Blaze so we could all go home together. 

Margo was fine trotting and we were near,y at the fields when an old corrugated building the other side of the hedge was blown away. It went up in the air with the metal sheets crashing and separating from the rotten wood, just as we were level with it. 

Half the animals turned back and others just took off at a gallop. 

I was terrified of Margy falling off. As we went around a corner so Teixie came past us on the wrong side of the road. Thanks be that there wasn't a car coming. 

Blaze got onto the pavement and I couldn't pull him off. There was a lamp post coming up fast and I kicked Misty in the head so he veered over. It worked in that I was allso on the pavement but my right knee smashed against the lamppost. 

About six ponies were galloping flat out down through the village and along the main road. It didn't take long before we were coming to a steep hill with a sharp bend ahead. 

I knew I had to do something to stop them before we reached the bottom of the hill. I launched myself off Misty and onto Blaze's head. My right hand grabbing his nose pinching his air off. 

I think the shock of loosing his rider and Blaze slowing, made Misty stop as well as the fact that they had galloped a good mile into an area we never rode. They all stopped. 

I was shaking as we all stood there The young woman who was working at the stables had been followimg us in the old van and she was nearly hysterical. 

My legs were wobbly and I realised my knee hurt like crazy. 

We rode back to the fields, minus Margy and turned the ponies out. Some of the corrugated sheets had blown into the car park and made the ponies look but they didn't do anything untoward. 

We missed the bus and when Jill saw haw lame I was she insisted I dropped my jeans so she could look. I had a four inch gash across my knee which was rapidly swelling. She condescended to drive us home. I made her drop me off at my GPs as I knew I needed medical attention. 

Turns out I had broken my kneecap again.


----------



## Foxhunter

We had to cart water to several of the fields, this was done with the old cast iron milk churns. There were about five of these, heavy enough empty, even heavier when filled! One, which had developed a leak, had several inches of concrete in the bottom to seal it. 

We soon learned the art of rolling the churns and how two of us could swing them up into the back of the van. The problems arose at the fields where, in the winter the mud was deep and sticky.

Mr Trumble had driven out to meet Jane and I who had ridden out with a bunch of ponies. 

This field had the water tank behind the gate because if it was by the fence people dropped all sorts of rubbish into it. 

The ponies wandered off picking at the grass. It had been very wet and the mus was well over ankle deep. Then it had started to dry up so that mud was super boot pulling. More rain that day had filled the hoof holes with water so, it was boot pulling and sloppy.

Jane was lifting with her right hand which put her nearest to the gate. We had emptied a couple and were floundering through the mud with the extra heavy one. As Jane stepped so the mud grasped her boot. She stopped mid stride. I had hold of the churn handle with both hands to stop it sinking whilst Jane, one hand on the gate, tried to pull her boot out with the other. 

This worked but in doing this her other leg had sunk deeper and was now stuck. She took her weight on the gate trying to free her leg. Mr Trumble was at the hinge end said, "It's OK, I've got it." 

So he thought ! 

The fulcrum was more than he could resist (he was crippled with arthritis) and, oh so slowly, Jane moved her hands down the slats of the gate as it closed. She was face first in all the mud and water. 

We were both in hysterics, shrieking with laughter. Somehow Jane got herself out of the mud and we emptied the churn. 

Mr Trumble wasn't so amused. Even less so when we made him drive us home. There was no way Jane would have been allowed on the bus and darn uncomfortable for her to walk home.


----------



## Foxhunter

Not long after I had started working for my last boss, he had some friends come for the day. One of the couples was a very renowned member of the government when Margaret Thatcher was PM. 

They arrived separate,y and much to my surprise they immediately let their very elderly Cocker Spaniel out the car. No asking, they just let him out. 

He was blind, he was deaf and he was a gentleman. He sniffed his way into the barn and Pye, my BC immediately gave him the death stare to stop him going any further. For once it didn't work and the old dog bumped into her. He was the sort of dog that immediately apologised saying, "Terribly sorry, my dear, the eyes aren't as good as they once were!" 

Pye tried this twice more before giving up. 

He bumbled about the place enjoying the smells until the Boss and others came out the house to go see the horses out in the fields. We went into the field behind the stables where the bottle lambs I had reared were turned out. Of course the lambs came running over and I had to be quick to move away so they came to me and not send the old dog flying. 

The three men walked ahead and went out the gate onto the road. They crossed over. The dog, nose followimg their scent went to cross the road when there was a car coming. Again, I ran, with lambs followimg, to grab him before he wandered into the road. 

We crossed over to go to the other fields. I did suggest that they put a halter rope on the old dog but was told he would be fine and not chase the horses. 

I wasn't worried about him chasing the horses but the horses chasing him because I had a two year old that disliked dogs. 

Sure enough the old dog wandered well into the paddock and Muldoon, on spotting him immediately went after him with his ears flat back and thumping his feet into the ground meaning business.

Again I had to run (I have never done running) yelling and chase him off. I picked up the dog and carried him to the ride between the paddocks. I put a lead rope on him and handed it to the wife telling her to keep hold of him before he got himself killed. 

How that dog had survived seventeen years I have never fathomed out!


----------



## ChieTheRider

Accidental post. 

I do love your stories though.


----------



## Foxhunter

Night time adventures. 

Where I was living we were in the arm pit of hills, very few dwellings about the place. 

One evening I had just finished eating when there was a knocking on the door. Friends never knocked, they would open the door and call out. 

There was a rather dishevelled man stood there. He looked very scruffy and miserable. He and his family had rented a holiday cottage The other side of the hill and had gon for a walk. It had got dark and they were well and truly lost.

He had left his family, wife amd three young children, to find help, seen my lights and found civilisation again! He hadn't a clue where he had left the family, that was the thing. 

I took the ATV and went out looking, luckily they weren't far away and I piled them in the trolley at the back and got them to the yards. They were all stung, scratched and bleeding. The children were frightened and crying. The mother was pretty much the same. 

I bundled them into my car and took them back to the cottage. They hadn't a clue about the countryside. 

Another time I had finished when I heard someone calling out. There was a man holding onto a horse, the pair looking very weary. 

They had been hunting and had been following one of the Whips who had jumped a stile and his mare had refused to do so. It was near dark when this had happened and as he was in unknown country it had taken him a while to get to the stables. 

I took his mare and put her in a stable, untacking her. Took the man indoors, gave him a whisky and a coffee. Went out and bathed the mare, threw some rugs on her. 

Meantime he had called the stables he kept her at, the woman was out with the horsebox looking for him. Someone had to go in a car and find her! 
When she arrived she was surprised to see a clean horse, we swapped rugs and off they went, the man thanking me profusely. He seemed very grateful but never put his hand in his pocket! 

It was about a week later when I had a parcel arrive. It was that year's publication of Bailey's Hunting and inside a £20 with a lovely letter thanking me and him explaining he hadn't any money on him when I helped him out. 

A real gentleman.


----------



## Foxhunter

(Mary's)

When you are working in an area where there are several race trainers, there are always going to be loose horses! 

Where Mary was situated, a small village, there were four race trainers, these were all jump trainers. 

There was a primary school in the centre of the village. One morning, the children were all playing outside at break time, a horse, having dropped its rider somewhere, was never going to make it around the corner on the road so went straight into the school playground and proceeded to give a display of bucking and kicking. 

Teachers were screaming at the children to run inside, one of the worse things they could do. 

I out hollered them and ordered the children to stand with their backs against the wall or fence and stand still. Most did but several ran for the school.

Someone with me held my horse and I went to catch the runaway. He was hyped up and thought he could just barge through me, a hard jerk on the reins and he realised his private party was over. 

I think that when you have a primary school and the children are outside playing, the high pitched screams as they run around, hype most horses up until they are use to it. 

Another time I was riding a just broken filly and she freaked as the children ran out the school into the playground. She jumped sideways and somehow we ended up in the church graveyard. 

That was a funny filly, she was a sweetie to do anything with but some things freaked her out. Out with others one day, another white grey was coming towards us and it freaked her out. She stopped, tense and ready to turn and run. I could hear her heart beating. The others surrounded me and she watched fearfully as the other horse went past. 

Funny thing was hat she was a grey herself! 

Helen and I were riding out past the village school. We were riding two seasoned horses and leading two youngsters. The filly I was leading suddenly whipped around, I dropped her and she took off going between Helen and the filly she was leading. Both youngsters took off at a gallop. 

Luckily they went into a field and by e time we reached them they had both rolled, stuffed as much grass into their mouths as they could and we had fun catching them!


----------



## Foxhunter

When I first went to work for my last boss he had a brood mare and her first colt at home. That years foal was at the stud having been weaned there. 

We went to collect the colt, a lovely looking bay. He was by a jump stallion, Idiots Delight, and, as the Boss named his horses after herbs and spices he was named Mad Thyme. 

We had another weaver to run with this foal belonging to a friend of the Boss. 

I soon began calling amad Thyme Charlie. 

I began to show Charlie and a couple of the other youngsters. It did them good to get use to travelling and seeing all sorts of things. We did fairly well and came home with many ribbons. 

By the time Charlie was a yearling I had him running with his brother and another two year old, Tommy, the other colt having returned to his owner. 

One evening I was walking upmthe ride between the paddocks to check them all and thought I saw Charlie crib on the rails. I stopped and observed but he didn't do it again. Next morning he was cribbing like a pro, I couldn't believe it. I had an anti cribbing collar but it did no good. 
It was all he seemed to do. 

I tried everything to get him to stop, to no avail. When I did manage to stop him doing it on anything he used his own knee so, I gave up and let him get on with it. He never had colic, never looked in poor condition and was happier. 

As a yearling he had a bone cyst removed. As an early three year old he had done something to his back out in the field. He wasn't lame or even stiff but did have prominent vertebrae over his loins. The chiropractor couldn't define what it was and pummelling and prodding never made him flinch. 

I started to break him as a late three year old. He loved the work, took to it all like a duck takes to water. It was actually riding him that caused me great concern. 

I was t expecting any problems, he was so compliant, but, when I was actually on him he became as tense as could be, his head was twisted to the right and he was locked onto the bit. I had the feeling that he just wanted to just take off. I had a very experienced friend, a lot lighter than me, come ride him in the arena and he was the same with her. 

The vet could find nothing wrong, X rays showed nothing. Boss wanted to send him into training but I wanted to get to the bottom of the problem first. 

At this point we were moving to Dorset and Charlie came with us rather than go into training. Living next door was an Australian vet, Nick, we weren't going to use him as, being neighbour's, if there was a fall out it could be awkward. 

Nick liked to ride so often rode out with us. One day I rode Charlie and he was on something else. He could see the problem and asked Boss if he could treat him. It was agreed. 
That evening he injected all along the spine and told me to ride him out the next day and to keep him on level ground and just walk. (That was hard as there were nothing but hills all around us) I set off as and, as usual, Charlie stuck his head to the side and was tense as a tight wire. We hadn't gone far down the road whenhe suddenly asked to lower his head. I let the reins slip through my fingers and he was walking with a much longer stride, head nearly on the road. When he did bring his head up he was soft and straight. I really couldn't believe the total change. 

He continued this was for about three weeks and as I was trotting him up a hill he suddenly reverted to his old self. Boss was with me and he could see the change. 

Nick came again and injected him. it wasn't a drug he was using, I think it was just saline. Next day he was again easy going. This held for a good month so he was sent into training. 

I spoke to the trainer and the Head Lad explaining that should Charlie revert to holding his head to one side and being tense, to call and Nick would go and inject. There was nothing that would be detrimental in any drug test. 

Charlie was racing over hurdles and won his first two races. He was then entered for a fairly high class Novice Hurdle at Newbury. Boss went to watch I saw it on TV. The moment I saw Charlie leave the paddock I knew he was wrong. His head was to one side and you could see the jockey trying to get it straight. 

Charlie jumped well and settled in the middle of the bunch and as they turned into the home straight the jockey opened up and he soon jumped to the front over the last three hurdles. Well ahead from the last they raced to the line, I could see the jockey trying to get his head straight. About 100 yards before the line Charlie dropped the hit and the jockey went out the side door. 

When the Boss got home he was furious. I was mad at him for not seeing how Charlie was 'wrong' and even more furious that the trainer had ignored what he had been told. A couple of lads at the yard said Charlie had been like it for about three weeks. 

I disliked that trainer, in my eyes he wasn't much good. He did have some very wealthy owners but most of it was the old schoolboy/army contacts. 

Charlie came home for the summer and did well out at grass. He had looked a bit light when he returned but soon put the weight on. 

The following season he went back into training. Trainer had learned his lesson and, when the horse started being tense and cocking his head, we were told and Nick went to treat him. 

When Nick returned he was not at all pleased. Charlie was shut up in an internal stable which was very small, the horse in the stable next to him was a box walker so was kept tied all the time. 

Boss immediately said he wanted the horse moved and as he had three or four horses in training there, his wishes were carried out. 

Charlie didn't run particularly well over fences, he was placed but only won one race. Whe he returned he looked awful He was so thin and tucked up. I pointed this out to the Boss and was told it was because he was racing fit. I pointed back and said racing fit didn't mean a bag of bones and little muscle. 

I did all I could to get Boss to send Charlie somewhere else but he was to loyal. 

The following season Charlie was in a jump race and fell. He broke his neck so that was the end of him. A great shame as with the right trainer he could have been a top class horse.


----------



## Knave

That story made me sad. Some people just suck. That's all there is to it.


----------



## RegalCharm

I am reading your journal and I found story about the girl with the braces very touching. And you being allergic to school LOL...The way you tell the stories makes one feel like they are right there with you.


I hope you are well and Have a great Friday.


----------



## Dragoon

I was thinking of you, Foxhunter, yesterday while mucking out the stables. The world has gone crazy with the pandemic, and I was musing about how many older people are at risk on the planet. If anything ever happened to Linda, I would cry my eyes out!!
And I am some random girl in Canada who will never meet her...but want to somehow tell her how I feel!

I don't think she realizes how precious her stories are. She may think, eh, it's just life, but it's more than interesting, it's a glimpse of another era, and for some, another country. And valuable lessons about the animals. I'm starting to see our domestic horses as over fed, under worked and over dressed and suffering for it. Just being kept wrong for their physiology....

I do hope you find an aspiring writer to help you organize your stories into book form!
Take care! <3


----------



## Foxhunter

Dragoon, now I am blushing! 

As the saying goes, so far so good! Touch wood. LOL

I am being careful, but as a fatalist, what is to be will be. I am taking a daily dose of herbs which boost the immune system. Not the most pleasant of things but I down them every morning. I am now getting use to the taste. 

If the worse comes to the worse I do not want anyone to cry for me nor mourn me, I want everyone to have a good laugh and raise a glass or three and know that regardless I enjoyed my life!


----------



## RegalCharm

@Foxhunter I am still reading your Journal about half way through it. Your stories are amazing. They just seem to transport you to that time and place. Would make a good movie. 

I am about half way through reading the stories and each one is a special look at your life as you grew up. 

And what a wonderful request about what to do when your time comes. Not to cry or mourn, but to celebrate your life and be happy you lived your dream of being with horses. But there will be tears and feelings of loss of the person that many have been given a window into your life with your gift to put into words your story.


----------



## Foxhunter

I don't know what reminded me of this one.

I used a dealer on the mainland for finding horses and ponies for clients. He wasn't to farmacross the water and had some nice animals come over from Ireland. 

I had gone over to pick up two ponies and Ian had a load from Ireland arrive. He wanted to try the horses and asked if I would be interested in any.

They wasn't anything really special like potential show jumpers but there were two rather plain and poor horses I would be interested in. We put some tack on them both and mounted up. The horse I was riding was, to put it lightly, a bit jumpy, his was much the same but not as bad. By the time we rode out the gate onto the road we both came to the conclusion that probably neither had been ridden before. 

We mad our way up the road at a trot, his horse would be in front and stop dead, I would trot past and then mine would stop. Both of us were laughing which didn't help matters. 

Turned off the road onto a track, imwasmin front at this pint and my horse was trotting well, ears *****ed and willing. I asked him tomcanter and we lurched forward, cantered about 200 yards where the track turned at a right angle. The horse wasn't balanced enough to turn and just jumped the hedge in front of hiim. Ian's horse just stopped. I had to turn around and jump the hedge back again which he did with no hesitation. 

The rest of the ride was the stop go method. I ended up purchasing my ride and another pony that had been ridden. 

Sold both within two weeks,


----------

