Trentpark's Blog

Dressage – A Whole New World

trentpark — Mon, 07 Feb 2011 11:28:18 +0000

Dressage , as defined by the disctionary, is’ a path and destination of competitive horse training. It’s fundamental purpose is to develop, through standardized progressive training methods, a horse’s natural athletic ability and willingness to perform, thereby maximizing its potential as a riding horse’.

Dating back to the Renaissance period in Europe,most people will think of it as Horse Ballet. I think of it as a whole new reason to shop for horse gear. Saddles aside, there are a plethora of training aids, and show stuff that will keep Ingatestone Saddlery Centre in profit for years to come.

Aside from the draw reins, saddlepads and browbrands, I have to admit to being previously underwhelmed by Dressage. Compared to the thrill and adrenalin of jumping (mainly my adrenalin being derived from the uncertainty of staying on post jump), Dressage always seemed a litlte bit boring in comparison, even though I have always liked the rider’s outfits.

After my last unplanned dismount whilst jumping, the flatwork sort of morphed into a leaning towards dressage. I am fabulously fortunate to have a pony that will do most things (including the dismantling of most dustbins he comes across), so this would always have been possible, were it not for my lack of learning and talent.

Now, my eyes have been opened and I am loving it. In fact, I am slightly obsessed by it, watching hours of the stuff on Horse and Country TV. Gillie and I may never be able to do the complicated bits, but cantering a 15m circle in the right rhythm and balance is good enough for me. I have simple aspirations, as many of my friends will know, but I have set a goal to reach 50% in an external dressage test, by the end of 2011. The preparation is under way – I am currently at the ‘all the gear, no idea’ stage, but I have strong hopes for our first outing at the end of February. Assuming this is, that I manage stay inside the white boards, whilst not cantering over them in an uncontrolled fashion. I am also hoping to avoid spooking into the middle of the arena whilst muttering obscenities. I am hoping to stay mounted and calm and avoid kicking in a pony club stylee to get into canter. The other pitfall is slipping off Gillie mid canter due to the amount of show shine he shall be sporting.

The other major problem I fear is actually remembering the test. I have watched countless videos on Youtube of novice riders performing Prelim 4 or 13, and they all seem to know where they are going and what they are supposed to be doing. How do they do this? They must clearly be superhuman. I can just about master knowing which rein I am on. I am considering recording the test and playing it back through secret earphones, but I have yet to find any that will match mine and Gillie’s black bling.

Among the Orchard (and Back Yard) liveries,the dressage heat is on for the mother of all battles on 19th March. In what I am sure will become an annual event, the fight for dressage queen is underway. If anyone else wants to join in, please see the posters in the Trent Park office, but be prepared for all sorts of bling, competition tactics, collected canter, and undoubtedly some sort of unusual headwear for Benjamini.

Round up of 2010

trentpark — Wed, 15 Dec 2010 16:37:51 +0000

The Trent Park Round up of 2010

In keeping with the time of year, I thought it would be good to write up the TPEC highs and lows, and achievements of 2010. Please do feel free to add your highs and lows.

The thing I will remember the most

Handy Pony in the Client Show in May. Although I was robbed of victory by Doriel and Matt’s harsh judging proceedure. I mean, I should have had points added on for being able to mount from the ground at my age!

The thing I would most like to forget

Harolds Park Farm – 21st November 2010

The person/people missed most

Vicky and Lauren Ted, who left for a new life at Old Brickyard Farm.

Best recovery of the year

Benjamini

Achievement of the year

Jo Gubb winning at HOYS after only entering the showing competition a few months prior to the HOYS final. Jo and Zeddy make such an incredible partnership, and it was a day not to be forgotten.

Escape of the year

A close call between Benjamina, Espresso (on a regular basis) and Gillie (also on a regular basis). Other contenders include Gizmo and Smokey. All win the ‘Horse Houdini’ Trent Park prize, for which the gift is a double bolted door.

Funniest comment of the year

‘I’m terrified’. Uttered by Sam Williams throughout most of the summer whilst riding Early Man

Most hilarious sight of the year

The Shetland Grand National at this year’s Supercrew Gala. Truly brilliant viewing

Hardest decision to make

Judging the fancy dress parades in the Supercrew Xmas gala -all round unbelievable effort, especially the last group!

Best unveiling of the year

The new outdoor schools and cross country fields. For anyone that hasn’t yet seen them, they are incredible. Thank you Sue and Chris!

Words heard most often in and around Trent Park in 2010…


… I love you Gillie

Merry Xmas, and a very Happy and Healthy New Year to everyone, and safe riding in 2011

The importance of a good trainer

trentpark — Mon, 15 Nov 2010 21:02:10 +0000

The importance of a good trainer

It has to be said that I wasn’t always the best pupil in my school years. Too rebellious, too loud, and too difficult to manage for most of my teachers I fear. School reports were hidden, most unsucesfully and I still recall the dreaded fear of parents evenings. A few years ago, I was out shopping with my mum, who has just about recovered from the shame of my teenage behaviour, when we bumped into my History teacher from circa. 1980. She seemed to have coped well, despite the trauma of teaching me on a virtually daily basis, and I felt it appropriate to apologise as a then late 30-something, whils spouting dates of historical major world events, in an attempt to show some of her teaching hadn’t passed me b

I think this early behaviour has made me see the value, in life, of well meant and empathetic teaching and guidance. Rather than rebel against someone who clearly knows far more than I do, I have learnt to appreciate the wisdom of learning from experts in their field. Which brings me to the bit about riding.

I am in absolute awe at those that (quite literally) take our lives in their hands. Whilst learning about the merits of brand marketing or how to calculate the cost of a TV ad are worthy in their own right, they are not going to save your life whilst you are perched precariously on top of a one ton beast.

The beauty of learning as an adult is that you can pick the type of different teaching style that suits you. Some may opt for the firmer approach. As a paid-up member of the Wimps Brigade, I am blessed to have found a trainer who is both firm when needed, but totally calming, and supportive, combined with a genuine desire to help me learn. The skills required in a riding instructor or trainer are equally, if not harder, to acquire than those in any other teaching profession. Physical and mentral strength are needed – I confess to pushing my wonderful friend and trainer Val, to her limits on more than one occasion.

Another benefit, is that maturity gives way to a desire to learn, rather than push against it. It never fails to amaze me how much a difference good training makes to our lives.Obviously we all know the benefits of a good education, that goes without saying. But having your trainer commend you on a good performance, or working tireleslely to perfect a maneouvre and have it pay off, derives an enormous sense of satisfaction.

I have often wondered what makes the difference between a good trainer, and an exceptional trainer. At this point, please feel free to disagree, but I think it comes down to one thing – Passion. Most of my day job centres around training – basically teaching people how to do digital stuff for their businesses. I clearly dont do the training myself, as this would result in the company’s downfall with almost immediate effect. My CEO, who founded the company, carries out a large part of the training, and he inspires confidence and interest in people he has never met before, without exception. He has passion for what he does, and it shows.

The amercian author, William Arthur Ward said many years ago, that ” The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires”.This is particularly applicable to Val, our long suffering trainer. I have lost count of the number of times I have sat quivering before a course of 2 ft jumps, and yet somehow I always get round, and sometimes I even enjoy it! I have been inspired to do things with Gillie that I would never have thought possible, but for the patience and understanding of many hours spent listening to her wise words. We are incredibly fortunate at Trent Park to have many fantastic trainers, all of whom work tirelessely to guide people like me, to safety, and ensuring we have fun along the way.

So, with a public apology to all those who suffered to instill some education in me, and to all those who are committed to training us in the art of leg yielding and perfect transitions, I would like to say thank you. What often seems like a hopeless task is not taken for granted, and is very much appreciated!.

Confessions of an equine shopaholic

trentpark — Wed, 03 Nov 2010 16:47:00 +0000

It is a fact that horse obsessed people have been around for centuries and it has long been an assertion that these people are ill. In the middle ages, communities actually removed people who were horse obsessed and sent them into isolation. The condition was then known as “Amo-Caballus”, roughly translated as horse-lover.

As I frantically searched through my wardrobe last weekend, for something that didn’t resemble jodphurs, breeches or fleeces to wear, I realised that I am indeed, a fully fledged member of the ‘Amo-Cabaulls’ gang. If you have cupboards, or garden sheds stacked with rugs, but a wardrobe lacking wearable outfits bought prior to 2005, then you are not alone.

Long gone are the days of browsing the latest pair of boots, handbags or leather jacket. Now I am lucky to find a pair of jeans without pine tar stains, or a dress or jumper that has not been worn to death since its purchase in 2007 (Life before Gillie date).

For some reason though, my horse is equipped to within an inch of his life. I find myself, if not happy, then resigned to spend equal amounts on a turnout rug as I would on a new dress. Frankly, if all else fails, I shall soon be seen modelling aforementioned rug when out and about this winter.

I think, therefore, I can be officially classed as an equine shopaholic. Whilst my friends will have realised this long before I, I can now be open and proud about my need to purchase all things equine, big or small.

I had fully expected my syptoms to reside gradually post Gillie purchase. Obviously the high and adrenaline of your first horse purchase sees you rushing to your nearest horse stockist to kit the said beast out in all form of matching colours and tack. Some of my earliest purchases make me slightly ashamed – I call this my Katie Price phase – but thankfully I am becoming less bling obsessed. The need to purchase however, has not.

I used to spend days wandering about Brent Cross and Marylebone High Street. Now, I get far more excited when making the trip to Ingatestone, whilst College Farm have my mobile number on their speed-dial and see me with greater frequency than my oldest friends.

The thrill of a new rug in its packaging still exists for me. As my boy is a permanent rug trasher, I am perpetually forking out for all types, sizes, and weights of rugs so can be classed as somewhat of an expert in this field (no pun intended).

I would happily spend more on a bottle of show shine, liberally applied at all times, than I would on a hair mask or make-up product. That said, Gillie’s mane and tail smell and look far nicer than mine on most occasions.

Don’t even get me started on tack. I crave Albion saddles in the way I used to look at Vivienne Westwood.I would far prefer a horsebox than a ferrari, not that either is likely to come my way, but a girl can dream.

Going out on dates becomes even more pressured. Along with the usual trauma of where to go and what to say, I now have the additional dilemma of what to wear. Pink Hunter wellies have not been known to drive men wild with desire (unless they are complete weirdo’s in which case I am not looking to tempt them into horsebox puchasing anyway).

Horse events are pure torture for me, and I am now barred from wandering unattended through Olympia or HOYS. In my second year of obsession, I was unwisely left to peruse the Brogini stall at Olympia on my own. Never again. I am simply not to be trusted. I have the willpower of an Iron Woman when it comes to my professional life, and even my personal life to some degree. But leave me in a tack shop and I turn into an excited, quivering wreck witht the same will that Zsa Zsa Gabor and Elizabeth Taylor applied to marriage proposals.

I know of little cure for this, and I derive great comfort in fellow sufferers (Orchard friends, you know who you are). But whilst it lasts, and whilst Gillie is beautifully accessorised in black and burgundy, I shall happily continue as one of the Trent Park “Amo-Caballus” group.

Jumping – its not as easy as it looks

trentpark — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 15:18:52 +0000

One of my earliest childhood memories is sitting down with my mum to watch Show Jumping events on TV. From Hickstead, to Horse of the Year Show, to Olympia, I used to be kept spellbound by the abilities and bravery of both rider and horse as they leapt over fences bigger than me with ease, style and elegance. I always dreamt of being the next Marion Mould with Stroller (for those old enough to remember), and being able to do that incredible lap of honour. The theme tune to all UK horse events still brings back incredible memories.

All grown up and with a Stroller of my own, I have recently become a convert to this whole jumping business. Let me state for the record, that leaving the ground whilst mounted on a 1 ton animal is (and I use the words of my fabulous friend Sam) ‘terrifying’. I have the utmost respect for anyone who takes part in this ridiculous exercise and feels no fear or the likelihood of impending doom and injury. Body protectors are all well and good, but having one’s front teeth knocked out costs loads of money and is not an attractive look on anyone over the age of 10.

Often, I watch people jumping in the School and marvel at their compsure and technique. This is especially true of Jo Gubb and her wonder horse Zed, who seem to sail over these ridiculously, stupidly high fences with the same calm and controlled manner as you would apply to a shopping trip or bus journey to work. Hypervenilation and the use of bad language never seem to enter into the whole proceedure.

It is only due to the wonderfully patient and talented Val that I ever leave the ground at all. If the truth be known, I hold greater fear of her rebuke than I do of landing head first into a pole.

So, here are my thoughts, fears, and tips for surviving relatively unscathed.

Always start small. Not the advice that necessarily applies to all walks of life, but there’s a lot to be said for raised canter poles.
Hands up, look up, heels down. After 3 years of lessons, this will eventually become second nature
Always look to your next jump. Try to avoid whooping and cheering after a 1 foot crosspole and completely ignoring the approaching spread which you then catleap over due to being totally unprepared
Without exception, shout ‘jumping’ at the top of your voice to alert all around you to the fact, even if jumping in a deserted school. Frankly, it just sounds good
Dont take a calculator into an arena to work out striding. This will only help to undermine a lack of riding and mathematical ability. Just discount 2 strides for landing and 2 for take-off. Simples
Always check what your trainer is doing when you are cantering out of sight. It is highly likely that they will be putting the jump up in the vain hope that by the time you notice it, it will be too late to back out
Keep an eye on landing -particularly for small ponies that may be in your landing path
If it all gets too much (especially when jumping cross country), closing your eyes may help. This is especially true when galloping towards jumps at speed- it stops the wind getting into your eyes and smudging your eyeliner
Wear a body protector that doesnt feel like an Agent Provocateur bodice. Leave some room for the ability to breathe
Remember to tighten your girth. Those people at Olympia that swing round the equine belly whilst galloping have practiced for years – it’s not a natural art, and nobody wants to be that close to jump wings or fillers.
Cling on, if all else fails. That’s what buckless and pommels were invented for

But mainly, just enjoy the adrenaline rush. All of the above is really quite elementary, and there is genuinely no better rush than flying through the air with your equine partner, and landing safely. Whether its a pole 6 inches off the ground, or a 4 foot Oxer, it is one of the most exciting feelings in the world. Whilst I have yet to experience Niagara Falls, or Hot Air Ballooning across the African Plains, I can honestly say that my summer of jumping this year has made me feel more alive than any tourist excursion or football match has done in the past.

And if you still don’t believe me, then look at some of these photos from the Trent Park Summer Client Show. The smiles say it all.

Horses are Therapy

trentpark — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 20:12:42 +0000

Benjamin Disraeli once said that ‘a canter is a cure for every evil’. Whilst talking to my lovely friend Kate recently, she vocalised what we all know to be true. That our horses, and our love of all things horse related, is the best cure for any kind of depression, argument, bad day, bad hair day or even PMT.

The development of man’s relationship with horses was clearly not always based in such emotion. For centuries before us, it was rooted in far more practical matters. Whilst dogs have always been touted as man’s best friend, horses were seen as essential work collateral. They got you or your goods from A to B. Long before the invention of fleeces, martingales, bling browbands and Lyn Russell products, they were there to do a job from birth until death.

In many cultures, this is still the case – and thank goodness for the amazing work of horse and donkey charities around the world that do their best to negate harmful practices which sadly still go on.

Interestingly, horses are increasingly being seen as an aide to physical and emotional rehabilitation. The well publicised example of Rowan Isaacson, a young boy who suffered with significant autism and who made incredible improvements after spending time with horses in Mongolia comes to mind (the book entitled The Horse Boy, is well worth reading). The physical rewards that horses offer to those who are disabled is perfectly demonstrated in the fantastic work that the RDA conduct throughout the UK on an ongoing basis.

You can find hundreds of stories just flicking through horse magazines. People who have had horrific accidents, or suffered emotionally find the greatest, and the simplest of pleasures from being around horses. The healing power that horses bring is quite incredible and should never be underestimated.

Thankfully, those closest to me in the horse world look for far less significant relief from our equine friends. When I see my horse’s head poke over the stable door in anticipation of whichever treat I may have, it banishes the stress of everyday life. Even tonight, I dared to run the gauntlet of the North Circular in rush hour, just to see my horse grazing in the field in the evening sunshine.

Horses change our lives. They do it on a daily basis, by just making our lives better. They offer the peace and escape that is frankly far better than any Champneys weekend break (but without the slippers that you get to take home with you). They let you be you and don’t ask for anything in return, except for the odd herby treat. And M&S organic pears in Gillie’s case.

They will never judge you or hold a grudge, and they will trust you in a way that humans just can’t, or won’t. Horses will treat you as you treat them, a truly theraputic quality.

I shall end with the words of Pam Brown ,which sum this up far more articulately and intelligently than I ever could. “A horse is the projection of peoples’ dreams about themselves – strong, powerful, beautiful – and it has the capability of giving us escape from our mundane existence”. Long may it continue.

Zed’s Story

trentpark — Mon, 02 Aug 2010 15:27:36 +0000

It was October 2006, 6 weeks after I had my second son Archie by C-Section that I went up to ride my horse. Within 10 minutes I had hit the floor & was in agony. After driving home in floods of tears, my husband Jamie had said enough was enough and I was to think of my children. I agreed that an injured mummy was no good but the thought of not riding was torture. We both came to the decision that I would find a horse that was talented but without the “quirks”! I rung my good friend Kim up who had a yard full of amazing horses and she suggested Zinidan, stable name Zed. I knew I would never be able to afford him but she suggested going to try him, which I did and so the story begins.

I arranged to jump Zed at a show as it was a test for me & Zed because usually prior to jumping I would be sick with nerves & shaking with fear. After galloping round a pairs class with Emma Jo & coming 3^rd, the realisation set in, I actually loved every minute of it & came home smiling. All I had to do now was convince my husband Jamie. The answer was NO!

Devastated I rung Kim who totally understood and said she would look out for something else. It was approaching Xmas so I had decided to wait until after to continue my search for my star. It was when I was at Wembley the former home of HOYS, watching CBeebies Live with my children that Kim rung. “I know what you’ve got for Xmas” she said, “really” I replied, “how”? The next sentence would have me screaming and embarrassing my kids forever.

“Jamie has just bought you Zed”………

Zed is my horse of a lifetime & in so many ways my best friend too. I have competed him at shows I only ever watched my friends competing at. I go to a show excited, not sick with nerves, because Zed looks after me! From the minute I load to the second I finish my class, he has given it his all. I have drag hunted him, showjumped, shown & it has been an amazing 3 year journey. On days I have had little or no sleep with a 6, 3 & 1yr old all taking up my energy, it’s a simple hack with Zed, even a quick pop up to say hello and some polos that makes me feel a thousand times better and ready to tackle the bedtime routine. No person can ever give me that willingly without hesitation.

It was the final walk round at Wellington, SEIB Riding club show horse class that I qualified. I was just so pleased on how the class had gone, I was walking around in my own world when I heard the words “the lady on the chestnut”. I was really pleased and gave him a huge pat as I thought I had been pulled in 4^th, it was the moment when I realised that we had in fact won that I will never ever forget. I just burst into tears & haven’t really stopped since, even the photographer & stewards welled up! The thing is, I’m a mum of 3 from a non-horsey background who lives in North London who does “this” for fun, to ride at HOYS has always been a dream but one I thought I would never fulfil & I will never be able to thank Zed enough.

I always knew he was a star but to have it acknowledged by winning the qualifier was amazing.

None of this would have been possible without Jamie for buying him, my parents for childcare, Lee my showing guru, Nicola who rides zed if I run out of time & Kerry for looking after him as if he’s her own.

I can’t wait for the final & to see my friends & family in the stands cheering me on and I plan to enjoy & savour every moment as this is truly a lifetime ambition.

Thanks again to SEIB for sponsoring such an amazing series that actually gives true amateurs a stage to shine.

Please all vote for me on the horse of the year show website at http://www.hoys.co.uk/blog/index.php/2010/08/02/jamie-has-just-bought-you-zed

If Horses Could Speak

trentpark — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 09:31:17 +0000

Recently, I read an article which stated that horses don’t understand English. To be honest, I found this most disturbing. This now means that Gillie cannot understand the words: ” I love you” repeated over and over again. Horses can, however, understand tone of voice and intonation. Which is a good thing, as I can now alter my tone whilst saying ‘I love you’ over and over again, and he may have a clearer idea of the message I am trying to send.

I am fascinated by the way in which horses communicate with each other, and am one of the many who long to know what their horse is thinking. Experts will tell overbearing horse owners not to humanise their horses and transpose our human feelings, emotions and thoughts onto our beloved four legged friends. How is this possible? Surely Gillie feels joy when I arrive upon the yard, despair when I leave and contentment and peace in between?

I know of many who have worked with experts in the field to try and understand how their horses are feeling, and what they are feeling, with varying degrees of success. I am a firm believer in this method, and I am of the personal opinion, that getting close to your horse requires a combination of time, patience, understanding, empathy, an open mind and a a weekly supply of Uncle Jimmy’s Hanging Balls.

Horses are the best listeners in the world, but how can we listen to them to really understand?

I then started thinking of all the things that horses may want to say, if they could actually communicate in English:

Gillie

Stop embarrassing me, I know you love me, but it’s so uncool in front of my friends
Stop bathing me, twice a year is more than sufficient
Enough with the show shine, I can be seen from the moon
Oh no, it’s you again
Please let the other nice lady ride me all the time
I dont like that mask you put on my head in the summer when I go in the field, it scares my lady friends away
I like tootling around in dustbins, just let me
‘Got you again’- this would normally be spoken as he escapes out of his box, rugs flapping behind him to the muck heap
I can run faster than you think
You know I’m in charge, just accept it
That fence really isnt going to stop me if I want to get over it
I like that golf place, can I run there again one day?

Ben

Thank goodness that other bay horse across the yard has gone – yippee!
I like squealing when I’m excited

Espresso

You know I can move faster than you through a very small space, just try me!

Martini

I am the prettiest girl in the field and can run faster than anyone else, and I have the videos to prove it

Dougal

I can run like the wind given half the chance. But most often, I like to retire to my room in peace and quiet

Ted

I want my mummy (when not well).
Seriously, supermarket trollies are the Scariest Things in The World

Zed

Look at me, I’m going to be at Horse of the Year show!

Fen

Sometimes those fences you make me leap over can be really scary, but I love my pink accessories, they are so my colour C

Cheesy

Green is the new black

Perhaps after all, it is better that we don’t know what our horses are thinking, and that ignorance is bliss. I shall leave you with the thought that a good rider can hear their horse speak to them, a great rider can hear their horse whisper, but a bad rider wont hear their horse, even if it screams at them,

Tori Stories

trentpark — Mon, 12 Jul 2010 16:28:35 +0000

By Martina Dawson

7th July 2010

Recently Feeder’s arriving has been patchy; apparently I have competition for her attentions from several Race Ponies from below the river. Oh and Anteater, but he was already a challenge before these stick legged beasts entered the equation.

But the other day she turned up with tack strapped across her. I think she’s been playing that “Red Dead Redemption” game that Ben and Tonto were talking about. From what I gather it’s a cowboy game that in Tonto’s own words “has some fine looking fillies” in it. You know what he’s talking about. I think he’s just over compensating for being a gelding; us mares, with our entirity are far superior over males and feeders. We just play it down because we’re such nice beings. Anyway, Feeder turns up, tacked to the eyeballs and we start our usual routine again.

Yesterday we went for a meander about the woods after a quick run about in the outdoor School. Whenever she runs off Feeder seems to come back thinking that I don’t remember a thing; so of course we absolutely must play around and check all the “buttons” work. I actually get quite offended by that; I am not a TV remote, I have no buttons, although when I am lacking energy you might want to push harder rather than find new batteries. By that I mean get off my back and use your own legs. Feeder is nice to me in the woods, although I think it might scare the staff a little; she walks me back in, letting my back muscles unwind without her on them. It’s also funner to have someone to talk to who’s at your height and can flick away flies. Feeder crushed one on my neck today, I know this because I could hear every bone in it crunch under the top of her whip. I’m glad horses can’t vomit, I know I would have then. The flies are a real pain; I’ll just be standing there, minding my own business when Mr. McFly wanders up and tries to get a drink on the house. It’s not fair; I don’t buzz about sipping peoples drinks at parties, why should the flies? Is it because they have wings? I can grow wings! Actually, maybe not, but you get the point. Or do you? Moving on, the flies are annoying. That’s not moving on is it? Moving along with the same theme, the flies are really annoying, just like when Feeder insists on putting sudo-creme on the little rubs on my face. There. Moved on. Anyway, she’s been faffing around with tack recently because lo and behold the Grackle went missing. I wonder who orchestrated that? What? It wasn’t me, honest. I’m a horse. I can’t hide my Gracke. Not that I want to claim it in the slightest. She’s been riding me without a numnah too; but I think that’s just so she can see the fit of the saddle better, which I don’t mind seeing as the new lump of cowskin with a belt-strap actually fits me nicely. I’m glad I kicked up a fuss, it forced Feeder to get a good saddle for me. I might have to try that elsewhere. Unfortunately it’s not working with the mounting block; a rethink of strategies it is time for methinks.

Today went pretty much the same as yesterday, only it was a little different in that we only walked in the woods. Which was why we were out for about an hour and a half. Or two halves. I’m not sure, Feeder can’t tell the time, even when she’s looking at a digital clock. Anywho, a lovely relaxing hack for once, with ten minutes at grass; Feeder managed to catch a grass hopper. I know this because she put it on me and it tickled. On the way back home she found a feather and stuck it in my bridle. I know this because I looked like a numpty. Even the dog we passed on the way down the hill asked me why it was there, and dogs don’t normally say anything bar “woof, yo dawg, how you doin?” so it was good to know that dogs are capable of a conversation that does not include “wow, you’re bigger than me, don’t kill me please,” and then having them scarper off.

When we got back in Feeder decided to tidy my house for me. She got a 2 out of 10; purely on the basis that she buried my back legs in shavings again. Not amused. Silly Feeder…

Some reasons why Horses are better than Men

trentpark — Mon, 12 Jul 2010 16:20:11 +0000

Let me preface this post by saying that I am not anti-men, in fact I like many of them very much. But I have spent many years of my life in the pursuit of finding a good man, which has proved fairly fruitless so far, and considerably less time finding an exceptionally good horse. This is not the only favourable comparison however, as you will see below, and I would encourage you all to add your thoughts and views.

Also, in the interest of equality and balance, I would encourage any male readers to include their thoughts on why horses could be better than women. All points of view are welcome, as long as they are not abusive, are well thought out, clearly articulated and agree entirely with mine.

So,here we go:

Horses offer you unconditional love, and ask for very little in return. Livery bills are a small price to pay for such feelings of genuine affection ( please don’t take this literally though Chris, if you are reading this)
Horses couldn’t care less how you look. You can turn up with month long roots, old clothes with holes in, a complete lack of make up, a stinking hangover and look about 85 years old - this look can often seen at TPEC after a big night out
Horses will never try to make you look stupid in front of their friends
The buzz you get from achieving something great with your horse, can not be beaten by the buzz of a good date. Although I am prepared to concede that it may be possible, just only on the very rare occasion
You can leave your horse in a field for a few days with his horsey friends, and be happy and relaxed in the knowledge that he is enjoying himself and contented. The same does not apply when your other half goes on a boys holiday
When horses spit, sneeze loudly, or pass wind, they dont do it with the aim of impressing or being amusing – they just genuinely need to do it
You don’t need to spend time with your horses’ friends and their other halves
Horses will cheer you up, even when you have PMT and hate the whole world. I don’t know how this is possible, it just is
When horses lick your neck, the only thing they want are food treats
They can never bore you, they constantly surprise you, and they will (usually) try their hardest
When they poo on you, its pysical and can be cleaned up in an instant. Sadly the same isnt true of the emotional kind that men leave
Money doesn’t impress them. They know little and care even less
Horses will make their feelings clear. They won’t play games -they will either want to work/jump/not spook or not and they will let you know which way their intentions are from the outset. They won’t change their mind halfway through a cross country course.
You can never put on too much weight in a horse’s opinion. Although clearly you cannot become so obsese you appear on a Jeremy Kyle type show, as that would actually just be cruel and your horse will hate you forever
A horse is unlikely to dump you by text after 6 months. Actually, I think most men are unlikely to do this, I just pick the wrong men. They may dump you in the literal sense, but usually this will never be intentional and they will feel dreadful afterwards
A horse will never question why you feel the need to buy a new bag/pair of shoes/jeans/dress. They may, however, get excited at the sight of the yellow College farm or transparent Ingatestone bags as they are likely to contain likkits or some other form of horse treat
Horses will not stalk you, despite you making it clear you have no interest in them. Added to this, they will not send you friend requests on facebook or linked in, despite the aforementioned lack of interest
A horse will neigh at you sweetly to ask for food or water. Men will approach this task in a completely different way
A horse will never ask what time you will be home
A horse will always keep your secret

I think it’s important to provide a balanced view, so here are some thoughts on why men maybe better than horses:

They (sometimes) pay for your horse
They (sometimes) pay for horse necessities – such as horseboxes etc
They will be able to find Ingatestone and strange lorry hire places on a sat nav system easier than a woman. Or possibly just me
They come in very handy when putting up hanging racks in stables and unjamming locked stable doors
They can carry more hay bales in the wheelbarrow than I can

I can only sum up by saying, that whilst some people may come and go in your life, your horse is for always.