Horsing Around

Horsing Around

Sunday 9th May 2009 - Me, Freckles, J and H turned up at Carrington Riding School armed with our three daily mail "Horse Riding Tokens" and £5 apiece.

It took me longer to negotiate the parking (I got in a tiz as all the cars were posh four x fours and I had the whole of the outside café clientele watching me) than it did for all four of us to get fitted with hats, boots and horses fit for the task of carting our sorry asses (sorry that keeps happening, I keep talking all cowboy) into the indoor riding arena.

My horse was called Mac, J’s was called Zac, H had one called Magic and F had the naughty one called Ned, we knew as soon as we looked at him he would be.

After he had tried to drag her back into the stable, we all tried to restrain him and he managed to stand on F’s foot. The scream she let out had (yet again) the horsey folk at the café looking at us, Well aintcha got betta things ta be adoin that lookin at us, ya damn yankees! But this time I paid no mind to that, as I could see in just a field away behind the hedgerow a middle aged woman putting her bra on, a photographer and another two ladies in housecoats! well yeee har little missi, we got a wild one here!

The arena door opened before I had time to vocalise what I had seen, J kindly swapped horses with F, which I was glad of especially when I spotted a tiny Tasmanian Devil embroidered on the rug underneath his saddle. Theres always one isn’t there.

Our first task was to get onto our horse and adjust our stirrups, then how to hold the reigns, thumbs up, little fingers tucked safely away (so thats how all those cowboys, lost their goddamn fingers - I thought. We trotted round the arena then to spice it up a bit we did figures of eight, when it came time to do some trotting I was thrown around like I don’t know what until the teacher said I had to lift my bottom rhythmically, I don’t think I got the hang of this at all, but Mac was a very nice horse, light brown and not naughty at all. J’s horse naughty Ned, needed a firm hand, she had ridden horses in her youth in Aylesbury, (i did have a vision of a rodeo rider being thrown clean outta tha goddamn stadium) she took every opportunity to show us how it was done, rhymically raising her bottom right on cue , (and thats all i am prepared to say on that matter!, i told you i aint talkin mister

Oh before I leave you in case your wondering about the woman putting her bra on, the two in housecoats and the photographer, I asked at the reception when we took our hats and boots back. ladies from the riding school were doing a “calender girls” type shoot with horses, I can only wonder who, where, why and how, but I suppose if it raises funds for a worthy cause, who am I to question it. Those poor horses surely its some kind of equestrian abuse?

We got back to the car and I managed to reverse out of the space without damaging anyones 4 X 4 and in just 10 minutes we were all back at J’s having hot cups of tea and eating donuts or “glazed rings of death” as Tom Hanks called them on the Jonathan Ross show.

Though I may never ride a horse again, it can be something to tick off my list (if i had a list) I wonder what adventure, me and my daily mail vouchers will get up to next?

Lucky Buttons, Curve Balls and Balti

As regular readers will know I do try to find the silver lining and sometimes i find other things too, a few months ago i found a really large black button with KAREN MILLEN written on it, it is now on my desk and work and we call it the "lucky button", although not so lucky for the person who cant fasten up their coat but will be hard pressed to find a replacement button too! I bet it really narked them off that day. If your reading this and the button is yours get in touch, I will need to ask you a serious of questions to verify you are the original owner but it might be nice to reunite this button with its rightful garment (and owner).

Anyway I consider it my lucky button, for no other reason that I decided it to be so, i rubbed the button and a week later won the break to vegas, and I rubbed the button again and won the london trip.

Getting on the met this met this morning, I saw a young man with a huge rucksack taking up a seat, I politely asked if I could sit their, only to realise he was somewhat challenged, the rucksack was heavy and full, I said for him to leave it and I would stand (when i say challenged I mean he has various disabilities) he managed to move the bag, although not a trained GP after living with my hubs for 22 years, bringing up two children and working on a helpdesk at a well known university, I would diagnose something muscular, dystrophy perhaps, tourettes too as if life hadnt thrown enough curve balls, when the tram came in to St Petes square he struggled up and I helped him put the rucksack on, he said thanks or called me a Wankxx either way I was cool with it, the cards he has been dealt would suggest he could have free reign on name calling of the general public in my view at least.

And you know I thought of all the whinging teenagers (my own included) grumbling about trivea when every task and every day is a struggle for this lad and it didnt keep him in the house, he was getting out and about, actually by the size of that rucksack he could have been running (well walking quickly) away from home. Maybe my magic button is just a prop, but if the pope can have a cross I can have a button if i think it works the fact that it doesnt doesnt matter too much.

Next stop armed with my daily mail voucher - I got my paper ( I am currently saving tokens for the daily mail Win £100,00 and also Go Horseriding for a fiver) and checked this weeks Now magazine, there it was, page 73, my most recent Janet, Janet E (with lots of encouragement from moi) is there with a small snap next to a profession giving her feed back to the 7 beauty balm products.

Thats all I am now home and for tea we are having chicken balti, nan bread, oven chips (aunt bessies) and rice.

More later

Mahooooo