After reading my answers to the stolen meme, a few people expressed interest in hearing about my experience of horse riding. I was reluctant to lay bare my ignominious defeat but, after revisiting the saga with Harry, I can see the funny side, so here it is:
Rosie Goes Riding
Harry and I were sitting on a clifftop above a deserted beach, desultorily watching the feeble little waves breaking on the shore. No surfing that day. We were about to turn away when a posse of riders on horseback came into sight, their mounts galloping along the shoreline, kicking up spray. Harry thought it would be wonderful to do that in moonlight and there began his romantic notion of us doing that very thing.
And so it was that I came to be in a stable yard, kitted out with riding hat and boots, amongst a gaggle of pony mad little girls. The lesson started in the yard with the basics, like how to climb aboard and hold the reins. Harry mentioned to the instructor that I was a little nervous and she assured him I'd be fine with Dora, she was a placid animal and could do the exercises in her sleep. But animals can smell fear, can't they? The sweet natured horse knew I was never going to be in charge right from the start.
Then, on to the paddock, which meant putting into practice what we had learned about stopping and starting. So I told Dora to "walk on" and squeezed with my knees but she was going nowhere until the instructor came to my rescue.
The following week, we reprised the first week's lesson before moving into a bigger paddock to learn trotting. I was doing quite well until then but Dora refused to move on to the other paddock. We'd been shown how to smack a crop against the saddle, rather than the horse, but my feeble tap had no effect. The instructor leaned over and gave her a smart tap, galvanising her into sudden movement that nearly had me off. She behaved herself for the trotting but I knew who had the upper hand and it wasn't me. To finish the lesson we were given an exercise that involved turning round 360 degrees in the saddle, using the pommel. I'm a bit hazy now on how it was done but why on Earth would anyone want or need to do that? I think I made it eventually but I can't be sure and Harry doesn't remember!
Whilst I was making my inept attempts, Harry took to horseback like a duck to water. By the third week, I was still going round in circles when, in the next field, Harry was trotting around prior to going out on a ride with experienced pupils and their instructor. There had been a mistake in the allocation of horses that morning and the only one left for Harry to ride was Jago, a spirited animal, usually only ridden by instructors. Harry was thrown off unceremoniously but got straight back on. He relished the challenge and was allowed to ride the horse from then on. Each week, Jago threw him off in a different way, until he realised Harry wasn't going to give up.
I think Dora was tired on the day of my sixth lesson because she seemed to go into the 'I can do this in my sleep' mode. Anyway, I was plodding around with a semblance of knowing what I was doing when the stable owner came along and said I must go on a ride the following week.
Placid Dora came with me on my very first proper ride. We set off nicely, trotting along the bridle path, until she decided that wasn't enough fun and bolted off the track, heading determinedly in the direction of the nearby trunk road. I pulled on the reins in vain, hanging on for dear life, until the instructor caught up and took control. On return to the yard in every previous week, one or other of the pony mad little girls had offered to take Dora from me to do whatever had to be done between lessons. That time, none of them was around and I had to look after Dora myself. I dismounted, remembering we were not to let the horses drink straight away but Dora headed doggedly for the water trough. I actually managed to stop her and leant up against her shoulder, as we had been taught. Her response was to stomp hard on my foot! My howl of anguish at last produced help and Dora was led away by someone far more competent than I.
Harry, meantime, had also returned to the yard, where he found me hopping around in pain. He led me to his car, where he removed my boot from my rapidly swelling foot. That was the last time I ever went near a horse. Many years later my mother found my boots in the back of a cupboard and gave them to my elder daughter. The left boot still bore the muddy imprint of Dora's hoof.
Harry continued to ride out from the stables until he had the news that a careless person had ridden Jago into a tree and the poor horse had to be destroyed.
He never got to realise his romantic dream but he did get to ride with our daughters who, like him, took to it with ease.
Rosie
