What If I Don’t Remember Anything?!?

I didn’t change the clock on my spiffy MacBook Air, so it’s 01.35 a.m., and I’m returning home after two weeks in the States, so it’s not like I’m going to change the clock now that I should be getting back on it. We are delayed beyond belief, even for JFK, and the Baby Jesus only knows when we’ll even take off once we get ready to go, which isn’t for feckin’ hours.

This is all fine with me, because it occurred to me today that I may have forgotten everything I know about riding.

Night Mares

JFK AIRPORT I haven’t seen one live horse since… the 13th of December.

I haven’t seen any dead ones, it’s just the only horses I’ve seen have been in commercials.

Not even a donkey in a field!

Boot and Saddle

… read the sign on the shop. My heart leapt! Only three days away from the horses, and already pining.

But I checked my euphoria. I was, after all, walking down Christopher Street in NYC. Something told me it wasn’t what I thought it was.

It wasn’t.

And then I saw an antiques shop on Bleecker with two beautiful wooden carousel horses in the window.

Kept walking in that case, as well…

And On That Note

The last jump of 2008 was rather eventful.

Ho Ho No!

Saturday. My last lesson of 2008. Christmas cheer already imbuing the yard, and I had gifts for Nikki and Barbara, and everybody was already talking about their holiday plans.

In a festive mood, Barbara was sporting a pair of red felt antlers, complete with bells.

Rebel was in a mood, bolshy, impatient, and I put it down to that when he swerved like a lunatic at A. Sat back, pulled him in, off we went, another round – whoops, swerv-a-roonie, and do it all over again, and worse in the canter, every time at A-

Because our antlered instructor was standing there.

‘Er, could you take those off?’ I asked, breathless, as he dropped his inside shoulder again.

Connall didn’t like them either, and abashed, Barbara removed the yuletide addition to our afternoon lesson.

Was it really that? You have to wonder, did he really see them and get that freaked out? As I lead him out of the indoor and gave my thanks and said my goodbyes, Barbara had put them back on again. He looked at her. She looked at him. She shook her head. The bells lightly rang.

He jumped and skittered.

Yup. He knew.

Bum Rush

I’m really getting this ‘pushing with your seat’ lark.

I had Paul for my last private lesson of 2008, and when you have Paul, you just go until your whole body feels broken, much less your legs, in a good way of course.

We did two fences, one at B and a straight at X, and Reb was working really well, much better than usual for a Thursday morning, and/or I was more awake than usual – whatever, the stars had aligned themselves and we were in good synch.

And we always go better when I’ve got something, like an second fence, to think about.

So, the thing was, we landed after the crosspoles and we got the canter immediately, and I had my eye on the second jump, and I could feel him starting to flag, just that little bit -

And I pushed with my seat, like, consciously, and he didn’t lose pace [er, not much] and we took it, and he didn’t act the maggot and try to swerve in such a way that I would end up in the dirt.

I could have done that all day long. As it was, I missed the 63, which is always a buzz kill, and I certainly didn’t need the 20 minute walk to the 44.

It was worth it. Any time you ask if you can go again, and you’re let, even if you miss the bus, it’s so totally worth it.

You Can Keep Yer Theory of Relativity

I got Rebel to give me inside bend on Tuesday.

Better Not to Have Ridden At All?

I do know better, but sometimes life trumps intentions.

I met a group of fellow female [that can't be right, technically...] writers and had, oh, one more glass of wine than was strictly necessary.

And then I met up with some friends in town, and before I knew it, I was in Burger King at 1.30am… or 2… and anyway, home by 3… or so.

And still I went out to the yard.

Needs Must When the Devil Drives

People do crazy things on buses. Or, at least they do when I’m on them. Once, in New York, I was on an east side bus going uptown, and someone was flossing her teeth.

The entire bus smelled like mouth.

The other day, on the 130 heading into town, a woman [is it only women who crazy things on buses?] was cutting her fingernails. And just letting the shards fall to the floor! Has she never heard of voodoo?! I wondered.

I joined the elite ranks peopled [womaned?] by such creatures, last night.