January 2009 Newsletter

A happy new year to you all and I hope your Christmas was a good one.

How pleased are we that we have had a dry spell.  The going is getting better and winter life is far more bearable when it is cold, bright and DRY.

Thank you for all the duvets and towels (keep them coming) also the phone fairy delivered us a phone so everyone is happy – how easy are we to please?  However, we are upping the begging, as towels and duvets were too easy, as we need a caravan!  Now I know you probably think us greedy but we may be able to help someone out by taking a little old, no longer required, caravan off their hands, as to dispose of them is costly and the market place for older vans is virtually non existent.  If you have, or know of anyone who has, such a thing then please can you let us know what it’s like and if it isn’t too far away, we would be happy to come and collect it.

With Christmas & New Year behind us, boy that went quick, we are now thinking ‘holiday’ and as the New Forest has been a great success over the past two years, we are going to do another year and will be offering two options which are listed on the website.

Now where was I re my dear sweet monster Mon’T’, oh yes crying myself to sleep!  As a five year old Mon’T’ was needy of me as he was quite a baby and not overly confident but, as a six year old, he was a thug and not a very brave thug at that. I’d been out on a hack and just across and along the road a bit from the yard was a little path, which was gated to the verge by the road and this gate was a tricky little chap to negotiate from on top of a horse, because some do-gooder had driven a stake into the ground to stop it opening fully and it would therefore close on it’s own.  This was dangerous so we riders attached a loop of balling twine which hooked over the post and the gate, which kept it open while we squeezed through.  I was on my way home and having a little canter when Mon’T’ decided he was now in a hurry to get home so stopping was not on his agenda.  Ian’s words of wisdom about him being slow compared to his thoroughbreds gave me little comfort as we carried on cantering and were now heading down the path to the ‘the gate’ which I was praying would be closed because if it was propped open, I was likely to loose a leg.  We cantered on and through wet eyes and many emotions I saw the gate was closed, thank God, as the thought of throwing my self off was terrifying, as apart from pain (!) Mon’T’ would be straight on the road and although it was a quiet lane, it freaked me out.  Surely he wouldn’t jump it (?) as it was on the edge of a little wooded verge and he may have to crash through the trees; on his own I thought, as tree crashing is not one of my skills, we were now nearing the end of the path and decision time was upon me, stay or jump, and he slowed down and I could see and feel him computing his options and he made the right decision and stopped, phew…..  I jumped off to open the gate, as there was no way it was manageable from on him, as he wasn’t doing stand still, and when the gate was open, he barged through knocking me for six and pissed off home, my whip ended up in a tree and Ian could hear me screaming from inside the yard.  When Ian got to the main yard gate there was a heaving Mon’T’ and me legging it towards him in a right old state.  I left Ian to deal with the ‘possessed one’ and I hit the fridge where we had one can of Special Brew (electric soup) which Ian had said was for medicinal purposes.  It was horrible but the effects were bloody marvellous…

Some days later Mon’T’ tried to cart me across the A29, having encountered a squeaky wheeled bicycle, and again I couldn’t pull him up but this time it wasn’t a gate it was the A29, OH MY GOD….  With composure I zig zagged from side to side along the road, still in canter and still not stopping but delaying possible death – thank goodness he was sure footed as we were on tarmac  - thank goodness he had a fair amount of bone and good feet and legs!  Nothing else for it but to ram him into the bank so with him sandwiched between my left and right side, bum in saddle, spurs in his side, I pointed him at the bank and went for it, he stopped but we were face to the bank and he was sort of sitting down and had grazed his hind fetlocks to do so, small price to pay for life.  I rode him home in jog and squeezed together under me in the ultimate compact outline physically possible and on reaching the A29 (only 50 yards away) it was clear enough to cross, thank goodness, and our yard was only a couple of hundred yards down the lane.
This is why I cried myself to sleep but we had a plan……..

Annee