I found my way to Praed street easily from Paddington as my friend Nic had suggested and waited for the number 27. A few minutes passed before the bus came into view…oh this is easy I thought as i ask the driver for a ticket to Camden…over the other side he said…so I jumped off and ran across the road to catch another 27 going in the opposite direction. Cash in hand I wondered how I was going give this to the driver who looked bemused… card he said… no cash..gesturing to the card machine. Oh blimey I thought another machine. Upstairs on the front seat I had a wonderful journey in splendid autumn sunshine from Paddington to Chalk Farm glancing occasionally at my pocket computer just to make sure I was heading in the right direction. Earlier that morning I’d parked at Twyford station and looked for the parking machine knowing I had the right change. Oh…what’s this? A telephone number to pay for parking? So much has changed since I last paid for car parking or bought a bus ticket…. I was struck by how much the world had changed since i last travelled to London. From road atlas to sat nav, from having the right change to needing no change at all. I felt like a real country bumpkin.

Since the lorry had let me down, again, there was no way I could make it to the South Pembrokeshire Hunt opening meet at Creselly house in Pembrokeshire. I had spent most of Friday getting Frank ready. This included, bath, full clip and tack cleaning. Added to this I ensured my jacket and boots were clean, stock ironed, hip flask filled. As the day progressed I realised that although the lorry was ready it would be impossible to pick it up and it was another case of all dressed up but no where to go. Saturday turned out to be a beautiful November day so I decided to ride to Oxwich beach as the tide would be out aroundmidday. This meant avoiding crossing paths with the local hunt as Cefyn Bryn was location of a Banwen Miners meet. These are usually fairly quiet affairs and I’d much rather find my own way across the Bryn, including racing along soft turf gallop tracks which curiously the hunt seem to be unaware of as they stick to the hard and gnarly stony main thoroughfare that traverses across the top of the Bryn. I’ve no wish to run Frank’s trotters across such tough terrain full of stony potholes. It’s poor hunting country for all sorts of reasons…local foxes have nothing to fear as hounds are banned from much of the land that surrounds the Bryn and it turns out to be no more than a fairly uneventful pootle across the top of Gowers backbone taking in some rather wonderful views….it seemed to be a day for Red Admiral butterflies too as i saw three as I rode across the bryn.

Dropping down to penny hitch past Penmaen estate it was clear that other wildlife might be in more danger from the local shoot. As I approached the crossroads I could see through the trees what looked to be a helicopter… indeed it was a sleek and shiny supersonic type of helicopter. As I passed quite close I mused on the convenience of having such a vehicle to get about…. roads are so busy and congested these days and I imagined some rich towny from Engerland sweeping across land and cities for a days shooting on Gower. Turns out it’s the mode of transport of local shopkeeper. Nice one Cyril.

Some aspects of Franks former training as a show horse are proving difficult to undo. His tendency to go overbent gives some clue to this. Every now and again though his ability to produce some lovely lateral and extended work leads one suspect, however, that he is definitely not just a one trick pony. He finds, like most horses, that working from behind is difficult and he’s obviously been rewarded in the past for just bending at the poll. He’s long and strong yet has a sensitive mouth….overuse of the hands exacerbates the problem. Pull back and you find you have no contact. When everything comes together – lifting from the base of his neck and bringing his hind legs under- the feeling is of riding uphill and this puts the rider in the correct position. Up until that feeling the rider has to fight for that position, resist being pulled forward, resist temptation to pull with the arms. Reliance on core strength is critical here and it’s exhausting. If you don’t work up a sweat during flatwork then you’re not doing it properly…. or you’re sitting on a ready made grand prix horse.

The problem of going overbent can be seen in these pictures. Counteracting this requires gargantuan effort to encourage self carriage to prevent Frank curling up, falling behind the vertical and having back legs paddling behind. To encourage hindquarters to engage the rider needs to sit up tall, sit back and drive forward with the seat and legs pushing the horse to work between hand and leg. This position is not easily sustained as Frank likes to pull the rider forward, off balance and then, having weakened the position of the rider there is loss of contact and rhythm.

Struggling with these difficulties and feeling like I’m not really making any progress has led to a dislike of flat work – it’s hard, it’s complicated, I’m not sure what it should feel like, I’m not sure what I should be doing… Frank obliges by bringing in the beak but this cons the rider into thinking this show horse outline is OK. In the pictures here my reins are too long and Frank is behind the vertical…he’s not working from behind, He’s not ‘through’ and this is the heart of the matter. Because I find flatwork so hard I find any excuse not to do it….tack needs cleaning, it’s too windy, rainy, too hot, too cold, I’m too tired….I’ve just eaten, I’m too hungry. We have spectacular and varied hacking here including beach rides and gallop tracks so flatwork has a lot of competition. Plans for eventing, however, mean that I will have to focus more on flat work as it is this which lets us down. Apart from a dressage score of 28 at Chepstow, where we were 4th after dressage, our scores are usually in the low 40s. Event judges, it seems, are not fooled by Frank’s show horse outline. So, Frank, we’ve been busted. What are we going to do? During a recent flatwork lesson I asked my trainer, Katy Applin, if she would ride Frank and tutor him in the ways of righteousness. Katy has ridden Frank three times now and he’s a different horse. Katy has transformed him and put the flatwork on fast forward. I was amused to hear him grunting as Katy worked him in the school. At the end of the lesson he was covered in foam. I’ve never been able to achieve grunts or foam. Have never been able to achieve flat out in the flat work. Katy Applin, you are a genius.

Here’s some video of Katy riding Frank today. There’s still far to go but so much improvement has been achieved… I wish I had asked for help earlier. Frank has made some progress since I’ve been riding him….I don’t think I’ve made him worse. I have learnt so much from our partnership and most importantly had SO much fun. I will be forever indebted to Frank for him tutoring me in the ways of righteousness 🙂 really excited for the coming season.

Finishing last years season with a first at Pembrey hunter trials (90cm), winning special prize (SPH Massiv = best geriatric team) in the Cotswolds Intermediate Team chase (5′ hedges) and going clear at BE Arena Eventing (90cm) for 5th place at Beacons gave me huge confidence in the partnership I have with Frank, particularly with cross country fences and I am hoping we have put his fear of ditches finally to bed.

The year ended with a chase me charlie competition at Ynys Y Mond Equestrian centre, on 30 December 2017 and practice for this involved me trying to find the courage one cold and snowy boxing day afternoon to play solitaire chase me charlie. Constant getting on and off again to put the jump up another hole when every cell in my body was screaming ‘nooooooooo’ required some faith in Frank – and in myself. Surprisingly, for a huge yard, there was no one around… most sane people were inside, by fires, stuffed full of food and drink watching the telly. It was a dull and grey old day, the winter sky had come down to meet the Bryn and was rolling down towards the school full of snow and wind and it was fooking freezing. I was wrapped up michelin stylee and felt much too restricted for this jumping mullarky. Christa Dillon wrote something yesterday (https://thehorseymum.wordpress.com/2018/02/20ups-and-downs-literally/) about being your own cheerleader and I can identify with that. It’s hard to be your own coach, especially when what you are trying to achieve might be a bit scary. It would be easy to pike out as there’s no one watching, no one to impress, no photographer, no evidence of achievement, no Mr Motivator. I did actually spot someone on the yard and called them over. They weren’t happy. A reluctant spectator is better than none I figured and anyway it wouldn’t be for long. ‘Please would you just watch me?’ ‘I’m trying to break my neck here and I’d like a witness.’ My friends husband was waiting in the car, engine running and she looked frozen… I jumped 1.35… looked around but my audience had gone. I got off, again, put the jump up another couple of holes and removed a coat. Got back on and as I prepared for the jump I remembered to breathe out slowly, relax. As I turned the corner I looked at the jump then quickly looked away. I have an earworm for these situations and atm its Eminem.. “Lose yourself… in the music, the moment … you own it …. you only get one shot … do not miss your chance to blow… this opportunity…”

The rhythm is just right, the beat is spot on and the words give me courage… Anyway, I jumped 1.40 that afternoon and left the jump up as a reminder. Reflecting on this, I realised I don’t actually need an audience – in fact you can guarantee as soon as someone gets the camera out I fuck up. Like Christa, I often work alone, train alone, compete alone – we are our own spectators, we are our own protectors and we doin just fine. High virtual five Christa – high five

NB These pics taken either just before or after the boxing day effort