Finally Frank has a bridle that fits. When I went to try Frank prior to purchase I was impressed  –   not just by Frank – but by the saddle he was wearing.  I had never sat in anything so comfortable or felt so secure.  I didn’t recognise the saddle logo and was still no wiser even after I was told it was a Prestige.  This saddle needs a blog post all of its own especially as it is now in New Zealand. WTF? So, new horse, new saddle – why not get a new bridle to match? When it arrived I was eager to try it on as Frank’s only bridle was falling apart due to Frank’s complete disregard for any tack, halters, lead ropes  – all of which he has snapped, cracked, pulled back, trodden on, caught on (anything/nothing) or demolished – I don’t know how he does it but everything gets broken. The Prestige bridle looked smart but was clearly way too big even after adjustment and moving up to the top holes all round.  As I turned to talk to someone in one swift move Frank managed to snap the bridle – rendering it impossible to return and, because of where it was broken, impossible to repair.  I don’t even know how he managed to do this and couldn’t work out how it had become caught. So, after hole punching I managed to get the bridle to fit – sort of –  only just managing to shorten the cheek straps but the nose band was always too low and too big – any flash straps always fitted too low on the soft part of his nose so they could not be used. So, two and a half years later of making do (and saving up for a new bridle) I have tried a Micklem bridle kindly loaned by Huw Thomas, saddler. Every part of this bridle has a clear purpose, every strap fits perfectly and it looks like it was made for Frank’s face.  Frank’s size is ‘small horse’ the ‘standard’ size was far too big even though Frank is 16.2 he has a small head and a fine nose. The leather is soft and is padded around the contoured headpiece and noseband.  I tried it on Frank in the school,  in a showjumping competition and out on a hack – yesterday in fact when it was a particularly windy day – the tail end of hurricane Ophelia   – and Frank was a bit fresh but I felt I had much more control and Frank did not rush off or get strong in canter  – he can sometimes get away from me (fortunately he always comes back but in the Micklem he didn’t even try). In the school there was less head shaking and less resistance – he seemed more comfortable.  There was also less overbending, he seemed to be more ‘through’ and riding up into the bridle.  In the showjumping arena he was calm and collected and felt easier to steer around the course.  I found his head carriage was less overbent and he was looking at the jumps on approach to the fence instead of checking to see if his penis was still there.  So far I have been happy with this bridle and have now ordered one in brown.  Frank hasn’t yet managed to break the one I have on loan.  I hope the new one arrives soon as I don’t want to go back  the old one.  Anyone want to buy a full size Prestige bridle which has a bit of leather missing?

Why should I let the toad work squat on my life?

Why can’t I use my wit as a pitchfork and drive the brute off? 

Philip Larkin 1922 – 1985

Ah work – takes all our precious energy yeh? and of course, most importantly, it pays the bills and with two horses the bill pit is bottomless.  The work life balance is tricky… work pays for horses but leaves little time (or energy) to ride them and winter is especially hard with the added burden of mucking out, dark nights and endless mud. To help cope with the pressure my horses would go on full livery for six months leaving me with less money but more time to ride. As seasons pass I have been wondering how much energy I have left to compete – I have plans to go up through the levels at British Eventing  and take up team chasing. These are activities a lot of people give up as they reach their 50s and are not generally regarded as retirement options. I have always been a late developer so why change the habits of a lifetime?

I have been hatching an escape plan for some years now and in the end it was the nest egg that cracked open…. not completely  cooked but I am hungry for freedom and I quite like runny eggs.  Today is my last day at work.  Lectures start next week and for the first time in 25 years I won’t be stood at the front delivering them.  It’s a bit of a relief to be honest… I won’t ever again have to try and explain the concept of probability or the Kolmorgorov-Smirnoff test.  Most of my students are terrified of statistics and any such explanations were met with the  expression of that of a dog being shown a card trick. I did my best, however, and most of the time it was good enough.  Latterly, I have encountered applause after lectures and students have evaluated lectures as ‘inspiring’  but I have also experienced students falling asleep or rushing out be sick. I have managed to make students laugh and not so long ago won a distinguished teaching award. Not bad for someone who doesn’t have maths O level.  At an event organised for staff who had achieved such awards I struck up conversation with a colleague from a science department. Their response to my question asking about the  subject they taught was ‘statistics’ and then after a furtive glance around the room they leaned in and said ‘but I haven’t got maths O level’.  Seems I wasn’t the only fake in the university afterall. My struggles and successes with the subject of maths will be covered in a later post – but don’t hold your breath.

Student evaluations of my efforts to teach them have been variable. In answer to the questions ‘what is the best thing about the module and what is the worst thing about the module?’ the answer, in both cases, has been ‘The lecturer’.  I found this somewhat perplexing until I heard something Graham Norton  recalled when trying, unsuccessfully,  to get Terry Wogan to rehearse for a show they were both presenting.  In response to Norton’s constant pleas for some practice Wogan replied ‘Look, they either like me or they don’t and no amount of rehearsing will make the slightest difference’. So, anyway… I have very quickly found another outlet for my precious energy  – one that requires no preparation whatsoever but that also requires a pitchfork… yes. You guessed.  Mucking out.

I have to go now as, late as ever, I am left with trying to organise my own leaving do.  I have been emphatic about not wanting one – then persuaded by colleagues to have one I backed down and made a couple of suggestions. These plans were hijacked then by a paramedic colleague  – who shall remain nameless but who after sticking his oar in (Hore – geddit?) – has discovered, last minute, he is double booked for fiddle playing somewhere else and now can’t make it. So my leaving do is now in limbo.  Whilst I was happy to leave without the occasion being marked I am now worried I have a leaving do that no one will attend because they don’t know where it is…. I am now at my wits end  – where’s that bloody pitchfork?

I’ve just had a good chat with Peter at Morgan Jones Coachbuilder. I’m going up there on Thursday to discuss specifications.  It’s quite an exciting prospect especially as I am planning for this lorry to be my main place of residence.  My mobile abode.  I’m looking forward to being of NFA to becoming a raggle taggle gypsy…. Out riding on the Gower yesterday I became aware of a number of small caravan sites tucked away, off the road, in wonderful locations with awesome sea views and  spent some time considering what it would be like to park up there – to go to sleep with sounds of owls hooting, snipe drumming, foxes barking and to wake up to the dawn chorus and the most awesome views.  Some of these sites are quite close to the yard where i keep my horses, others have stabling of their own – particularly one’s like the place I stayed in  Forest of Dean – where Frank came from.  I have friends there with a lovely yard and campsite close by – the possibilities for travel with my horse for training,  hunting, trail riding, competition are endless. Also, I wouldn’t have the stress of packing to go places because it would all be there – in one place all ready to go.

I had a trip to the charity shop again yesterday to deposit yet more of the clutter I have accumulated over the years.  I have, over the last 20 years moved from a large house in Sheffield, to a slightly smaller house in Swansea, to an even smaller house (without stairs)  in Sandy Lane, Pennard, to a smaller flat in Lunnon to where I am now – just one room in a friends lovely house in Upper Killay.  I am more than happy living in this much smaller space.  This is because my life is lived outside. I spend  much of the day and most evenings, riding (hacking out, schooling), mucking out or just bumbling around the yard.  There’s always something there that needs doing, sweeping, fixing, tidying, cleaning.  There are courses of jumps to put up and take down, dressage markers to set out and there’s are friends that need help with their horses – it’s pretty much non-stop.  So I come home – to write and sleep – and I can do this from one room and that room does not have to be bricks and mortar – or stationary.  I don’t bother much with cooking – I haven’t the time.  There were days when I had a home that was full of people, friends come to stay for holidays, friends around for parties, dinner parties, garden parties, after parties (even before parties!). Now friends invite me round for dinner – or we eat out – or its just beans on toast.  I love my new life.  In some ways it has contracted but in other ways it has expanded in ways I never would have imagined.  Who would’ve thought just three years ago, even,  that I’d be competing at British Eventing (BE90) and regional showjumping –  travelling all over the South West and up to Lincoln to compete. I have Frank to thank for this. Frank has changed my life. Frank actually has saved my life.

I have decided also to take early retirement.  Just a few days left now and the prospect of no more lecturing is a massive relief.  Downsizing has enabled me to do this and the lump sum that is part of my pension, will come in handy for buying a nice horsebox that is big enough and luxurious enough for me to live in.

Some of my friends think I’m crazy.  Most are green with envy.

Discuss.

Definitely felt ready to go up a level especially after our success at Chepstow BE80 in almost coming 4th but for going too fast XC . I travelled down to Norton Fitzwarren, in Somerset, on Friday afternoon – a good three and half hour journey – no stops. Raining all the way. On arrival at Pontispool I checked the list for stabling and couldn’t see my name.  I made a few enquiries and was made to feel quite unwelcome.  The same thing happened last year I seem to recall – it’s like everyone you talk to is pissed off.  There’s an immediate assumption you haven’t paid and that this really is too bad and must be sorted out with so and so in the morning. I had paid –  I checked my online statement – but ended up apologising to them. Anyway, I was directed to a spare stable only to find that Frank had a very fearsome stallion  for a neighbour. However, I needed to get Frank unloaded and offer him some water after his long journey and I knew he would be needing a pee (he doesn’t really like to pee in the lorry – unless Nathan is underneath him).  I was looking around for someone else to ask about stabling as the stallion was kicking up a fuss when some pompous teenager marched up to me and told me that I couldn’t possibly stable my horse there as it was next to a stallion (as if I didn’t I know)  and that she knew the owners of the stallion and they wouldn’t be very pleased. Welcome to the world of eventing.   We certainly don’t do it for the camaraderie do we?

Realising that there were many spare stables I moved Frank a few doors down from Mr Angry and set about unloading the lorry and moving stuff around. I needed to walk the course before it got dark but I also had to plait Frank’s mane and tail, prepare stud holes and clean tack. I made a quick cup of tea and was glad I had eaten a full English at Cariad in Penclawdd before I had set off this morning – as a results I wasn’t feeling too hungry and decided I would eat after I had walked the course. The optimum time for the BE90 was 5mins 7 secs and there were 17 fences.  As I set off there were a couple just ahead of me,  also walking the 90, so I decided I would follow them in case it got complicated and I got lost. Fence 1 was an easy 80/90 combo, 2 OK, 3 OK, Fence 4 (upright hurdle) would need some care as it was a sharp  left turn after jumping 4a to 4b. Fence 5 after a long pull up a stubble field was a chunky wide box and fence 6 was a hanging log on top of a steep mound at the top of the hill. I thought I might need to kick on here as Frank could run out of steam and stop if he couldn’t see over the log. Fence 7 was an owl hole and Fence 8 was a massive hurdle with a ditch in front which had a landing which dropped away so that it would feel like you were leaping into space.  The couple who had marched on ahead of me, hardly giving the fences more than a cursory glance, were now closely examining fence 8 taking pictures and trying to work out how big it must be by comparing the fence in relation to body parts (chin, chest, top of head). Now I know Frank has an issue with ditches especially ones trying to hide under logs or in front of fences. I knew that if I looked into this ditch on approach, we would be doomed. I needed to focus on something ahead but could see only sky.  Shit on a stick, this is a big fence.  I wasn’t expecting this. Suddenly downcast, I walked away to find fence 9 and as I did I turned to look back up at  fence 8 and saw a woman striding along with a little dog on a lead. This’ll catch a few out she said brightly. Then I felt a bit sick as i was sure I was destined to be one of the few. Trying to appear unnerved I smiled and agreed.  It’s easily 1m she continued. I introduced myself and found I was walking the course with ‘Dobbs’.  Fence 9 was a roll top, dark shiny skinny and Fence 10 was in four parts: skinny hanging log in; two steps down; one stride; two steps up; and skinny hanging log out. Dobbs was using some kind of app to calculate where the minute markers should be and after fence 11 we turned sharp left.  I noted, however, the couple who had been in front of me, were now walking in from the right so I suggested that fence 12 must be to the right, not the left. Oh, yes, you’re right she said and I felt so pleased to have contributed something to the course walk other than fear and ignorance.  Fence 13 and my chance again to be of some use as I took the phone and walked through the water between elements a and b as I was wearing wellingtons and Dobs had only shoes. Having felt initially a bit scared of Dobbs and not wanting to seem like an ignorant oik I gradually warmed to her and listened with interest to how she had bred her own horses from a neighbours failed flat racing stallion who used to escape into her mare’s fields and provide services free of charge.

We shared lorry breakdown stories and I decided that although she was terribly middle class and quite posh she was actually probably an extremely talented horsewoman and actually very nice. Dobbs complimented me on having a very handsome spotty horse  and was sure that we would do well – she would look out for me tomorrow and wished me luck.

After getting Frank ready I went back to my lorry and finally made a cup of tea.  Then I thought about fence 8 and I thought I might die.  With this mind set all thoughts of having anything to eat were gone. I climbed up in to the luton, switched R4 on to timed and fell asleep really trying very hard not to think about fence 8. Dressage time was 11.02 so it was up at crack of sparra – feed, muck out, water, haynets, groom, finish plaiting, stud up, take Frank for a bit of grass, watch a bit of showjumping, lug all the tack from lorry to stables and worry about fence 8.  Planned to be on board by 10 to ensure a good warm up for dressage. Can never decide on optimum length of stirrups for dressage as I would rather not ride with any stirrups at all. Anyway, Frank was settled, listening and in a very good mood. Asking him to canter a little too forcefully and he gave a massive buck – hoping he wouldn’t do this in the actual test I was also  hoping he would strike off on the correct canter lead on the left rein.  I watched a couple of tests and satisfied myself that I had in fact learnt the correct test.  So many things have gone wrong in my short eventing career that I know that anything can go wrong – nothing would surprise me no matter how often I  checked  and double check things. Number 31, are you ready?  Number 30 has withdrawn  (probably due to fence 8 was my first thought) so you can go in now if you are ready.  So, in we go. My judge has a bell, not a car horn I am reminded – ah for whom the bell tolls and I thought again about fence 8. I am satisfied with the test.  First, we remembered it and it was fairly accurate.  I remembered to breathe and smile. I rode Frank quietly and he was responsive, obedient and collected.  I felt we lacked some impulsion and energy but i was relieved he struck off on the correct canter lead and didn’t tank off…. he was probably a bit overbent and not coming through from behind.  I hoped for a 32 but we did drift outside the boards at one point which is never a good move and may have cost us.

Dressage over and it’s back to the stable for quick tack change and get ready for the show jumping – we had about 30 mins. Was a bit rushed but I tried to have a plan for the SJ warm-up – cross pole, straight bar, oxer. Frank was pinging and bucking but in a careful and controlled kind of way – his way of saying ‘woo hoo let’s go’. I’m feeling quite hot now after rushing about and feel a bit wobbly due to low blood sugar – having not eaten anything really since the full english apart from half a Ginsters cheese and onion pasty and two dark chocolate gingers for supper.  I have had a can of fizzy drink which has given me stitch and thinking about FENCE 8 is making my nerves bad FFS!

The round is perfect until fence 5 when Frank didn’t really take off as I dropped him right in front of the fence and he hit the pole so hard with his knees that it seemed to fly over our heads which put us in a very bad place for fence 6 which we cleared anyway and the rest until we had the last fence down – I have no idea why apart from the fact you should never approach the last fence as if it is the last fence – if you do this you can lose concentration and have the last fence down. Always try and imagine that there is another fence after the last fence – good advice from Jonathan Pett that I really need to follow!

I was disappointed to have let Frank down by achieving 8 unnecessary faults.  Oh well, no time to wallow – time to get ready for XC – the most exciting bit. I didn’t bother jumping too many warm-up fences – Frank was ready to go  – he’s been here before – he knows the score but he’s never jumped a fence 8 before. For the first time he was out of the start box absolutely on the button. Fence 1 was easy and two and three disappeared under us, the tight turns between  fence 4a and b were easier than I thought and he cleared fence five easily given the long pull up the stubble field. Fence 6 caused our first problem and Frank didn’t trust me enough to jump something he couldn’t see to the other side of.  Once he’d gone up and had a look he popped over it nicely. Fence 7 was the owl hole and again he couldn’t see the other side and stopped. Turning quickly I represented and when he ducked out again I ran him into the side of the fence. Damn it,  I thought as I could see the other rider gaining ground on us. Quickly, turning again, this time just before the fence I took one hand off the reins and whipped his ass  – he shot through the hole onto fence 8 – my nemesis. I thought if he stops here it’s game over  – so we can’t stop here, I know he can clear this but i could sense him looking for a way out, first left, then right, approaching the fence like an eel but I was on it like sonic and I had him  – kicking and screaming, ducking and diving I made him take off and we  soared into the empty space beyond –  landing half-way down the hill – me just holding on to the buckle end of the reins and feeling as if I had twisted a bit in midair. So, recovering my balance, flying down hill to fence 9, a skinny latte, he locked on to this and sailed over it. The four elements of fence 10 were gone in a blur, and fence 11 and fence 12 the hay cart. He didn’t hesitate at the water (scene of a stop here last year) and we almost overshot fence 14 as we were going so fast I had to haul him round and jump it at an angle – fence 15 was gone in  a flash, the two elements of fence 16 easy peasy as was the last fence.  We were done – and I was still alive AND we had jumped fence 8.  I was so pleased with him  – once he finds his groove he just takes me and looks after me and  it is the most wonderful feeling in the world.

BTW Dobbs won her section easily on a dressage score of 25 winning a ticket to Badminton grass roots Mitsubuishi cup – and I for one will be cheering her on.