Well, sh*t, Jackie!! If you don't write a memoir, I'll be very cross. In a few short paragraphs you whisked me back in time to Springdawn Riding School and my Saturdays spent sweeping and mucking and yes, bareback-headcollar rides to turn the ponies out at the end of the day. Though we didn't have an Ann following us. Absolutely brilliant, thank you. And yes, sometimes I think a blank page and a ruler might just be the answer. xo
Mum took my brother and me to a local riding school a few times - she would have a private lesson while we would be perched atop fat little ponies dragged round an oblong area in a huge barn on lead reins. Most of the other small people on round ponies had long plaits and half a clue what they were up to, not in any way like the two of us, who were there under protest (we didn't really like horses, preferring to spend our time at home in the garden with our goats, hens and bikes, with plenty of tasks to keep us busy like collecting eggs or podding peas). What we disliked most of all was the crazy lady waving a riding crop in the centre of the covered oblong, shouting 'HUP DOWN, HUP DOWN, HUP DOWN!' in a vain effort to teach us 'rising trot'.
I still get the chills thinking about it now, over forty years on! 🤣
Ah, Jill... You were also most excellent at organising our invisible ponies in the shed at Sutton Avenue.
The invisible ponies ❤️
With the intercom. Obviously.
Well, sh*t, Jackie!! If you don't write a memoir, I'll be very cross. In a few short paragraphs you whisked me back in time to Springdawn Riding School and my Saturdays spent sweeping and mucking and yes, bareback-headcollar rides to turn the ponies out at the end of the day. Though we didn't have an Ann following us. Absolutely brilliant, thank you. And yes, sometimes I think a blank page and a ruler might just be the answer. xo
They were simpler days, eh?
LOVED, LOVED, LOVED this post, Jackie!!!
Mum took my brother and me to a local riding school a few times - she would have a private lesson while we would be perched atop fat little ponies dragged round an oblong area in a huge barn on lead reins. Most of the other small people on round ponies had long plaits and half a clue what they were up to, not in any way like the two of us, who were there under protest (we didn't really like horses, preferring to spend our time at home in the garden with our goats, hens and bikes, with plenty of tasks to keep us busy like collecting eggs or podding peas). What we disliked most of all was the crazy lady waving a riding crop in the centre of the covered oblong, shouting 'HUP DOWN, HUP DOWN, HUP DOWN!' in a vain effort to teach us 'rising trot'.
I still get the chills thinking about it now, over forty years on! 🤣