side view theme:
The colours on a jockey’s shirt
Help put him in his place,
But colours cause a lot of hurt
In other sorts of race,
And those who differentiate –
Quite colouring their thought –
Should race towards an awful fate,
By cullers brought to naught!
My novel has now reached 103 000 words and I felt like a break, so today I leapt at the opportunity of joining an expedition to Giba Gorge after young R has been nagging to for a horse ride. She spent a while on board her favourite Shetland, and when I asked afterwards, ‘So, R, how was your ride?’ she replied, beaming, ‘It was fabulous!’ Then, when we laughed at her choice of description (bear in mind, she is still a month short of three years old) she said, ‘I’m a card!’
She has just earned a medal at swimming school for an unaided swim of 25 metres, and after a trial has demanded to start ballet lessons. Quite a go-getter!
Nobody was available to take me on the outride, and the lady in charge said that the horse I normally ride simply refuses to go without being led by other horses. I said I’d try anyway, so in due course horse and I ambled out of the gate and were some twenty meters up the track before he realised we were alone. We then had a discussion, where he said he wanted to go back, and I indicated with voice, firm pressure of legs and reins that I had other ideas.
Applying some of the principles of Natural Horsemanship I had learnt in the UK, I persuaded him to carry on without having to resort to a stick or force, and we had a pleasant trot through woodland as far as a rushing river, and then a trot and canter back just before it began to rain.
I enjoyed the surprised praise I received on return almost as much as I had enjoyed the ride!
© April 2011 Colonialist (Letterdash/WordPress)