Who am I?

I am a 14 2 Gypsy Gelding and I've moved from the Scottish stud farm to live in Fermangh (Northern Ireland) with some new animal friends.


We are all cared for by some Two-legs. These are the people we love and who love us back...with hay and apples...and carrots...and grapes...and mints!


Find me on Facebook!
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Caroline-Dilworth-Equine-Art/126004570799131

Wednesday, 16 May 2012

The Eight Stages of Horse Riding ... and when to stop!

Flint and his merry mares
Flint

Stage I: Fall off pony. Bounce. Laugh. Climb back on. Continue your ride.

 Stage 2: Fall off horse. Run after your horse. Climb back on. Ride until sunset.

Stage 3: Fall off your horse. Use the sleeve of your shirt to mop up your blood. Apologise to your horse. Mount your sympathetic ride and go home. Take two pain-killers and go riding the next day.


State 4: Fall off your horse. Refuse advice to call ambulance; drive self to A&E. Entertain nursing staff with tales of previous dare-devil stunts on horseback. Back to riding before cast comes off.

Stage 5: Fall off yourhorse. Temporarily forget name of your horse and the name of your husband/wife. Flirt shamelessly with paramedics when they arrive. Spend a week in hospital while the titanium pins are screwed in place. Start riding again before the doctor gives the official "Okay".

Stage 6: Fall off your horse. Fail to see any humor when hunky paramedic says, “You again?” Gain firsthand knowledge of advances in medical technology thanks to stint in ICU. Convince self that permanent limp isn’t that noticeable. Promise husband you’ll give up riding. One week later purchase older, slower, shorter horse.

Stage 7: Fall off your horse. Feel relieved when the artificial joints and implanted medical devices seem unaffected. Tell your other half that the scrapes and bruises are due to a gardening accident. Pretend you don’t see them  roll their eyes and mutter as they walk away. Give the horse an apple.

Stage 8: Go see your horse and momentarily consider riding, but suddenly remember that your arthritis won't let you lift your leg high enough to reach the stirrup; even with the aid of a mounting block! Share a beer with your grateful horse & recall the "good old days".

1 comment:

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