Horsing around

Every weekend /whenever I can, I head out to the countryside and work at a stables*

When I was a kid we lived in the countryside and kept horses, geese etc and although I love living in the city and the convenience of coffee shops, pubs and stores on my doorstep, I miss being the countryside. So I head off beyond Chelmsford and Dunstable (no, not the ones in Blighty) and work at a stables that is home to about 15 horses, mainly Arabians.

I love trips to collect hay. On the latest trip, C and I loaded thirty-something bales (all balanced, not tied down) to the truck - and then try to drive back without losing any. My stomach muscles will never be the same again.

As a kid I remember trying to teach our horse about space, and good manners (eg don't bite people). Some of the horses like to test to see how far they can push you - so this morning I have two beautiful bruises: one from a bite on the arm from 'Big Al' (pictured) who was in a stroppy mood and nipped me on the arm to just show how pissed off he was (I had several layers on so it'll just bruise. He didn't even tear my Calvin Klein jacket**) and another from a mare called Lolita who was charging about like a lunatic for the day and shoved me and K against a wall while running through an ice-clad path (she's in heat, so is allowed to get away with it).

They're big animals but just like big kids, but with bigger teeth. And hooves.



* I was talking about this at work not so long ago, only to find that the person I was talking to was really unresponsive. Turns out, she thought I said 'I work at Staples (the stationery store) at weekends' and so had assumed our business was in trouble....

**It's an anorak. I only have a certain number of clothes etc here. The fact I turn up with this has been a constant source of amusement within the stables.