Off-the-farm work has simply been eating up my writing time! I’m happy to say, however, that I managed to ride despite the recent weather. Today, under blue skies, with a balmy breezey temperature somewhere in the fifties, Final Call and I went for a jog around the paddock, his hooves squashing into the wet ground, leaving behind black ovals in the clean grass.
And what a jog it was! There are rides that you remember with fondness, like a particularly nice cruise around the southern Caribbean, or a romantic dinner by candlelight, possibly ending with some sort of proposal. There are rides that you remember pleasantly, like a really good movie you’d like to watch again. And then are rides that make you want to beat your head against a wall.
Okay, so it wasn’t that bad. Bless him, it’s not his fault Mummy was watching the 2009 Eventing Nations Cup before she rode. But maybe, just an attempt to bend at the trot, just a teensy little try, wouldn’t have killed him? I’m just saying.
He walked out lovely, I must say. I dropped my stirrups a hole (and it’s amazing how just one inch’s difference can make you completely sore) and managed to get some bend at the walk. But it’s just all another good example of how you can never set your expectations too high. . . or possibly, low enough.