Kick On! It's The Only Way...

This, pretty much, is what happened to me when I turned up for my usual ride earlier this week at my favourite stables. The girls - all the people who ride regularly with me are female, for such is the way with horses - were bizarrely, uncharacteristically stand-offish. Normally the banter, camaraderie, and general innuendo and filth (girls are like that…) are first class. On this occasion, though, I might almost have not existed.

Soon it became clear what the problem was. “There’s a new horse in the yard. We need someone to ride it. You’ve been volunteered.’

I was introduced to the horse. It had a crap name which I hope they’ll change. But I liked its colourin, its eyes didn’t look mad or evil (very important, a horse’s eyes) and it was only 16 hands so not so far to fall.

Perhaps, had I been more sensible I could have gone: “Wait just a second. This is way above my pay grade. I only learned to ride properly in my 40s, I’m still a total amateur. And here you are telling I’ve got to risk my life not even for free because you’re still charging me £20 for my morning session.”

But the thought never even occurred to me. So many of the things that are truly worthwhile and good in the world - riding schools/livery yards, churches, re-enactment groups, bridge clubs etc - all the things that private individuals do to entertain or edify themselves where the state is not involved, depend on a willingness to do your bit, to go the extra mile, to keep everything running smoothly.

We rode out. I had been instructed to keep well away from the other horses, just as the other riders had all been ordered to keep well away from me. At the end of the ride I discovered why.

It’s an interesting experience riding a completely unknown horse. Early rumours (this is what the buyer had been told when she bought it) was that he was a bit of a dobbin. But I quickly ascertained that this was untrue. Out in the fields at least, he had a very lively walk and I kept having to rein him in and halt him so that the others could catch up.

The others chatted among themselves. I was on my own.

Then I tried him at the trot. Very brisk. I was half-dreading the canter and trying not to because horses can feel your every emotion through your bottom, legs, aura, etc.

Next I had to put him through various tests. How would he react if he got left behind?

Quite badly as it turned out. Some horses like to be in front and this was one of them. If they get left behind they panic and buck. Or they go ‘humpy humpy’, as we term it because it sounds jollier and less scarier. (One of the things horsey people tend to do is determinedly make light of all the scary stuff so that we can delude ourselves that our preferred activity is sane and safe.)

We tried him out in the jumping field. First over some tyres lying flat (Bit hesitant but he didn’t refuse). Then over some tyres on their rim. My professional (lol) estimate that this will be a decent horse once he is bedded in. He has jumped before and is honest, good natured and forward going. But he needs to get used to all his yard companions. And he clearly has spent too much time in indoor schools and not enough in open fields, which is bloody useless if he’s ever going to hunt.

When we got back to the yard I was very relieved to have survived. I don’t want to exaggerate - it was never that bad. But there were moments where I did find myself being reminded of the scenes in Yellowstone where they’re schooling the wildly buckarooing mustangs.

Anything can happen with horses. It’s part of the thrill and why people who choose to become involved with them are almost uniformly mad.

We reached the yard.

I heaved a sigh of relief.

The stables boss greeted me.

“Now you’ve done that we need to spend some time in the indoor school. I’ve laid out some jumps’, she said.

Here’s the lesson I learned. When you’ve been riding for a while, on the same horse which you’ve got to know, you can kid yourself that you are a good rider. But you’re really not. You’re only going to get good if you force yourself into places where you really don’t want to go.

Kick on! It’s the only way.

Article by James Delingpole • 8th December 2022

James Delingpole is a writer, broadcaster and truth seeker. He hosts the Delingpod - the world’s most entertainingly shambolic ‘conspiracy’ podcast.

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