Mouthy Mondays

We seem to have a few new readers. Yip!
I thought I would explain some of the Mouthy Mondays guidelines, as a refresher for a lot of us and as new information for those who are interested.

I love stories. I like telling them, sharing them and hearing them. Mouthy Mondays is your chance to share.

It's all about the story here. Please don't duck out on telling us a good tale because you're afraid of your ability to write. This is a conversation and and if there is an argument or criticism from the readers it will be about content or opinion, won't be about how it's presented.

The only editing I ever do is to break things up into easy to read, short paragraphs. I hit spell check too, in case you forgot. That's all.

I have never had to edit the comments before, although I may have spammed a malcontent or two, but I'll start if the comments take a turn to the fugly, er, ugly. We disagree, argue and discuss here, but we don't attack. Ever.
 Let us know who you are, give me your blog or site address and we'll make sure to post it.
So feel safe and please share. We can't wait to read your stories.

This story comes from Kelly.

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I first got on a horse at the age of 6. His name was Ginger and he was beautiful. Though I didn't ride with him long (we moved country) I rode on and off constantly from that time, but somehow I never became properly "into horses" until I reached the relatively late age of 17.


This was also when I realised that for all my years of riding I was, essentially, rubbish.


I was looking for activities to boost my University application and a local stables for disabled riders needed volunteers, so I started to work there. This was the first time I'd really spent time looking after and getting to know a small group of horses. I grew to know each little quirk and character. I became steadily more and more obsessed with them. As a lucky bonus for my volunteer work one of the girls who was training to be an instructor used to give me the odd free lesson so she could practice her lesson plans. One day she came out with the words that changed my riding forever "Haven't you been riding since you were like 6?" "Yeah?" "It's just that, well, you really should know a lot more than you do".

I had had my suspicions that the stables where I rode wasn't great, it wasn't easy riding in a group of 13 riders in a 40x20m school, not to mention how often it happened that you would be introduced to a lovely but naughty horse to ride, spend lesson after lesson hitting the dirt and climbing back up, working on this horse with all your heart for the 60minutes you had with him, only to find a few months down the line, when you really thought you were getting somewhere, that the horse was sold and you were to ride a new green thing that they'd bought.


My new school was worlds apart, I'd never actually seen an instructor get on a horse and ride before. Nor had I ever had a lunge lesson. For months my instructor tore apart what I'd been taught; I knew how to sit a buck, I was eager and confident to canter and jump, but I knew none of the basics, the only way I knew to communicate with the horse under me was with huge ungainly kicks and unnecessary yanks of the reins. I was put on horses that knew better, horses who were trained well beyond any standard I'd ever ridden, horses that could teach me.


Then, one lesson, I was introduced to Bottom.


Not the most attractive name for a pony, not the most attractive pony either. He was a scruffy looking chestnut, and he was the most sensitive horse I have ever met. Not his mouth, that was fine, but to weight aids, you could not even glance the wrong way without sending this boy off course. Honest to god I'd be surprised if we spent more than 5 minutes of that first hour together actually going where we were meant to go. Were I more confident in my abilities I probably would have thought him an incredibly naughty horse, but by this point I was quite used to the fact that everything I thought I knew about riding was wrong. Yanking on the right rein and collapsing at the hip had always managed to turn the horses at my old stable right, but Bottom started walking sideways....to the left. I came away from that first lesson determined to figure him out. Up till now I had been merely sitting on horses, but there was a whole world of "real" riding that I didn't know yet, and Bottom was my key!

My instructor was kind enough to put me on him for pretty much every lesson for the next year or so, at first improvement was slow, but gradually I learned to feel where my weight was going, I got a feel for when I wasn't quite centred, when to put more weight onto this seat bone, or into that stirrup. I also learned that he had a wicked buck when he wanted to, and how to make sure he was listening enough to me so that I wouldn't have to experience said buck.

Some time later my instructor decided to hold a small informal dressage competition, open to anyone from our stables. I had never competed in anything before but I decided this was as good a time as any. A year before I would have thought completing any level of dressage test on this wobbly little pony was impossible, I was nearly right, he suddenly decided there were horse eating monsters in the corner of the school (yes, the same one we rode in every Thursday night together) and that the judge would appreciate a show of his jumping abilities...over her foot, which happened to be just sticking into the edge of the school.
Despite it all we placed second; "a good ride on an obviously difficult pony"

There it was; "a good ride". My good ride.


I still don't own a horse, I still spend far more time than any reasonable 22 year old should reading up on horses and dreaming. But one day it will happen. And when it does I'm sure I'll have just as much to learn and relearn as I did 5 years ago!