Took the Boy Wonder to BVRC Hunter Trials at Larkhill a few weeks back.
It was an experience.
Now, Flashman is the biggest dope on a rope at the yard. Placid, biddable dobbin. Any further laid back and he’d be horizontal.
Take it out to a competition and the warm up arena changes him into some form of complete tit.
I decided, having schooled round it and done most of the 100 course there, to go for the 90. He stopped at the biggest Trakehner I have ever seen (and had every right to do so), but flew the 90. So 90 it was.
My Mum, age 70, had never seen me compete before. Hell, she only saw me ride for the first time 2 weeks before. I told her to start the video camera rolling when I was about to leave the warmup. So she did. And I have about 3 seconds of video before he started cooking his lone braincell upon realising that were about to leave the warm up, at which my Mum’s hand holding the camera drops to her side, and she stood there totally slack-jawed and watched the complete berk whilst videoing the grass.
90 second start cue. Awesome. Slow down and ask him to walk out of the arena.
Non comprende.
Ask him to walk on, receive instead: backwards.
Ask him to walk on, receive instead: sideways.
Tap on shoulder, ask him to walk on, receive instead: backwards AND sideways.
Tap on shoulder, ask him to walk on, receive instead: front feet off floor and 90-degree turn.
Smack on shoulder, tell him firmly and through gritted teeth to WALK ON, ask him to walk on, receive instead: “working gallop”.
Circle it tightly, returns to walk, ask it to walk out of the arena. It consents.
30 second start cue. Continue walking for 25 seconds in small circles, enter start box at 3 seconds to go, ask for forwards, receive perfect walk to gallop right on cue. That’s ma boy. <3
Went over the first while asking him what actual breed of dimwit he is. Forgive him somewhere between fence 2 & 3, because he turned into some form of cross country machine/BOSS and was bold and brilliant and brave and just the best fun ever. 3 strides out from the last, realising this was our last XC of the season, and we were going clear make decision to jump the last one-handed.
Good decision. Went over the finish in fits of giggles with the biggest grin.
Took him back to the trailer, back to his normal dobbin self. Mum is besotted with him. I untack, water, rinse, rug up (v windy), have a bite to eat, say to Mum to wait with him whilst I take my number bib back and look at the photos.
Walk to secretary, hand in my bib, go look at photos, buy all the good ones, start walking back to trailer before thinking “I might as well check my time” (there were about 50 in my class), and find out we’d only bagged a blooming SEVENTH PLACE!! Cried happy tears and I went to pick up my rosette.
Got back to find my horse untied, and my Mum parading him round like a blinking Labrador. “Well he was looking for you.” No, he was looking for GRASS. Told her off a bit because he could have easily pulled her over.
But still. What a season.
What. A. Season.
It was an experience.
Now, Flashman is the biggest dope on a rope at the yard. Placid, biddable dobbin. Any further laid back and he’d be horizontal.
Take it out to a competition and the warm up arena changes him into some form of complete tit.
I decided, having schooled round it and done most of the 100 course there, to go for the 90. He stopped at the biggest Trakehner I have ever seen (and had every right to do so), but flew the 90. So 90 it was.
My Mum, age 70, had never seen me compete before. Hell, she only saw me ride for the first time 2 weeks before. I told her to start the video camera rolling when I was about to leave the warmup. So she did. And I have about 3 seconds of video before he started cooking his lone braincell upon realising that were about to leave the warm up, at which my Mum’s hand holding the camera drops to her side, and she stood there totally slack-jawed and watched the complete berk whilst videoing the grass.
90 second start cue. Awesome. Slow down and ask him to walk out of the arena.
Non comprende.
Ask him to walk on, receive instead: backwards.
Ask him to walk on, receive instead: sideways.
Tap on shoulder, ask him to walk on, receive instead: backwards AND sideways.
Tap on shoulder, ask him to walk on, receive instead: front feet off floor and 90-degree turn.
Smack on shoulder, tell him firmly and through gritted teeth to WALK ON, ask him to walk on, receive instead: “working gallop”.
Circle it tightly, returns to walk, ask it to walk out of the arena. It consents.
30 second start cue. Continue walking for 25 seconds in small circles, enter start box at 3 seconds to go, ask for forwards, receive perfect walk to gallop right on cue. That’s ma boy. <3
Went over the first while asking him what actual breed of dimwit he is. Forgive him somewhere between fence 2 & 3, because he turned into some form of cross country machine/BOSS and was bold and brilliant and brave and just the best fun ever. 3 strides out from the last, realising this was our last XC of the season, and we were going clear make decision to jump the last one-handed.
Good decision. Went over the finish in fits of giggles with the biggest grin.
Took him back to the trailer, back to his normal dobbin self. Mum is besotted with him. I untack, water, rinse, rug up (v windy), have a bite to eat, say to Mum to wait with him whilst I take my number bib back and look at the photos.
Walk to secretary, hand in my bib, go look at photos, buy all the good ones, start walking back to trailer before thinking “I might as well check my time” (there were about 50 in my class), and find out we’d only bagged a blooming SEVENTH PLACE!! Cried happy tears and I went to pick up my rosette.
Got back to find my horse untied, and my Mum parading him round like a blinking Labrador.
“Well he was looking for you.” No, he was looking for GRASS. Told her off a bit because he could have easily pulled her over.But still. What a season.
What. A. Season.
