She's here!
The pony arrived! We hung about nervously all day and finally got the call around 2. Off we went to the stables and found that our favourite riding school cob, Joe, had been turfed out of his stable into the field to make room for her – he was staring bitterly over the fence (a lovable thug with a hogged mane). I was still sweating on Pat taking one look and barking ‘Too small!” -the last potential pony we had on spec seemed to have shrunk 4 inches when it came to Pat’s inspection, but this one stepped nicely down the ramp, tossed her head and stood as tall as 14.2 hands allows (i.e. not very, but believe me, they all look huge when you’re the one holding the headcollar.)
I stood by while J forked over the stable straw, filled a haynet and buckets of water – these are all simple skills any Pony-Mum is expected to learn, but you will know just how novice I am when I say that to welcome the new pony I was wearing a white jacket with pale pink embroidery. This was not a smart move, and I felt like Margot in the Good Life as I teetered about bearing buckets and armfuls of straw, brushing haybits and slobber off my coat. This must be why all country people wear those greasy green things that cost about £200 and make you look like a fisherman.
The pony looked as beautiful as we remembered, especially with her dainty head poking out next to Fred the walleyed cob, and was as friendly as you could hope, sweet and easy to manage in the stable, not like the one who chased me round the stable once baring his big teeth and throwing up his back legs.
The first financial shock of the pony-owning experience came when I telephoned for some insurance for the trial week: everyone recommended the NFU and breezily said ‘a week will cost about a fiver’ – I ended up agreeing to £280 a year for quite basic cover of liability, limited vet’s expenses, and pony death. This does, it’s true, work out to not much more than the promised £5 a week – but it sure as heck sounds it, and had to be glossed over for Reluctant-Pony-Dad’s benefit since I had told him ‘about £50 pa’.
We spent most of the day settling her in, dashing off to F.O.X saddlery to buy last-minute essentials like a rosepink numnah and some glittery Hoof Oil, but J did take her for a little ride around the school. Here those advertised ‘flowing paces’ were in evidence, though she was clearly nervous, but not half so nervous as I was when the stable girl handed me the keys to the tackroom and showed me with 15 cursory flicks of the wrist how to set the alarm system when we left. This terrifed me so much I was a trembling wreck. We are still very much newbies as livery-owners and not at all sure of the simplest protocol, such as ‘can we just ride into the school to use it when no-one else is? Is there a booking system? Do Lady Carrington-Smythe and her 17-hand dressage horse get preference?’ The trouble is there are just too many questions and we can’t be a nuisance and pester someone every time we have a simple query like ‘can we take any colour water bucket?’ This is where a printed sheet of guidelines would be very handy, but no such thing exists. We’ll have to lurk a lot, peer beady-eyed at the oldtimers, and try to pick things up as we sneak about.
Pat was busy all day and has as yet not seen her. So we’re still sweating.
The pony’s name is still under discussion. Her show name is Pure Assonance, but clearly Assy will not do for a short. We are considering Whispa.
I stood by while J forked over the stable straw, filled a haynet and buckets of water – these are all simple skills any Pony-Mum is expected to learn, but you will know just how novice I am when I say that to welcome the new pony I was wearing a white jacket with pale pink embroidery. This was not a smart move, and I felt like Margot in the Good Life as I teetered about bearing buckets and armfuls of straw, brushing haybits and slobber off my coat. This must be why all country people wear those greasy green things that cost about £200 and make you look like a fisherman.
The pony looked as beautiful as we remembered, especially with her dainty head poking out next to Fred the walleyed cob, and was as friendly as you could hope, sweet and easy to manage in the stable, not like the one who chased me round the stable once baring his big teeth and throwing up his back legs.
The first financial shock of the pony-owning experience came when I telephoned for some insurance for the trial week: everyone recommended the NFU and breezily said ‘a week will cost about a fiver’ – I ended up agreeing to £280 a year for quite basic cover of liability, limited vet’s expenses, and pony death. This does, it’s true, work out to not much more than the promised £5 a week – but it sure as heck sounds it, and had to be glossed over for Reluctant-Pony-Dad’s benefit since I had told him ‘about £50 pa’.
We spent most of the day settling her in, dashing off to F.O.X saddlery to buy last-minute essentials like a rosepink numnah and some glittery Hoof Oil, but J did take her for a little ride around the school. Here those advertised ‘flowing paces’ were in evidence, though she was clearly nervous, but not half so nervous as I was when the stable girl handed me the keys to the tackroom and showed me with 15 cursory flicks of the wrist how to set the alarm system when we left. This terrifed me so much I was a trembling wreck. We are still very much newbies as livery-owners and not at all sure of the simplest protocol, such as ‘can we just ride into the school to use it when no-one else is? Is there a booking system? Do Lady Carrington-Smythe and her 17-hand dressage horse get preference?’ The trouble is there are just too many questions and we can’t be a nuisance and pester someone every time we have a simple query like ‘can we take any colour water bucket?’ This is where a printed sheet of guidelines would be very handy, but no such thing exists. We’ll have to lurk a lot, peer beady-eyed at the oldtimers, and try to pick things up as we sneak about.
Pat was busy all day and has as yet not seen her. So we’re still sweating.
The pony’s name is still under discussion. Her show name is Pure Assonance, but clearly Assy will not do for a short. We are considering Whispa.
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