Winning Streak
I have a talent for winning competitions. This is the gift the good fairy dropped in my cradle, eschewing less useful gifts like beauty, charm, wealth, etc, and it makes watching for the postman just that little bit more fun, never knowing what’s going to flop onto the mat. Unfortunately, the bad fairy’s gift was to ensure that all the prizes I win are what that wonderful writer Betty Macdonald called 'toecovers'. Did I win the set of Fusion stable rugs in pink/purple combo from Your Horse magazine? nope, but the runner’s up prize of a hoofpick and under-the-tail wipes? In the bag. The brand new leather saddle at the local saddlery draw? Nope! But hey, those Winnie-the-Pooh leg bandages will look soooo cute on Clyde’s knobbly brown knees. That poem dashed off at 2am one morning for a lingerie store -? the top prize! The top prize in this case was a long, shroud-like nightie and a pair of pyjamas which are brick-red and see-through, though I sense they are not meant to be. My latest entry was for an online wordsearch, with a prize I knew was doomed to be mine win so I cleared a space on the shelf ready. It arrived today – a picture frame, a smiling mummy-pony with her big leg swung around the shoulders of her little foal, and two large holes in their tummies to insert my favoured photos.
Will my winning talent extent to local pony shows? Ohhh, the joy of bringing Clyde home, red-rosetted! The joy of displaying them on the shelf next to Reluctant-Pony-Dad's bowls trophy and the little cup pony-girl won for her Miss Polly Had a a Dolly dance! Talk of competitions has been thin at Nags’R’Us stables, despite my canny questioning, but I recently found a local livery yard which runs monthly mini-showjumping courses. That would suit Clyde perfectly, he is a mini-showjumper himself, and has done jumpoffs aplenty in the past. I see on the online result sheets that several people we know regularly enter these things on ponies just as ordinary as our precious little popsicle, so why not us? Pony-girl is keen as mustard, we have the WTP leg bandages - we’re ready to go!
But ‘go’ is just the problem. How do we go? We don’t own a trailer and RPD has been meanly impervious to hints that we really, really need one. A small, fairly crap one would do – it would go so perfectly with our small, crap car and small, crap pony. But no, we must walk, or beg a lift – “Hey Lady Carrington-Smythe, what say we pop little Clydey-boy in there alongside LordlyOne Champion the 2nd?” You can see the problem here. I don’t even know if the Clyde-PonyGirl team is up to competing in such an event – tho’ the jumps are only 2’-2’3” – Clyde can jump that high. Heck, I can jump that high. But it would be so embarrassing should we express our interest in competing and have everyone roll about laughing. But we are nothing if not resourceful and have come up with a plan. What say we just happen to be passing through the yard when all the show prospects are being loaded into the vans? Imagine our smiles, our brave send-off - “Good luck, good luck everyone! (No, Clyde! Back!) Oh poor Clyde, he thinks he’s going too! Yes, it IS hard for him to see all his friends going but he’ll be just fine, you all have a lovely time now!”
How can they resist? Watch this space - and I'll make a start on clearing that shelf.
Will my winning talent extent to local pony shows? Ohhh, the joy of bringing Clyde home, red-rosetted! The joy of displaying them on the shelf next to Reluctant-Pony-Dad's bowls trophy and the little cup pony-girl won for her Miss Polly Had a a Dolly dance! Talk of competitions has been thin at Nags’R’Us stables, despite my canny questioning, but I recently found a local livery yard which runs monthly mini-showjumping courses. That would suit Clyde perfectly, he is a mini-showjumper himself, and has done jumpoffs aplenty in the past. I see on the online result sheets that several people we know regularly enter these things on ponies just as ordinary as our precious little popsicle, so why not us? Pony-girl is keen as mustard, we have the WTP leg bandages - we’re ready to go!
But ‘go’ is just the problem. How do we go? We don’t own a trailer and RPD has been meanly impervious to hints that we really, really need one. A small, fairly crap one would do – it would go so perfectly with our small, crap car and small, crap pony. But no, we must walk, or beg a lift – “Hey Lady Carrington-Smythe, what say we pop little Clydey-boy in there alongside LordlyOne Champion the 2nd?” You can see the problem here. I don’t even know if the Clyde-PonyGirl team is up to competing in such an event – tho’ the jumps are only 2’-2’3” – Clyde can jump that high. Heck, I can jump that high. But it would be so embarrassing should we express our interest in competing and have everyone roll about laughing. But we are nothing if not resourceful and have come up with a plan. What say we just happen to be passing through the yard when all the show prospects are being loaded into the vans? Imagine our smiles, our brave send-off - “Good luck, good luck everyone! (No, Clyde! Back!) Oh poor Clyde, he thinks he’s going too! Yes, it IS hard for him to see all his friends going but he’ll be just fine, you all have a lovely time now!”
How can they resist? Watch this space - and I'll make a start on clearing that shelf.
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