Saddling the Stallion
There was the Gaffer lying in wait to ambush me with a Gaffer-tale:
“Didya hear about yon SILLY WOMAN!”
“No,” I whispered, for the silly woman was standing five feet away, not that that bothers the Gaffer.
Gaffer was looking his best this morning, in a NagsR’Us sweatshirt that lived up to the name, and an extra stain of something sticky down the front. His trousers were held up with baling twine (possibly recovered from the muckheap) and his beady eye glinted with malicious merriment.
“Come for a lesson she did and told she were riding Captain – so into stable she goes – puts headcollar on he – grooms the great bugger top to toe – puts a muckin’ big saddle on he and straps it up nice and tight – gets t’bit into his great jawhole like – leads him out meek as a lamb!”
“I see…..”
Gaffer cackled manically, in a rare old good temper. “Had her foot in stirrup like –and that’s when I sees her and I says ‘You’m in for an excitin’ ride there, lady – thass not Captain, thass BiggUns me young stallion you got there, never bin backed he ain't! HAHA!!” He shook helplessly with mirth and I had to join in - what a dining out story for her! ‘How I saddled up the unbacked stallion and rode him fearlessly out of the yard’!
The Gaffer turned his attention to me, about to step into Horatio our new horsebox for my first drive. “Ye never be gonna driving that!” he unflatteringly gasped.
“I am indeed,” I said confidently, nearly wetting myself with fright. “Yes, I have no fear at all.”
“Ye must be off yer ‘ead, wummun!” Gaffer yelled. “You get that bugger stuck down Neddle Bottom and ye’ll be in ditch arse over tit sooner’n blinking, I seen it ‘appen time an time again, you wummen never can woggle the springersprocket into the clackerknacker afore the crunchentorque goes off the scale like!”
Since this was exactly what I feared myself, my knees weakened and I grasped the Gaffer for support. “It will be just like driving a car,” I stuttered, “That’s what Pat said - ”
Gaffer’s eyes rolled in disbelief: “Pat! What do she know? None ‘o you wummen cain’t drive worth a ha’porth o’beans! Didya hear about the man called his wife on ‘er mobile – ‘Darlin’ he says, ‘be careful out there, there’s a maniac on the motorway driving the wrong way!’ an’ she says,’It’s worse’n that honey, there’s loads of ‘em doin’ it!’“
Despite the Gaffer’s gloomy forecast, Horatio and I got on just fine, once we got over our little misunderstanding with the gears. We loaded Clyde just to see if he liked the look of his new chariot, and he got impatient waiting for us to coax him in with Monty Roberts’ tactics, snatched away the lead-rope and galloped up the ramp ahead of us to see if there was a haybag. Tomorrow I will try a drive with Clyde aboard, and next weekend… we have TWO shows…! The horizon has suddenly stretched – it’s all out there waiting for us…..
“Didya hear about yon SILLY WOMAN!”
“No,” I whispered, for the silly woman was standing five feet away, not that that bothers the Gaffer.
Gaffer was looking his best this morning, in a NagsR’Us sweatshirt that lived up to the name, and an extra stain of something sticky down the front. His trousers were held up with baling twine (possibly recovered from the muckheap) and his beady eye glinted with malicious merriment.
“Come for a lesson she did and told she were riding Captain – so into stable she goes – puts headcollar on he – grooms the great bugger top to toe – puts a muckin’ big saddle on he and straps it up nice and tight – gets t’bit into his great jawhole like – leads him out meek as a lamb!”
“I see…..”
Gaffer cackled manically, in a rare old good temper. “Had her foot in stirrup like –and that’s when I sees her and I says ‘You’m in for an excitin’ ride there, lady – thass not Captain, thass BiggUns me young stallion you got there, never bin backed he ain't! HAHA!!” He shook helplessly with mirth and I had to join in - what a dining out story for her! ‘How I saddled up the unbacked stallion and rode him fearlessly out of the yard’!
The Gaffer turned his attention to me, about to step into Horatio our new horsebox for my first drive. “Ye never be gonna driving that!” he unflatteringly gasped.
“I am indeed,” I said confidently, nearly wetting myself with fright. “Yes, I have no fear at all.”
“Ye must be off yer ‘ead, wummun!” Gaffer yelled. “You get that bugger stuck down Neddle Bottom and ye’ll be in ditch arse over tit sooner’n blinking, I seen it ‘appen time an time again, you wummen never can woggle the springersprocket into the clackerknacker afore the crunchentorque goes off the scale like!”
Since this was exactly what I feared myself, my knees weakened and I grasped the Gaffer for support. “It will be just like driving a car,” I stuttered, “That’s what Pat said - ”
Gaffer’s eyes rolled in disbelief: “Pat! What do she know? None ‘o you wummen cain’t drive worth a ha’porth o’beans! Didya hear about the man called his wife on ‘er mobile – ‘Darlin’ he says, ‘be careful out there, there’s a maniac on the motorway driving the wrong way!’ an’ she says,’It’s worse’n that honey, there’s loads of ‘em doin’ it!’“
Despite the Gaffer’s gloomy forecast, Horatio and I got on just fine, once we got over our little misunderstanding with the gears. We loaded Clyde just to see if he liked the look of his new chariot, and he got impatient waiting for us to coax him in with Monty Roberts’ tactics, snatched away the lead-rope and galloped up the ramp ahead of us to see if there was a haybag. Tomorrow I will try a drive with Clyde aboard, and next weekend… we have TWO shows…! The horizon has suddenly stretched – it’s all out there waiting for us…..
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