New Boots for Clyde

As a change from competing at Blade’s Hill, Pony-girl went to the Horse of the Year Show on Sunday – no, no! she and Clyde had not been selected to compete, though Clyde probably thought he was on the team when he heard about the trip: “I’m off to Orse o’ Year Show, Tils! Not before time neivver!" “I fink you got that wrong mah son, unless o'course you’re pullin’ the cart to take ‘em there.” No, this was a Nags’R’Us outing, and Pony-girl arrived home with stars in her eyes from watching the showjumping finals, some dazzling displays including Natural Horsemanship, and of course, 3 hours spent going round the trade stands, her eyes out on stalks at all the wonderful goods on offer. I had cunningly not gone, as where I don’t go, nor does my credit card, a wonderful invention that all teenagers love, because the bill does not have their name on it.

PG came home with a set of four pony travel-boots in burgundy, very smart and quite a bargain. Since we bought Horatio our horsebox and have been going off to competitions most Sundays, we have been using the raffle-prize Winnie-the-Pooh leg bandages to protect Clyde’s legs in transit and frankly, the only good thing about these is that they were free. At the end of the day, everyone else snaps on velcro-ed travel boots, like a team of skilled mechanics slapping on 4 new tyres at a 7 second pitstop and off they go with a gay wave, vanishing swiftly down the road. We’ve hardly started! First the bandages have to be rolled… a simple yet tedious task deemed ideal for pony-mum, although my work usually fails the inspection: “Tighter! Oh that’s hopeless mummy, you’ll have to do them all again!” Then we wrap a sort of foam paving-slab around the first leg: in a sort of cramped half squat, I hold it tight while PG whips the bandage round and round, finishing with Winnie-the-Pooh right over each pony-knee the size of a knobbly pomegranate. The rear legs are less fun: I’m not happy squatting eye to eye with Clyde’s staunch hindquarters (not to mention the large member which may or may not be swinging ominously close to my face) because Clyde occasionally gets an itch in his back foot which sets off a lot of frantic pounding and scrabbling, and something about that lashing leg like a tree trunk topped with a giant iron shoe makes me very nervous. And no-one can say the end result is pretty – the foam padding overspills the bandage here and there and gives the impression of a badly-wrapped piece of furniture you bought for a really cheap price at a garage sale, so we can’t wait for Sunday when he'll sport his new boots for the first time!

Yes, it’s Combined Training at Blade’s Hill and a chance for some more points for their League. No invitation to the awards ceremony on November 25th has yet arrived, but we live in hope! The thing is… it’s not that we need for Pony-girl to win Best Junior Rider, a title she hardly deserves (imagine Pat: ‘you’re ‘avin’ me on, ain’t ya? Pony-girl! Best Junior Rider - ! Lead me away someone, I need a lie down!’) but it’s the thought of our Clyde, the ageing pony who cost peanuts and was reckoned to be nothing more than a riding-school hack, a shabby has-been….. our Clyde who has been steadfast, willing, and the best tutor PG could ever have had….. our little Braveheart who has recaptured something of his youthful glory and shown courage, dash and talent at every turn …. You can see how perfectly wonderful it would be, so sweet a triumph for the underhorse, if he pulled off Best Blade's Pony 2005!