We went to Cesca’s parent’s house for the weekend because I’ve been banging on ever since Cesca and I became friends about horse riding and how much I wanted to give it go.
Finally, after two years of going out, she invited me to her parent’s livery for some action.
I was so excited. But it turned out to be a night-mare. Mare. Like the horse. Even in my hour of pain, from my hospital bed, I still pun. Born to pun.
I loved horses when I was a little girl. Had horse posters all over my room, read Jill’s Gymkhana over and over again, and wore my jodhpurs all the time, even when I wasn’t riding. But I grew out of (got thrown in boarding school and couldn’t do it anymore. Then I discovered sex drugs and rock and roll. That was way more fun.) but for years I’ve been yearning to get back in the saddle.
Upon arrival, I hear that the horse I have been assigned won Disabled Horse of the year. Great. And also, he’s been really feisty recently. Er, should I be riding a feisty horse? I haven’t ridden for 15 years.
To be sure, we take Luke to the school first and he is very well behaved. I walked, trotted, and we even went over a few jumps which was pretty exciting.
Then we went on a hack. I expected it to be hours long, that Cesca and I would be side by side, deep in discussion about the meaning of life as the sun shone down on us.
No such luck. We trotted to the end of the lane, then decided to have a go at a canter.
And that’s when Luke decided to go mental and threw me off. I can definitely say that I have never been so terrified in all my life. He threw me forwards so as I landed I saw his back legs coming towards me.
Luckily he didn’t trample on me but galloped off bucking and rearing. Thank god I fell off.
I was so shaken up I was actually shaking for hours afterwards. I have a nice fat bruise where I landed on my back and I just hope I didn’t do any permanent damage. I managed to slip two discs in my back by giving someone a piggy back once so I think the likelihood of being flung from a horse doing some damage is quite high.
The adrenalin rush from the fall left me in tears for ages as I watched my hands shaking like leaves. It was the first time my boyfriend had heard me cry, as I called him for some sympathy. It made me worse as I recounted the tale of my Very Traumatic Experience I just wanted to be with him instead of lying on the floor in a strange house hoping I wasn’t going to spend the next six months in bed like I did after the piggy back.
If you fall off, get back in the saddle, they say. No fricking way. That’s me and horses done with now. Ticked off the list, I think I’ll stick to rock climbing.
Apart from that, I had a great weekend.
On Saturday night we went to the pub in Devizes and got hopelessly drunk on Tequila.
We got home and I passed out in bed. Next thing I know, it’s 7.41 am and I awake to Cesca going ‘er, it’s me in your bed Kim,’ as I tried to put my leg over her. Neither of us could remember how she ended up in my bed, without any pants on. But Mike filled us in. Apparently Cesca had passed out in their bed, fully clothed, then woken up, flung all the books from the bookshelf on to the floor and then taken her jeans off and got into my bed. As you do.
Cesca’s gran is just about the coolest 87 year old I have ever met. She owns two quad bikes. Why do you have a quad bike, I asked. Oh, just for whizzing about the place, she replied. Amazing. I want a quad bike when I’m 87.
Devizes was beautiful, green and spacious. Made me yearn for a place in the country. I want a big old house with an open fire and an old country lane. I want Cesca’s parents house. But without the damn horses.
"The composition of my soul is made, too great for servile, avaricious trade.
When raving in the lunacy of ink, I catch my pen and publish what I think."
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