And just when I thought I’ll manage to avoid her for the entire winter … the single most annoying horse owner I know appeared at the stables last night. Irritating daughter in tow. Ok, the daughter has attention deficit syndrome, so she can’t help it. But, sometimes I really can’t be arsed to play babysitter for a hyperactive six year old because her mother has pissed off somewhere round the corner. Mind you, I disapprove of the way that child is handled in the first place. Annoying as they may be, there is no excuse to call your daughter a bitch and a whore. No matter what she does. No wonder the child is deranged. Anyways, moving on. Annoying horse woman. She is one of those people that acquired a horse in some half-arsed rescue mission. Those people that probably shouldn’t have a horse at all. You don’t see her all summer, the pony is dumped in the field and getting obese (last summer he looked like a hippo and waddled). By obese I mean not just a bit porky, but obese in the sense that there could be serious health implications for the poor blighter. The fact said pony also has ‘issues’ (he rears up randomly and can fly off the handle for no reason. He also lacks any sort of manners and displays some very bratty behaviour) doesn’t help either. Rather than trying to sort it out, this woman turns up once in a blue moon and is then surprised the horse still isn’t well behaved. Erm, no, it doesn’t know any better. How can you expect the poor sod to play nicely the ten times a year you actually bother coming up to see him?
Then she went on and on about how she sacked her latest sharer (note to non-horse people: a sharer is someone that rides your horse a couple of times a week and sometimes pays you for the privilege). Said sharer was a really nice and very competent Swedish girl. But annoying woman managed to fall out with her over money. Annoying woman falls out with everyone. So there she is, ranting and raving, completely ignoring the fact I just spent the whole day at work, my head hurts, I am hungry and would like to go home. Cue another rant. This time about her farrier. Well, not really her farrier either, as she just leeches on to whoever has the farrier up when she randomly decides her pony’s feet need doing. No wonder no farrier wants her on his books. She is annoying, the horse is nuts. No idea why she is yelling at me about it though. The farrier doing the no-show isn’t even mine. In fact I’m keeping my farrier’s details from her, because I’d rather he didn’t have to put up with her or her deranged horse.
She then proceeds to give me tips on how to keep my pony healthy. No thanks. Since I actually bother looking after mine and since I’ve been doing horse things since I was about eight, I don’t think I need advice from someone who doesn’t feed their horse properly, bought it a saddle that doesn’t fit on Ebay and relies on other people to look after her pony without doing anything in return … nope. Pull the other one.
I just wandered off with my friend and left her standing there in the end. She wouldn’t stop talking.
Moving on …
Pony Angel and I have found a new nemesis. Melody (why would you call a horse Melody?) arrived some time last week. Rumour has it she was at the yard down the road before. And Sarah heard that ‘the mare is a psycho!’.
Imagine my delight when I took my friend’s horse down to the field and found Melody The Psycho hanging over the gate wanting to leave the field. The gate opens outwards. Melody was pushing at it from inside the field, my friend’s horse got scared and tried to hide behind me (this didn’t work, he’s a big horse!) whilst I fumbled with the chain that holds the gate together. Eventually, after flicking a rope at her numerous times, waving my arms about going ‘SHOO!! MELODY! GET LOST! AWAY! PISS OFF!!’, she sauntered off and I could get my friend’s horse in there.
Then I collected Angel (who by this point was quite pissed off because I hadn’t taken her to the field FIRST) and stuck her in the field, too. Cue Melody running up to her like a crazed Banshee and booting her for no reason. And again. And again. Then Angel had enough, bless her, and went into pony attack mode. Unfortunately, Angel’s co-ordination at times of retaliation is rather rubbish, so it was mainly handstands, pinned back ears and impressive double-barreling of thin air. Still, it was enough to scare of young Melody. Phew.
Later it was time to get Angel and friend’s horse back in from the field. Got Angel out fine. Went back to get the other one. By this point Melody and Grace (the other horse in there) were positively desperate to come in from the field and looming by the gate in a somewhat menacing demeanor. My friend’s horse cowering somewhere in the distance, too frightened to go anywhere near the gate. Great. I had to go INTO the field and try to chase off the unruly lady horses. And somehow retrieve my friend’s horse without the other two legging it out of the gate.
Equipped with a rope, arms flailing and trying to be as scary as possible (the trick is to somehow get the horse to think you’re bigger and stronger than it. I am not very good at this and have previously been informed I resemble a chicken with a death wish when I attempt to outscare horses …) I went in. By this point Melody is busy kicking Grace and I’m stood in a VERY dangerous spot (eg between to horses having a fight. NOT a good idea!). As I attempt to scramble to safety, one of my wellies gets stuck in the mud and comes off. Argh! I hate it when that happens. Lost balance, my socked foot straight into the kneedeep mud. Then this stupid horse decides to make a beeline for me (probably worked out I’m her ticket to freedom because she just saw me opening the gate. Horses can’t open gates themselves, you see). I am beginning to panic at this point. I manage to pull the wellie from the mud but haven’t got enough time to actually put it back on, because this stupid horse is coming straight at me. I somehow managed to not fall over in the mud AND wave the red wellie at her like an idiot, swearing and flicking her with the rope at the same time. Lo and behold! She buggered off. And I managed to retrieve my friend’s horse, put my wellie back on and get him out of that darned field. I really wish people would explain to their delinquent equines that they are supposed to move out of the way when asked by ANYONE. Not just their owners.
And I hadn’t even realized that one of my trouserlegs was covered in mud to just above the knee. This was pointed out to me by the farmer’s kids. Thanks, guys. By this point I really didn’t care anymore and hoisted my muddy trouserleg, mud-encrusted wellies and hat covered in woodshavings onto the bus and went to Sainsburys. The checkout girl looked somewhat disgusted at the sight of me. Oops.
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