Tuesday 8 September 2020

Taffy (Midnight Magic) the pony who changed all our lives

 

There are no words.

I feel like a huge chunk of my heart has broken off and it can never be fixed.

It’s like losing a member of our family, but not just any relative, it’s like losing the heart of our family. Taffy was, undeniably the heart of my family.

Taffy was like the parent who you knew would always love and nurture you and never abandon you.
He was the brother who inspired you but called you out on your mistakes.
He was the life-long friend who always had time to listen to you, who was always there when you needed him and never let you down.
He was the partner you needed no words to talk to, who was always honest and never judged.

Taffy was my first pony.

I’d had a 6 month lease on one of my riding instructors ponies, “Bretley” but I was now 10 years old and I was ready for my own pony to learn from, to train and to continue my riding passion with.

Phil Orchard purchased Taffy for us whilst we were away on a family holiday. The day we got back, we went straight to the stables to meet him. It was dusk and the light was fading. He was already out in the “35 acres” with the other ponies when we arrived. He was almost black, with the faintest of grey flecks throughout his body with the exception of his rump which had a thicker, fuller coat and was white and round like the moon. I had been reading a book at school called “midnight magic” that was about a pony and the moment I saw him I knew he would be my “midnight magic”.


His blue roan colour varied season by season, at times he was almost black with the faintest of grey flecks through his body which gave him an almost blue colour. Some winters he was almost white with black splotches that looked more like an appaloosa pony and when you clipped his coat in winter you were never sure if you were going to find a contrasting white, grey or black area!


 

 



 

He has a small white star on his forehead which was only visible when his impressive bufont forelock was trimmed enough to show it. The grey colouring of his coat gave him a refined look even in his youth and had the added effect that as he aged well into his thirties, he never looked old in any way.

 

When I got him in 1993, we were both 10 years old. A welsh section b pony, about 13.2 hands tall. He had a cheeky face and a disliking for being caught. There was many a day when I come back from the field, head collar in hand, crying after trying and failing to catch him in from the field. Phil was never one to mince her words, and told me to get back out there and keep trying “that pony came from a place where he was unappreciated and unloved, all he needs is for you to love him!”

I gradually got better at catching Taffy but he already had a new trick up his sleeve, one that involved waiting until I’d come through the first gate into the “clover field” (all the fields at Stone Dean had the best names) and then pulling away from me and running off with either his rope in tow, or, when I managed to hang on, me skiing along the grass behind him. But I never forgot Phil’s words and I loved him with all my might and very soon, he decided I might just be worth loving back.

Taffy also had a bit of a reputation for being a Houdini! He could escape from any stable or corral even if it had a safety kick lock at the bottom. One day, on arriving at the stables it transpired that Taffy had decided he didn’t want to stay in the stable overnight over something as insignificant as a bruised sole and let himself out his stable and proceeded to pull out all of Phil’s pansies from her beautiful pots and hanging baskets and I was told I would not be doing any riding until I had repotted and replanted them all in their correct containers. But, my days at Stone Dean where some of the fondest and happiest memories of my life.

All day, all weekend we’d be at the stables. When we weren’t riding, jumping in the fields, cantering through the bottom woods, we were grooming, washing, braiding, cleaning hooves, cleaning tack, feeding, mucking, rag-worting, the days were always full and usually with my best friend Victoria Phillips and her pony “Bretley” (the same pony I had leased for 6 months prior to getting Taffy).


 

When we were 12 and finishing middle school we had our big exam called “The 12 Plus”.
If you passed it meant you got to go to a grammar or “high” school and if you failed you went to secondary school. On the day of my 12 plus exams my lucky charm was a photo of me riding Taffy in the Clover field jumping the upright barrels. Victoria and I had agreed on the day we got our results that if we passed we’d go for a victory gallop in the 35 acres to celebrate and if we failed we would still go for a gallop together on our ponies to remind us what was really important.

Taffy and I loved jumping the best. We would hack to the local “South Bucks Riding Club” shows at Grove Farm, be there the whole day doing 2 or 3 jumping classes and probably a few extra clear round practises too, before riding home again at the end of the day. I cannot remember a single time when Taffy had a pole. We were always clear and always in the jump off and rarely came home with anything less than a second place rosette. 




When it was jump off time, we had a secret signal. As the stewards rang the bell to start, I’d give Taffy a light tap with my crop on his shoulder and then he knew it was jump off time. I only had to look at the next fence and Taffy was already going there and sorting out his stride. He’d take strides out horse sized related distances and turn on sixpence on the landing side to cut the corner to the next fence.

When we lined up for our placings, if, by some chance, someone had been faster than us and we’d come in second, Taffy would try to overtake the first placed horse on the lap of honour, sure there must have been some mistake as he felt it was his right, to lead every lap of honour, which, most of the time, it was!


We’d take part in all the schooling days. Taffy was usually the only pony in his group and we usually ended up giving the proper horses a lead over the gigantic ski jump or over the open hedge. Taffy would have tried to jump the moon if I’d have asked him to.

The spring was filled with open shows, the summer was eventing and gymkhana (of which Taffy won the chase me Charlie one year being the only pony to clear 4”1’!) and the autumn was for hunter trials.

 

We became so well known on the local circuit that people who’d seen us arrive would ask the secretary which classes we were entered in and then switch classes to give themselves a better chance!


 

Taffy and I affiliated to “the British Showjumping Society” or BSJA as it was called then. We would travel a lot further to go to the BSJA shows but by far our favourite venue was Smith’s Lawn which took place in Windsor Great Park, on the outskirts of Windsor Castle. There were three senior rings where I would often see my idols from the Showjumping world competing, and one ring for juniors (under 16’s). Sometimes there were even some carriage driving horses nearby or a polo match taking place across the driveway. 


Taffy though retained his cheeky streak! He had an uncanny ability to nip out the side of the trailer ramp as you were loading, he’d turn his shoulder away from you and you had no chance of holding on. It was his most favourite trick and he only ever did it on the way home from the show, never quite ready to call it a day. One of my most embarrassing memories was 12 year old me sprinting as fast as my tiny legs would carry me, trying to catch up with my naughty little pony, fully kitted out in travel rug, travel boots, tail guard and head collar and lead rope flying in the wind behind him, desperately trying to catch my pony who had decided he was going to participate in his first polo match and bringing the entire match to a stand still.

We were often against some very experienced partnerships with very, very expensive ponies but Taffy was quite literally, priceless and we almost always beat them all in our classes of “British Novice” and “Discovery”. When we quickly achieved our 4 double clears in the British Novice we qualified for one of approximately 6, regional British Novice finals. Our closest was in Norfolk so we set off for the long drive, not really sure what to expect.

 

When we arrived, the increase in the fence size was drastic and I wasn’t even sure if Taffy was going to be able to make it over the first round, let alone when they put them up in the second and third round (at a regional you had to jump 2 clear rounds of increasing size to get to the jump off) and there were over 80 other competitors in my class, with only the top 3 qualifying to go to the National finals in Staffordshire. Mum helped me tack up and get changed and Dad polished my boots and picked out Taffy’s feet before we went in. For the first time in my life I felt Taffy stretching to reach the back pole of the oxers but in his usual style, he never touched a pole. By the time we got to the jump off there were less than 20 competitors remaining. We cut every corner and jumped every fence on the angle to come home with a second placing and a ticket to the nationals.

We didn’t do as well at the finals sadly as I made a stupid mistake and went flying over Taffy’s ears in style, but whilst I was riding, someone approached my Dad and offered him £8,000 to take my Taffy home with them from the show. After the class Dad told me what had happened and my heart sank as I knew, £8,000 was a lot of money to my family, especially for a cast off pony we’d paid little over £1,000 for. When I asked Dad how he had responded he told me, in these exact words “I told him, Taffy is a part of our family, and we would never sell him”. It was at that exact moment that I realised I had the greatest parents in the world.

Many years later the quote got repeated and Dad added that he would sell one of his daughter before he sold Taffy!

When I went to high School, we were on the school riding team although there was only 4 of us and I was the only one on a pony, which meant I had to compete on the senior team with the horses.

I remember vividly at a team event at Stoneleigh Park where the rain was non-stop and torrential and the course was almost two feet deep in mud and getting deeper with each subsequent competitor. I looked on at my team mates screwing giant metal studs into their horses shoes and had no idea what they were doing as I’d never seen or heard of putting studs in before. All the teams who jumped clear in the first round had to select one combination to represent them in the jump off. Taffy and I were selected and despite the waterlogged conditions and no studs, Taffy delivered another perfect clear. We also fulfilled another of my childhood dreams by getting to compete at the world famous All England Showjumping Course at Hickstead, home to the Hickstead Derby. All competitors got to ride around the main arena in their lap of honour at the end, and I actually got to ride past the most famous of fences I’d watched on TV such as the “Devils Dyke” and the infamous “Hickstead Derby Bank”.

 

After school, when Taffy lived up the road from Stone Dean in “the station field” I would get off the bus outside his field, and ride him down the road to the stables in my uniform, in a headcollar and sat on top of his mud coated New Zealand rug to get an extra ride in after school.

When we were about to leave on a 2 week family holiday, I would wake up at 4 am, sneak out the house and ride my bike down to the field to give Taffy an extra carrot and a kiss goodbye and tell him I’d be back in a few weeks but that I’d miss him every day I was away. Then I cycled home, climbed back into bed and my parents were none the wiser.

When I eventually grew too big for Taffy he went on to be my middle sister’, Natalie’s pony. He always had a cheeky streak and Natalie has a few scars to prove it and on more than one occasion ditched Natalie in the wood and cantered back to his stable with Natalie running for dear life after Taffy, terrified that I would never forgive her! Natalie enjoyed several seasons competing with Taffy, usually dressed in my hand me down show gear that was still slightly too big for her.

 


Chloe, my youngest sister was only 3 years old when Taffy came in to our lives and she cannot remember life before him. She got a jump start on riding being the youngest (I didn’t get my first riding lesson until I was 8) and she had already been competing on her little palamino pony “Indie” before she was big enough to take on Taffy. There was a brief period when Chloe and Natalie were actually competing against each other on Indie and Taffy respectively! 

Taffy was never the type of pony who was sad or sorry, apart from the odd bruised sole I don’t think he had a day of lameness in his life until last year. We had many happy years together at Widmer Stables in Seer Green with Taffy, Frosty and Donald and then later my ex-racehorse Guinness. Minnie Smith, Elanor McFarmlane and Sasha Dawson-smith all enjoyed the experience they got from leasing Taffy (although he always remained in our care) and all three will accredit Taffy with being instrumental in their lives for teaching them so much and giving them a lifelong passion for horses.

 


 

When my son Joshua was big enough, he learnt to ride on Taffy. Jodie Maile gave him his first riding lesson on Taffy on the lunge and taught him how to do a rising trot. It wasn't long before Joshua was trotting around the arena by himself. Even though Taffy was a very extroverted pony with a lot of "go", he always took the best care of Joshua, who'd he'd watched grown up from a baby.

 




 
Joshua even rode through the woods with me on Guinness and Grandad Adams walking alongside us with our westie “Lilly”.

 Joshua even did his first show with Taffy at the Chalfont Heights Riding Club open show where they took part in the "Handsomest pony" class and the "Pony the judge would most like to take home" class which, they of course won :-)



Christmas Day was always one of my most favourite days of the year and as our family life revolved around horses, so too did Christmas Day. After breakfast, the whole family would head to the stables to take care of the horses and it was the one day a year when my Dad joined us on a ride. Kitted out in thermals, hi-viz and occasonaly some tinsel and a pair of antlers, we went on a family hack together.



When my parents retired and immigrated to Southern France with my youngest sister Chloe, Taffy went with them, with Chloe’s horse Beanie and Natalie’s horse Frosty also. 


 

Eventually they purchased land adjacent to their house, built beautiful stables and were finally able to fulfil our dream of having the horses at home.

He fell completely in love with Chloe’s plus 17 hand grey mare Beanie and they were always turned out together and stabled next to each other.

 


When I married and moved to Los Angeles with my husband, my rising 2 year old “Peroni” went to live with them in France also. Taffy was still being ridden around the French countryside almost daily and Chloe rode Taffy to teach Peroni to “pony” out on trail. When I backed Peroni, Chloe and Taffy accompanied us on our first trail rides. He was the never-ending teacher.

 

One of my most favourite things about Taffy was that he was always aware of the ability of his rider. He took care of me more times than I can count when I was young, and was the angelic schoolmaster for my young son Joshua, and yet, when one of us now grown up girls rode him on a hack around the French countryside, he conveniently lost all brakes and speed control and often wouldn’t stop galloping for several miles, jumping ditches between fields until he decided it was time to slow down! 


When Chloe would take Beanie out for a ride, Taffy would call for her until he came back, and then if he wasn’t next tacked up for his exercise, he would kick his stable door until Chloe gave in and took him for a ride. Only when Natalie or I came to visit were they able to ride out together and going out on a hack with my sister on Taffy was the epitome of the feeling of “coming home”.

 



Chloe took the best care of Taffy his entire life. He was treated like the royalty he was. His mane was always trimmed and tidy, his blankets and saddle cloths and tack routinely cleaned. In the winter his coat was clipped and his legs always wrapped to prevent against mud fever when we was in the fields. He still retained his ability to catch us out occasionally when we were bringing him in from the field and would make a sneaky dash to get the lead rope from our hands and take off either to find a few mouthfuls of extra long grass or to flatten some of the neighbours crops!



Last year, at the age of 35, Taffy, being his usual Taffy self, whilst refusing to walk and cantering on the spot on the road home, slipped and dislocated his hip. The vet said it would never go back in and that he would never be ridden again but he may come back enough to enjoy being turned out in the field at a walk. Taffy obviously had other idea. During his recuperation, whilst in a smaller section of field to encourage Taffy to be sensible, Chloe called me to tell me he wasn’t being a very good patient but by about the 5th canter circle he looked almost sound!

We never rode him again but he lived a life of absolute pampered luxury. A huge grassy field with his girlfriend in the day, an immaculate comfy bed in his stable beside Beanie at night. He had up to three layers under his New Zealand blanket in the coldest of snowy months in France, and the lightest of quality fly sheets and mask to keep him unirritated in the summer months. When it was too hot to be out in the sun, he happily basked in the breeze of his fan in front of his open stable door.

 

Sadly, in August 2020, Taffy reinjured his dislocated hip, and without the supporting muscle he had before, he was in too much pain for us to watch him suffer through the recuperation again....

Every significant horse in my life had a special song than represented our time together. Taffy and my song was always “I’ll be there” by the Jackson 5. In my mind it was always me singing to him that no matter what, I would be there for him. Now looking back, I realise there was never a time when he wasn’t there for me too and he truly did fill my heart “with joy and laughter”.

My Guinness and Mum’s horse Hero were never actually at Stone Dean Farm with Frosty, Donald, Yoko and Indie, where my riding path began and where I first met Taffy, but in my mind this is where they have all gone to wait for us at the end of the rainbow bridge. Much alike Black Beauty reminiscing about being back in his youth, running and playing with his friends in the green pastures at Birtwick Park, I’m sure that Taffy, who is the oldest and undoubtedly wisest of our horses has gone to join our others who we’ve had to say goodbye to in our lifetimes. Donald was my first horse and he had all the character and nobility in the world, Guinness was my heart horse and my soul mate of horses. And yet somehow saying goodbye to Taffy is even harder.

I’m grateful that Mum and Dad, Natalie and Chloe were all with him, but simultaneously heartbroken that I couldn’t be there by his side. He was never the most cuddly of ponies and his reputation was too important to him to let you cuddle him in public or in front of other horses, but behind the closed door of his stable he might occasionally let you have a snuggle. I had a heart-breaking conversation with Chloe before, where I told her she had to be strong and not matter how painful it felt, and how much she wanted to break down, she needed to be strong for Taffy and be with him until the end. 

On Saturday 15th August, in the arms of my sisters Natalie and Chloe and my mother, they gently lowered him into the shaving of his stall. Chloe held him and whispered to him that I loved him and that I was with him, even from the other side of the world, he was in my heart.

I genuinely thought he would be in our lives until his fifties. Aside from his less than perfect teeth he was still the picture of health. I never really accepted that someday this day would come. I’ve known him longer than my husband, he’s lived more than twice the lifetime that my son has so far, and I owe him everything. I am the person I am today because of Taffy and there will never ever be another like him. The pony with a true heart of gold. 

Rest in peace my Midnight Magic. You were so increibly loved by so many and there will never be another like you but I pray we meet again, in this lifetime or the next. x



 

 

Wednesday 23 October 2019

From an economics podcast - to an obstacle play day - to how we structure our training sessions with our horses

To be honest, I'd totally forgotten I even had a blog! It just hasn't been on my list of priorities for a while, but today I had a particularly thought provoking day which I shared with two of my clients during their lessons but I suddenly felt the need to share my little bit of perspective and my blog seemed like the best forum in which to share to anyone who is interested.

Whilst standing next to a horse obstacle known as "the car wash" (basically an archway with bits of crepe paper hanging from it) with my client Gail this afternoon and chit chatting I began to tell the story....

It all started in the car this morning. 
I had more miles than usual to cover today with an 8am lesson in Moorpark followed by two further sessions at my daily base in Shadow hills, California. As such I was driving my husbands, more economic, Tesla today and I began listening to a podcast he had been listening to yesterday. This might seem a bit long winded but hear me out....

I am not a podcast person. I always listen to music when I'm driving and I like to relax and sing along and use my brain for concentrating on the road, but today I found myself listening intently to a podcast about, of all things, the marketplace, industry and topics affecting the current American economy. Not a subject matter I usually take much interest in for sure!

However, the tone of the speakers, the little intermission jingles, the occasional advert, the distinct segments that made up the several topics, all delivered in an engaging and aurally pleasing 30 minute package started a stream of questions firing off in my head....

Mostly, how on earth does a producer orchestrate a mini masterpiece into a 30 minute podcast? What percentage of the podcast is allocated to advertising so as to allow the podcast to be profitable without discouraging the listener from listening in the first place? Why waste 15 seconds on a jingle with no words? When each topic is only given, say, 5 minutes, why waste any of those minutes on chit chat? 

I know that if I were a podcast producer I would want to cram as much information and as many points across as I could within the allotted time frame but I recognise, that's why I'm not, a podcast producer . That the finesse is in being able to deliver thought provoking points in palatable pieces, with a moment or two, to let that thought sit with you, and to reflect on that piece of information. 

"Engaging"
That is the important piece that makes you want to listen to another one, because you are able to take away a question or a thought and apply it to your point of view, how it maybe affects you or contemplate how it might affect others and that is what makes it "engaging" rather than just someone spouting information that you may or may not "process". Conversations between 2 or more people are naturally engaging because as a listener we feel included, as opposed to listening to a monologue. That 15 second jingle actually serves a highly important role, in not only separating the previous topic from the next, but to give you a moment to ponder that last topic and what it means to you.

All these questions led me to look at my "training" sessions with my horses, and with my clients and their horses, and consider how I structure those sessions.

I don't have pre-prepared lessons plans or specified things I want to "achieve" or "do" and I usually just "wing-it" which, my UKCC level 2 equestrian coaching certification might not very much like, but I am always intently listening to the feedback I am receiving from my clients and their horses and structuring each of their sessions on that basis. I might start out with one idea of something to play with and then the session takes a different direction and that's the direction we continue along.

"Coaching", "riding instruction",  "horse training", are all people concepts and as people, we are always thinking about that direct line approach, about how to get from point A to B, how to "tick that box" but horses do not think this way at all.

Obstacle Play Day
This weekend, I am organising an "obstacle play day" at our equestrian centre. It's a lot of fun and it's open to all our boarders and clients and friends to participate in, regardless of their chosen equestrian discipline or their experience level. In it, we set out various obstacles, (like an obstacle course for horse and rider, or horse and handler) to negotiate. That may be a tarp on the floor to walk over, or a pole to sidepass along, or a "car wash to walk under". 

The purposes of an obstacle play day are: 
  • To have fun! It's not called a play day for no reason, (that's why we have horses in the first place right? to get enjoyment from it? which can easily get forgotten when we start compounding pressure on ourselves to 'achieve')
  • To expose the horses to new sights and sounds that they may not have experienced before which should, in turn, broaden their knowledge base of 'things' they've interacted with and.....
  • Thus build their confidence in both themselves and their rider/handler. This in turn...
     
  • builds on the partnership between the rider/handler and horse, that the horse recognises that we want to keep them safe and that we can make responsible decisions and can be trusted.
But, one point that easily gets overlooked is.....
  • That it's not about ticking boxes! It's not about 'getting' your horse to walk over the tarp or under the carwash or stand on the pedestal! 
  • It is about the intricate communication between the horse and their partner, about listening to what the horse is saying through their body language about what they are or aren't comfortable with. It's about being able to communicate what you would like the horse to try to do, and encouraging them when necessary, with just the right amount of pressure that they are willing to try, without feeling forced. It's about recognising what the horse may be capable of, with that particular obstacle, on that particular day. 

The accomplishment comes in being highly attuned to these micro-conversations, and adapting accordingly. Balancing praise with pressure, moments where you ask for something and moments when you ask for nothing. It's about getting out of our human 'straight-line thinking' brains and revelling in every minute of communication, positive or negative! 

An NLP phrase that I have clung on to since I first heard it and is so relevant in all aspects of our lives not only the equestrian parts is:


"There is no success or failure, only feedback"

and if we are able to stop being so judgemental of ourselves and our horses, we can accept all the feedback we get without compartmentalising it into a 'success' or a 'failure'.


Believe me when I say none of us are angels 
and I can be just as much like a dog with a bone when there's a particular thing I'm working on with my own horses, and I will practise and practise and wonder why I am not getting any better or showing any improvement on the thing I'm trying to work towards.

Being able to coach other people is my cure because I can look at a clients situation and know the exact direction to take, and then when I take a step back and look at myself with those same eyes, I can recognise that what I actually need is a taste of my own medicine and to listen to my own advice!

Engaging Sessions
Going full circle back to my initial topic, the podcast producer.... I realised, that without ever meaning to, but by following my gut and going with the flow in my lessons I was actually doing the same as the podcast producer and delivering an aesthetically pleasing and palatable session with easily digestible, bite sized pieces of information, thus making my client and their horse look forward to our next session and not just enduring it, in the same way as the podcast producer had done.




Gail, her horse "Atarah" and the 'car wash' aka how to structure an engaging Podcast?
Whilst Gail and her horse 'Atarah' and my other client Roxanna, are intently listening to my long winded story, standing beside the 'car wash' I recognise all the similarities. The task at hand is "the car wash" of which Atarah is somewhat sceptical.

We asked her to come and stand near it by giving her direction, and she walked as close as she felt comfortable and we praised her.
This is the podcast headline, telling you what is going to be coming up in this next 30 minute package.


We then proceeded to 'chat' a while which, although it might seem like were not actually working on the carwash, we are actually relaying to Atarah the energy that we're completely comfortable by or even under the car wash, and, for the most part ignoring her, whilst we chat, thus giving her the time and space to 'take in' the obstacle in front of her without actually asking her to do anything at all. 
This is the chit chat like conversation at the beginning of the podcast which invites you to participate and helps you feel comfortable with the tone of the hosts.

The next step is to refocus our attention on Atarah and look for the feedback. If we place a little 'feel' or draw on the rope and ask her to come closer to the car wash how does she react? 
Her eye gets wider and she steps back, away from the car wash. This tells us she is not yet ready to get closer to the car wash and we are respectful of that. At the same time we want to encourage her to at least try something, and, as I would do when teaching a green horse on it's first time cross-country schooling about how to negotiate a step or a ditch fence, I want the horse to feel "un-stuck" but without actually asking the horse to do what it's not ready to do. 


Our A to B human straight line thinking brains think that we're either going closer or further from the goal but this is often the trick we are missing! 

So instead, just as I would do on a cross country course, we ask Atarah to step sideways. With a ditch fence you might walk along the length of the fence or step side to side along it without putting a 'forward' pressure on. This allows the horses to move and become "un-stuck" without pushing it to do what it's not yet confident to do. 

So Atarah steps sideways from one side of the carwash opening to the other, and we praise her, give her a piece of carrot and give her a moment to contemplate what just happened.
This is the little jingle in the podcast which, seemingly has no purpose, but actually has a whole lot of meaning! It's
the moment of light relief where we can just sit with what just happened or was discussed.

As much learning happens during the release of the pressure as when we put on the pressure or the 'ask'! Atarah breathes and relaxes a little! Positive Feedback! Hooray!


Again, we ask her to step side to side and she is comfortable to do so. We praise her and maybe give her a little carrot as a reward and give her a second. She's starting to think this whole car wash business isn't so worrying at all and actually it's quite engaging!

Without even realising it, with a couple of asks of 'side to side', Atarah is now head and neck halfway through the car wash, with crepe paper and all sorts blowing around her head and withers and her expression is saying "what next?" with interest and enthusiasm!

Without going out of our way to complete the obstacle, not only have we done so, but we've gained a huge amount more in experience, feedback, confidence, curiosity and enjoyment, which in my eyes far outshines any tick in the box.


So if there's one point I'd like you to take away from this very long-winded and somewhat meandering blog (lol!) it's to celebrate every little victory and accept all the feedback, good and bad as a valuable learning experience :-)

I'm sure on Sunday we will see a huge scope of horse and participant, confidence and competence levels, but I for one will be encouraging every one to cheer just as loudly for the horse that couldn't be within 10 feet of the carwash at the start and is now only 4 feet from the car wash with a look of relaxation and achievement on their faces, as those who are challenging their already advanced experience to refine and extend their ability, whether it be by riding on a looser rein or bridleless!