Today I really appreciate Harry, and I never even sat on him!
My nephew’s wife has asked if she could come for a ride. She’s a seriously horsey lady, disguised as a married lawyer with an 18-month-old son who’s admittedly adorable, but she needed an equine fix. She rides Harry, I ride a friend’s horse, another skewbald cob, and what a difference!
Harry is quite jolly, his friend is quite manic, insisting on staying in front, then spooking and refusing to go forward. He bucks if Harry gets too close, every time we go into canter, and part-way through canters, too! His saddle is much too small for me and a dressage one, which of course is not his fault, but I am acutely uncomfortable for most of the ride. Tiki sits back on my great big, squidgy GP and enjoys the scenery. “I’m so glad I’m riding Harry,” she comments as my borrowed cob throws in another buck.
We stop at the pub to greet the family, and Harry stands patiently while various kids climb on and off him. Occasionally he moves, but very slowly and gently, like a tanker turning, and everybody goes ‘whoah’ and hangs on to their drinks. As we lead the cobs home, Harry behaving beautifully with a teenager who used to be terrified of horses, I bless him for being such a steady Eddie.
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