Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!
Steady on with the excitement because I can tell you right now I‘m about as whimsical as a dead Duracell bunny.
But, talking of horsey commands…
Just let your feet go clipetty clop
I stayed on my horse and survived. Obviously, since I’m writing here and now. But, you’ll be glad to know it’s not from a wheelchair, though my ability to walk has been severely hampered.
Riding a horse is like doing squats for an hour on a moving object. Going to the gym is easy work by comparison. Apparently, you can’t just sit on a bobo and lose yourself to the wonders of the wilderness. You are required to work. Hard. You can see why cars were invented.
There I sat, straddled across “Marge” the dapple grey in a field full of children. Kids who were cantering and galloping around without an ounce of fear.
“Yeah, but you can’t make a knockout, Spaghetti Bolognese, can ya, kiddo?” I said to the girl holding onto Marge because she was being stubborn. Naturally, since it’s my horse it didn’t want to behave.
I couldn’t possibly show myself up in front of children as an adult and moral guidance to future pioneers, so, I went up and down in that saddle until I went numb with pain.
That wasn’t all. I steered through cones, walked alongside a plank in an awfully bad straight line and learnt to trot all in lesson one. Not only that, in the second hour, I went on what is known as a “Hack” AKA Trotting through the woods where mad people walk their pitbull terriers and tired, screaming toddlers. Horses just love that.
Did you know that you must lean back when going down hill cos you might fall over the horses head if you don’t? And, you have to stand up in your stirrups (despite insane thigh cramping) when your horse goes for a wee.
I don’t believe I have ever been so ungainly in all my life. The first time I got on the horse I nearly went straight over the other side and landed on my head.
Getting off was even worse.
“Take both feet out of the stirrups, Jules”
“Both? Don’t I use my left one for ballast?”
“And what if the horse runs off with your foot still caught in the stirrup as you’re getting off, Jules? Then what?”
Nag, nag, nag… sheesh.
I basically fell off. I have seen sacks of coal delivered more elegantly.
I will, however, master the art of being one with a horse if it kills me. Though I’m hoping it doesn’t. At least over here I get a hard hat, which let me tell you, someone like me needs.
Talking of headaches…
I am currently trying to record myself for some work I’m doing. This involves talking over a video presentation like a boss.
27 attempts at the moment and still no recording.
Do you know how hard it is to read without sounding like you’re reading? Can someone explain to me why just at the point of recording I develop a speech impediment?
And, is it OK to have homicidal feelings toward the Amazon delivery man when he knocks on your front door with a parcel mid-recording? Or visitors that knock on your window to get your attention when they can see what you’re doing? Is it wrong of me to kick an inanimate object like the washing machine when it goes into turbo spin mania? Or throw rocks over the wall at the garden centre next door when they have a skip delivered that shakes my house to its foundations mid-recording? Or curse Siri on my phone when he randomly asks how he can help me OUT LOUD for no apparent reason?
So help me God.
Next week I shall be reporting from sunnier climes and may be in a more convivial mood.