Fellow horse lovers (and those reading to see if I once again have embarrassed myself, this time on an equestrian level): I decided, after months of searching and quite a few experiences, to document my search for a horse. The time has come for me to admit to myself that my days of constant partying and extreme clothes purchasing are over - so I can finally, FINALLY focus on buying a horse. Everything has brought me to this moment, and my oh my....how bloody exciting it is.
When I told my friends (most of whom are married / getting married / settling down / starting families) that I had a big announcement and followed it by "IM HAVING A HOOOOOOORSE" I knew they'd be upset they wouldn't be buying a hat for a fancy day out. But everyone (bar the odd "you can't afford it / you don't have time for it / you can't afford it / you can't afford it" comments) was very supportive. With lungs in my gills and a glint in my eye I started my purchasing with gusto - long before I even started looking for the horse. I got the rugs, I got the tack, I got the boots / training aids / brushes / haynets....I took "buying the bell before the bike" to another level. If that saying actually exists.
I have learnt a few things on my hunt for my baby...I mean horse:
1. When to shut up about my horse hunt (ok, I haven't quite learnt this one yet. Clearly. I'm writing a blog about it......but I'm working on it)
2. My boyfriend and my friends are very, VERY patient
3. Shiny doesn't mean good
4. If the shoe fits....BUY IT BEFORE SOMEONE RIPS IT OUT OF YOUR HAND
5. Patience is a virtue
6. Blood lines mean diddly squat. Of course they are a great thing to go on but they don't always mean you've got a good horse on your hands
7. Horse shopping is HARD, especially if you're an Impatient Inga like myself
8. It seems like there are about 4 stallions doing a LOT of work and breeding every single horse out there.....Donnerhall, Sandro Hit, Flemmingh and Rubinstein. Their names keep appearing over and over and over. Thank goodness for artificial insemination. Poor stallions, overworked and underpaid.
Horse Number One - Harry
OOOOoooohhhh Harry. 16hh Thoroughbred, 4 years old, hadn't done much, stabled in Dover. Yes Dover. The first horse I looked at to buy. You never forget your first. He was a darling horse with a face that would make grown men cry and a temperament like he had been on the earth for twice the amount of time his little life has been here. So, I dragged my good friend Saileog all the way down to the White Cliffs to stand in the middle of the arena in the freezing cold and take photo, after photo, after photo, after video, after photo. He stood still for me to get on him. He tried to do what I was telling him without resisting. He had a kind eye and a loving personality. He had a bit more bone than most thoroughbreds and had a gorgeous coat. As far as I could see his conformation was good. He was good to box, shoe, clip, good in the field with other horses, good in every way. But. The one breed I wanted to stay away from was a thoroughbred. And for the plain and simple fact that if I wanted to sell him on for whatever reason ( "you can't afford it / you can't afford it / you can't afford it" ) it would be tough. TB's go for nothing these days, bless them. And also, I felt a bit monstrous on his compact frame, being 5'7. So I put him on the back burner to think about. Well no, I had already bought him in my mind at that stage and had an embarrassing moment after a few vinos when I put his face up as my profile picture in Facebook. But I held back, once I'd sobered up.
I was told not to buy the first horse you see and it is good advice because I would have Harry now if I didn't listen to the advice of people around me. And I did have reservations about him. If he was meant for me then I would have him, right? But I stalled and he was sold 5 days before I was due to go down for a second viewing. I'm fine. Honestly. Twitch. I'm fine.
Losing Harry really did make me think about whether he was EXACTLY what I was looking for. And I love clothes and partying so if I'm giving them up for this horse then it better be a good fecking horse.
Horse Number Two - Uncia. And yes, it sounds like it reads. Un See Ah. Vom. The pretty little Holstein mare. The main thing I remember about this trip is HOW HUNGOVER I was going up to try her out. I can't quite remember where she was stabled but I think it was just a few miles from the centre of themiddleofnowhere. Planes, trains and automobiles I had to take to get up to that horse. And that ain't a joke. I was blinded by the names on her passport and her description, which all but suggested that she poo'd gold. I had my Christmas party the night before. So that shows my dedication because those who know me, know that I can NOT function with a hangover. I'm a plank. I can't move the day after having a few drinks and any effort to do so makes me feel like I have one foot in the grave. So to cut a long story short I vom'd my way to themiddleofnowhere to see the horse.
"What a pretty face you have", Victoria said to Uncia. "All the better to flutter my long eyelashes with my dear", Uncia whispered back to Victoria. "And my, what amazing breeding you have", Victoria exclaimed to Uncia. "All the better to make you think I'm the most amazing horse in the entire world, my dear" Uncia responded. "But oh....oh.....you don't go on the right leg.....EVER", Victoria stammered when she first saw Uncia ridden by her owner. "LOOK AT HOW PREEEETTTTY I AAAAAMMMM", Uncia screamed, starting to panic.
I mounted the beautiful Uncia. Shudder. I don't want to remember it....do I have to talk about it? Aw bless her, she wasn't that bad. But she didn't trust me one little bit. She didn't go on the right leg. She spooked at the jump in the middle of the arena, which is a permanent fixture at her yard. Her head was shaking all over the place (maybe she was trying to make me look at her pretty eyes again). I tried. Because she was lovely. And she was cheap. But I wasn't the one for her. If I'd had a moment of relaxation with her then I might have seen another side to her. And I was incredibly hungover so that wasn't helping the situation. So I said no and returned to London...taxi to the train station, wait for 50 mins in freezing temperatures for the train, overland train to london, tube, tube, burger and chips, tube, home. Aaaahhhh.
Horse Number Three - Jimbob (I mean, seriously, where do people come up with these names?) *appologies to anyone reading this who has a horse named Jimbob*
Jimbob had blue blood. Apparently. He was a decedent of the worldly known Donnerhall....those who don't know him, should (see point 8 above). He was a beauty. A very naughty 7, going on 1, year old beauty who couldn't stand still for more than 3 seconds. If even that. The only way he would stand still would be if you touched him. "Touch me, touch me, stroke me...oooo, bandages, can I get them off, oooh, leadrope, can I eat that, AAAAAAGGGGGGHHH COWS, touch me, touch me, love me, gimme that rug so I can eat it, touch me". Adorable brat, who DID. NOT. STAND. STILL. So I knew before sitting up on him that he would be trouble. But of course I watched his owner ride him and he went quite nicely, other than horrendous canter transitions, when he stopped staring the cows out of it and concentrated he had a lovely shape. But he had the concentration span of a flea. I sat up on him, more to entertain his owner (who had said to me..."phew, I thought you were going to be a boring banker type"...."ehhh, I AM in banking"....cue the reddest face I have ever seen) and rode him around, feeling more tense with every stride. And what a stride they were. 3 strides and we had taken up the long side of the arena. He was very unbalanced and just wouldn't listen to me. And then there was our first canter experience together: trot, trot, trot, leg on, still trotting, trot, trot, more leg on, trot trot, push with my seat, trot trot trot, kick, trot, kick kick, trot, kick, kick, PONY CLUB KICK, trot, trot, trot, BOOT, BOOT, BOOT, buck....canter.
Donnerhallamazingnessbeautyoft
So that is where I am in my hunt across the nation for my perfect horse (it did go global for a moment or two but after reminding myself that I have NOT won the lotto I got a grip of myself). I'm glad I didn't get Harry. It's made me a lot more fussy about what I want and that's a good thing. I'm more realistic now about what I can actually spend now and I am reminding myself (on a daily basis) that no, I did NOT in fact win the lotto. It is exciting hunting for a horse. But it's hard. And I keep getting Kevin and Perry moments of stomping my foot and whining..."I want my horse and I want it NOOOOOOOOOWWWWWwwwwwwwwuh". My horse will find me. I'm trying to keep my knickers on about the ones I'm next seeing;
Rolo - 16.1hh bay Oldenberg
Carrera - 16hh chestnut KWPN
Vino - 16.2 dark bay Oldenburg (No photo available)
Polo - 16.3 grey KWPN (No photo available)
Ruby - 16.1 black Oldenberg (No photo available)
Keep tuned for my updates. First up, Rolo, tomorrow at 2pm. Gulp. Stay calm Victoria. Twitch. Twitch. Twitch. Twitch. Twitch. Gulp. AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!H!!!
