Horses

Although I don't ride any more, I still love being around horses. It was a real treat when my daughter took me to visit her new horse share.

Transport in Luxor

On our holiday in Luxor, Egypt, one of the modes of transport I refused to sample was a calashe. While I am sure the experience would have been exhilarating, and possibly pleasanter than the inside of a taxicab with no air conditioning, I just didn’t think it fair to add more weight to the carriage and driver for one horse to pull. We saw some labouring along with three large passengers, plus driver, and it really didn’t seem right.

Some of the horses were clearly well cared for, while others looked tired and emaciated. One mare was working with a loose foal running alongside her along the main road beside the River Nile. This looked really sweet but it didn’t seem very safe.

I took this picture of calashe horses at rest in the centre of the town. Look carefully to see one lucky animal having lunch from a nosebag. The luckiest ones have been stopped in the shade of some trees.

A Bit of Nostalgia: True Horsy Story from Fifty Odd Years Ago

pic by Jim Champion

Next to my school when I was in my teens were some riding stables where I was welcomed as a free helper and I soon turned into a horse-mad youngster.  These days I live near the New Forest, and I found the lovely picture above of new forest ponies at Wikimedia Commons.

In summer the riding school took on the job of providing hacks and children’s pony rides for Barton Hall Hotel, which was about a half hour walk from the stables, on the other side of the Newton Road, the main artery into town.  In exchange there was a hut for tack and taking money, plus a vast grazing field.  Free helpers like myself had a rota for which venue they would be helping at, and for moving the horses and ponies between the two of them.

One Saturday it was my turn to collect the two smallest ponies from Barton Hall and walk them down the lane to the railway cutting, along the Newton Road and up Shiphay Lane past the front of the school entrance and back to the stables.  I agreed to take along my sister who was a novice rider some 18 months younger than me.

We started off ok, me riding Silver, who could be a bit moody, and would grab a piece of your behind as you mounted if you didn’t have her head firmly pulled in the opposite direction, so you invariably started off by going round in circles.  Sis was on Smoky, the smallest and quietest, though a bit nervy.  She was to follow me down the lane, which was quite a steep downward gradient.  When we got to the bottom and turned to walk along to the road beside the railway cutting, I would pick up the leading rein and we could go side by side.

But no sooner had we turned the corner when a great gust of wind blew an old newspaper out of the hedge.  Smoky was so startled he reared up and deposited sis on the ground.  I heard the crack as she hit arm first.  With a bit of help, she was able to get on her feet, but she was sobbing and clutching her arm, and her face was paler than the whitewash on the side of the garage across the railway.  There was no way she would get back on that pony.

“I’ll take you to the hospital,” said her big sister.  This was not far.  All we had to do was turn right over the railway bridge when we reached the road about 50 yards away.  The hospital drive turned off the road on the other side of the bridge; then it climbed up from the road and rail valley to the casualty entrance.

We set off on foot, me supporting sis on one side and leading two quarrelling ponies on the other.  That few hundred yards seemed like miles and took us about half an hour. 

As I was about to tie the ponies to a sturdy wooden seat outside, a man said he would hold them for me.  You trusted people then.  Anyway I didn’t really have a choice.  I had to get sis inside.  Once she was being looked after by a starchy staff nurse, I was able to pop back out and check on the ponies.  Of course they were the centre of attention and being properly spoiled.  I could only hope that Silver would behave and not nip anybody.

Sis didn’t have to wait long for the x-ray which confirmed a nasty fracture.  You don’t get service like that in A&E these days.  Those were also the days of old money and red telephone boxes that took threepenny bits and actually had phone directories in them.  First I rang the stables, then thought about how we were going to get home.  We didn’t have our own phone then, but I found the number for the next door neighbours'.  Unfortunately noone was in and the phone just rang on and on. 

After scratching my head a bit, I suddenly thought of the corner shop about a hundred  yards from our house.  Sure enough, Mr Loram in the shop had a customer who would be passing our house and could pop in with a message asking my dad to come and fetch us at the hospital.  At the time he was a commercial traveller and had a bright red van that could also be used to run the family around when he wasn’t on the road with it.  No such thing as seat belts then.  One or two of us would be sitting on boxes in the back and sometimes ended up rolling around the floor on the sharper bends. 

Next time I went outside, the ponies were gone and so were all the people.  I was just a bit worried then, hoping there weren’t any horse-nappers about.  So I used my last threepenny bit to call the stables again.

“It’s ok,” I was told.  “We came straight over and collected them.”  Big sigh of relief.  And not long after that, sis was sitting comfortably in the front seat of the red van as I rolled around in the back.  I never thought I’d be so glad to be doing that.

It didn’t put me off horse riding, and I think I got some brownie points for looking after sis and making that phone call.  But it was almost the first time, and certainly the last time that my sister sat on a horse.

Wordless Wednesday: Heavy Horse Centre, April 2009

Showing off an an Old English Tradition

Not sure when I'll be able to resume dropping and commenting folks. I am struggling with deadlines on a lengthy job and also trying to recover from a cough and sore chest inherited from that cold I caught. These combined are pretty exhausting.

But here's a pic I can share which I received from my daughter who went to a horse show  yesterday. Part of the entertainment   was a display by the huntsmen and their hounds.

Remembering Egypt

Sorting out my Wordless Wednesday pic for this week really reminded me of our holiday in Egypt in March last year.  It was in fact, the last time we left the UK, and proved to be a really memorable fortnight.  When we first got off the plane and onto the transfer coach, I thought I was going to hate it: we'd just had an argument with a local who wanted about £10 for carrying a bag about 10 yards.  Later it rurned out that, because he didn't get what he wanted, he had slashed a long tear into the bag, which was pointed out to us by the porter at the hotel.  Fortunately we didn't lose anything from it but we had to dispose of it and buy a new one to go home.  It was not the best introduction to a new country.

But that man proved to be an exception.  Everyone else we met couldn't have been more friendly and helpful.  True, we were followed  by people trying to do business with us, which we had ben warned about, but we soon got used to that.

The other thing I wasn't too impressed with was the noise and smelliness.  Mainly the smell was from the horses that pulled the caleches, which together with taxis ancient and modern, formed the only options for getting around other than on foot or by boat.  I love horses but this smell could be pretty overwhelming.  We didn't take the caleches because I couldn't bear the thought of one of those horses having to put our weight combined with the driver.

Once I got used to all this, I really began to marvel at what I was seeing.  In any case our luxury hotel was an oasis away from it all.  We really were beside the River Nile and we went on it as well, taking one full day cruise and using the small boats that plied for our trade.  We took trips in the deserts of the West Bank visiting out of town temples and the tombs of the Valleys of the Kings and Queens.  And we visited the temples in Luxor itself and learnt about the Avenue of Sphinxes.

Here are some more pictures of the sights inside Luxor Temple.

This row of feluccas on the Nile was moored not far from our hotel.

Below is a list of some of my older posts where you can read more about this holiday.


Returning From Holidays
Female Pharoah
Cleopatra's Swimming Pool
Nile-side Village
Colossus of Memnon
Egyptian Evening Haiku
The Horses of Luxor
Sugar Beet Factory on the Nile
Egyptian Pool
Avenue of the Sphinxes
Nile Views Again
Egyptian Contrasts
Photographing Luxor Temples

Pegasus and Son Martorellet

When we visited Menorca in 2008, I was struck by the beautiful horses we saw in the countryside. We went to an equestrian show at the Son Martorellet stud and saw an amazing performance of dancing horses. The show told of the a young boy's dream to own a horse to ride in the fiestas, where he could join in the famous rearing dance amid the crowds of spectators.  This was the main theme against which the gleaming black stallions performed intricate dressage movements, appearing to be dancing to the background music.

Right at the end, the arena went very empty and quiet for the entrance of Pegasus, the winged horse, ridden by a lovely princess, making a vision of white and silver loveliness together with the silver grey horse.  They performed alone at first, before they were joined by the blacks for the grand finale.

We were told that the grey belonged to King Carlos of  Spain, that he boarded the animal at Son Martorellet and had graciously allowed him to take part in the finale of the presentation.  The whole show was a grand spectacle and the finale was the delicious icing on the cake.

Afterwards the stallions stood patiently and the audience members were invited to join them in the arena and take photos if they wished.  I was able to get close enough to see the rich decoration of the tack and the High backs of the saddles that aid the riders to keep their seats during the rearing dance.  But taking photographs was very difficult because of all the excited people milling around.  Not many horses I've met would tolerate this, but the Menorcan stallions are obviously well used to being admired by crowds in the arena as well as on the streets of the towns and villages.

It was wonderful writing material and I have sold articles about it.

Almost Wordless Wednesday - Continues the Horse Theme

We saw this little Shetland pony at the Heavy Horse Centre in Dorset. He took little children for short rides.

The Horses of Luxor

My heart bled for some of the horses I saw in Luxor when I was on holiday there recently. There were many. All were pulling calashes and being ordered to walk, trot or canter on the tarmaced roads, often in blistering heat. While some looked sleek, well-groomed and well fed, many looked haggard, with their ribs and bones noticeable under their harnessed bodies. Some were obviously limping. I couldn’t bring myself to ride in one of these horse carriages, thinking that I might be contributing to some poor beast’s hardship.

This is one that looks well cared for and happy enough, although it’s owner has made no attempt to find shade for it during this stop.



Not too sure about this one.



But I didn't dare try to take pictures of the really grotty ones, for fear of those lethal looking whips the drivers carried, and often used.

My Week

Since I missed posting on both Wednesday and Friday this week, I thought I’d add a Sunday post.

The week has been really eventful and I have lots of new writing material. In fact, there’s so much rolling around my head and noted down in different places, I’ll need a few months to get it all down.

On Monday I wrote here briefly about hubby and I taking my granddaughter to a country park with many adventure play areas. On Tuesday her mother arrived – my wonderful daughter, of whom I am inordinately proud. It was a bit rainy so we went to an indoor soft play centre.

These are a relatively new phenomenon that seem to have sprung up all over the UK. Thinking back to when my children were young, if we’d had them then, it would have made my life a lot easier. With six and a half years between my son and daughter, it was always difficult to find place to go and activities that they would both enjoy.

On Wednesday, we went to the local Heavy Horse Centre. It began with a pony ride for the littl’un. Then we saw the heavy horses in their stables before our picnic lunch and the feeding of pony nuts to the horses, ponies, donkeys and goats. There was the inevitable adventure playground and some pedalled go karts that were a great hit. We rode a tractor trailer and attended a fascinating presentation all about the different breeds of heavy horses.

Thursday saw us head for the shops at Poole and then the beach, and my texts about sipping a glass of wine on the terrace of the Sandbanks Hotel, in the lovely sunshine, made my friends green with envy. Unfortunately I can’t show you that because I’d left the camera in the car.

Friday we busied ourselves turning out rubbish from the garage and taking it to the tip before cleaning up and visiting friends.

And Saturday morning at 11 they left us to drive the hundred miles home, so hubby, who’d been working all week and feeling a bit left out, should have had my undivided attention. Except that the estate agent suddenly wanted the house ready for viewing so it was all systems go to get it looking fairly immaculate by 1.45. The feedback on that is the most promising so far, so I’m agog for more news next week.

Will I have a sale and be one step closer to my dream of moving to the seaside?

Wordless Wednesday - New Forest Foal

Of course, this wasn't December - June actually.
I just like looking at it. Makes a change from the Christmas hype.

Menorcan Horses

I’ve been writing about Menorcan horses this week. They are so beautiful. It’s hard to do them justice. I went to a spectacular equestrian performance of dressage by some magnificent black stallions. We weren’t allowed to take photos during the show but were invited into the arena to do so afterwards. Of course, it was impossible to get a good shot amidst all the other people. Here’s one that’s not too bad.

The island has lots of fiestas and one of their traditions is the rearing horse. Spectators jostle to pat the horses to make them rear up and walk forward on their hind legs. This, of course also formed part of the show. The next photo shows a statue on a roundabout in the old capital of Ciutadella. It’s a pretty good likeness.