"Ooooh, Mummy! I'll simply die if I can't join the Pony Club!"
Even the police horses in London can't stop for a breather without girls smearing sweat and ice cream all over their faces, just at that awkward spot where they can't lick it off.
Weemen … I'll never understand 'em.
12 comments:
I wish I could answer your question, Dive. I was one of those girls--had to have a horse and was happy to do all the work involved. But my sisters weren't as enamored as I was.
This is a guess: the difference between us might have been romantic imagination--love of fairy tales, history, castles, knights and the like. Not just prince charmings but the other stuff, too. I'm the one who ended up reading Shakespeare, Malory dark ages history 'til my eyes turned red.
Yesterday I went hiking with two friends who happen to own horses (lots of horse people around here). So of course we ended up talking about horses, saying hi to all the horses on the trail (and their people), etc.
Petrea, the literary link is interesting but over here horsey girls (gels) are not the reading type; they're more the sort to learn needlepoint, marry a landowner and settle down to breed braying brats.
You live in a land where riding horses makes sense. Perhaps we should ship all our horsey gels out to the prairie and the cattle ranges over there. That would be a shock for all concerned.
We've planet of cattle locally but the only thing we're known for herding here in Norfolk is geese. Every year until quite recently we drove millions of the noisy buggers all the way to London on foot for the Christmas market. Horses and cowboys were not really needed.
You see, then, how I've romanticized England.
Riding horses only makes sense in a few places here these days. Too bad.
Actually we have plenty of horses around here, Petrea, but very few bridle paths, so most of the riders have to use the narrow, twisting lanes in my part of the country, which is okay with us locals but causes traffic chaos when the millions of dumb tourists arrive every summer in their SUVs and caravans not knowing how to cope with riders on the highway.
Give me horses over tourists any day.
Horses are cool. Nuff said.
Oh I loved horses as a young girl. I felt strong and powerful and fearless when I rode. Maybe because I felt tall for the first time.
I wasn't into the horsey show bit, but chose Western style, one handed riding. Back then we didn't need a helmet to ride. I chose to embrace life with a full gallop.
Vic, it's not just lesbians who have that fantasy! Hee hee.
Vanda, they are indeed.
Neetzy, you're right. I was four when I first rode. It was on a HUGE white horse and I felt like I could see over houses.
We don;t get the opportunity for Western-style riding here; outside of racing it's all either tally-ho hunting pinks or gymkhanas.
I never did the English riding bit, but my daughters begged me for lessons. They learned both English and Western but weren't into the whole show thing. I took care of a neighbor's Chincoteague pony when she went off to college.
I used to ride bareback down sandy lanes through the salt marsh. That was riding!
I didn't have a horse, nor ride, when I was young, although we did ride ponies. Talk about stubborn-minded buggers! They'd do whatever they could think of to get us off of their backs.
That sounds great fun, Neetzy. We have plenty of sandy lanes and salt marshes around here. If my back were not so bad I'd give that a go.
Hee hee, Ms.M. Stubborn-minded buggers indeed! An excellent description.
I'll admit to a love of horses myself...except for the one I got stuck with at camp in Jr. high. Old domino would have made a much more interesting glue stick than he was a ride. My letters home were pretty funny that year. :D
That's just crying out for a blog post, Shan. Tell us the whole story.
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