Dinah Discusses - Pony Club Camp

Equine extra’s new contributor has been warmly welcomed, with her experience, wit and wisdom giving an entertaining insight into the life of a semi-retired, very successful competition mare.

Dinah is 19 years old now, still a ‘full up’ 16.1hh and immaculately turned out for all occasions. A beautiful, rich liver chestnut with an attractive full mane and tail, she loves the fact that she can still turn heads and strut her stuff in the arena. A veteran of all three affiliated competition disciplines, Dinah knows a thing or two but absolutely refuses to tolerate unbalanced riders – even on a hack – but she’s rather fond of the gawping youngsters who regularly spook into her whenever they see a dragon!

Her stable is a room with a view and her paddock allows unrestricted observation of all the comings and goings in the busy yard as befits her status. This week Dinah observes ...The Pony Club Camp!

If I was ever given the choice of coming back to this world for a re-run, I think I would choose to come back as the much beloved 12.2hh pony of a 10 year old little girl. One who was a member of a large Pony Club Branch and who enjoyed all that entailed.
Last week we were invaded by just that, hordes of ponies of every colour and type and hordes of little girls (plus some boys) for their annual Pony Club Camp.

The invasion started quietly enough with the arrival of dozens of trailers driven by some stressed looking Mums. They had that look of near exhaustion, of having been up since the crack of dawn trying to organise just what might be needed at Camp and in the end putting everything bar the kitchen sink in, now realising they have to now unpack it all and that they had in fact forgotten two girths and a martingale.

I decided it was a picture of complete but happy chaos, with small children running up and down the yard looking to find if their pony was going to be next door to their’ bestie’, of tiny people trying to lug giant tack boxes and buckets, invariably to the wrong places and then sitting down in a sulk and refusing to help the now even more frazzled Mum to settle in their pony.

Goodness knows how the mothers of siblings coped. I imagine it is a total logistical nightmare where either large quantities of alcohol and/or tray bakes of rocky road are a must to help ease the week along. That probably explained why I could hear what I’ve learned is the clink of the odd wine bottle, hidden discreetly amongst a bag of spare jodhpurs and underwear; they apparently call it a little something to help numb the senses at the end of the day for those Mums brave enough to have volunteered to stay overnight.

But what FUN these little troopers and their ponies had over the following week. The sound of riotous laughter was a daily occurrence. Usually following some poor unsuspecting person falling into a pile of poo or strangely becoming soaked by water. I was soon reminded that water still plays a vital role at camp, as it always has. Water fights, with or without slides, being the main source of amusement at the end of every day. That explained the copious quantities of ‘spare clothes’ required.

The actual riding activities looked great too; there seemed to be lots of galloping about in wide open fields and not always under the strictest control of the ever-so patient and mostly smiling, albeit through sometimes gritted teeth, instructors. When I and my turnout pals joined in, we were definitely NOT popular because those ponies with a sense of humour immediately gate-crashed our party and things were a bit too exciting briefly. I just stuck my head in the grass and wandered off ...

Next day they were in the arena in groups and there always seemed to be ‘that’ child who had selective hearing. The one who never heard “take the grid in trot” – who charged at said grid like ‘The Light Brigade’ leaving the Instructor turning a very of strange colour of grey and speaking in a voice that had gone up a squeak or two.

It seems to take a special type of Instructor to last the three to five days of Pony Club Camp. Many fall by the wayside suffering a variety of ailments. Usually sunstroke with dehydration, brought on by the fear of taking too much fluid on board so that their bladders might not last the duration of the riding sessions – Portaloos are a scarce commodity out in the farthest-flung fields but I still don’t understand why humans need a small box???

In previous years here, some instructors have succumbed to what they call “hypothermia with trench foot” at those rainy camps, but not this year! Also sudden attacks of Laryngitis are common, especially to those who have a troop of would-be Pony Racers. Most instructors though are a hardy bunch who always seem to thoroughly enjoy the whole week. Rising to the challenge of keeping all things ‘PC’, Health and Safety aware and most of all, everyone from parents and Committee members  to children and ponies happy.

Yes, it was a delightful week to observe, so much love and enthusiasm that only ‘horsey’ folk will understand. It seemed, as it always does, that each and every one just immersed themselves into the joy that is a child and their pony. Roll on next year’s Camp - and can I join The Pony Club please?

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Dinah Discusses - The Challenges of Hacking Out!

Equine extra’s regular contributor has been warmly welcomed, with her experience, wit and wisdom giving an entertaining insight into the life of a semi-retired, very successful competition mare.

Dinah is 19 years old now, still a ‘full up’ 16.1hh and immaculately turned out for all occasions. A beautiful, rich liver chestnut with an attractive full mane and tail, she loves the fact that she can still turn heads and strut her stuff in the arena. A veteran of all three affiliated competition disciplines, Dinah knows a thing or two but absolutely refuses to tolerate unbalanced riders – even on a hack – but she’s rather fond of the gawping youngsters who regularly spook into her whenever they see a dragon!

Her stable is a room with a view and her paddock allows unrestricted observation of all the comings and goings in the busy yard as befits her status. This week Dinah observes ...The Challenges of Hacking Out!

 

There’s nothing I enjoy more than being tacked up for a hack out. I don’t even mind having to don the fluorescent array of compulsory Hi-Viz. I have quite a fetching wardrobe now of boots, exercise sheets, martingales and more, as do my stable mates. So when I do venture out onto the roads I can be seen from space, which sometimes seems a bit over the top. However going by the amount of ‘near misses’ we have from the many maniacs who speed about our country lanes, often using the excuse that they are delivering our Amazon and  Asda shopping, it is very much a necessity.

Recently I went out on a very entertaining hack out with two of our younger horses, one being a very opinionated racehorse, who is I am told, being ‘retrained’. Dare I say his new owner, a lady of mature years whose physique couldn’t be further from a jockey, will have her hands full. My other hacking companion was the polar opposite to Speedy Gonzales, a little Section B, who spent most of her life in the show-ring. A fine trio we looked and a potentially dangerous combination.

Any gate we went through which lead to an open field was “right, we’re off“ and  Speedy Gonzales proceeded to shoot off at nought to sixty in less than a nano-second. A full tilt gallop, accompanied by a cheeky side step at a terrifying mole hill left his rider clinging on for grim death, desperately trying to regain her composure and ...stirrups. Of course, I had to show some restraint and obediently canter around the sides of the field trying to show my pony companion that no we don’t gallop as if we were in the 2.30 at Haydock and no we don’t throw a paddy when we get to the next gate and find it locked and have to retrace our route at the same headlong gallop.

(Listening to the ‘craic’, it seems that Speedy Gonzales may well find himself being sent back to the racetrack as his rider was rendered a gibbering, wailing wreck by the time we got back to the yard.)

To most of my equine friends though, hacking out is a quiet and pleasurable experience, a time to enjoy the peace and tranquillity of our stunning countryside. It’s an opportunity for our riders to amble along having a good gossip, putting the world to rights and having a moan at how expensive our livery is. It is after all one of the perks to owning a horse; the ability to get away from the school, the flatwork, the learning of dressage tests – all the more boring bits.

Yes, sometimes our tranquillity is shattered by the rudeness of a herd of inquisitive cattle, who seem to take great delight in charging up to the fence with such gusto that most of us horses (and our riders) get a really splendid shock – I’ve often wondered if cattle have a sense of humour! Anyone know?

That we also have to endure the silent assassins, mostly MAMILs (aka middle-aged men in lycra) who call themselves cyclists and creep up silently behind us, again sending some of us into the ditch or thorn dyke. Then let’s not forget  hose dear motorists who still think that horses on the road are an inconvenience to their hectic lives, so they never slow down and hardly ever ‘pass wide’. These things are sent to try us – but let’s not allow them to spoil what is still a very treasured time for both horse and rider.

Happy Hacking everyone!

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Dinah Discusses ... The Prancing New Show Jumping Trainer

Equine extra’s new contributor has been warmly welcomed, with her experience, wit and wisdom giving an entertaining insight into the life of a semi-retired, very successful competition mare. Meet Dinah...

Dinah is 19 years old now, still a ‘full up’ 16.1hh and immaculately turned out for all occasions. A beautiful, rich liver chestnut with an attractive full mane and tail, she loves the fact that she can still turn heads and strut her stuff in the arena. A veteran of all three affiliated competition disciplines, Dinah knows a thing or two but absolutely refuses to tolerate unbalanced riders – even on a hack – but she’s rather fond of the gawping youngsters who regularly spook into her whenever they see a dragon!

Her stable is a room with a view and her paddock allows unrestricted observation of all the comings and goings in the busy yard as befits her status. This week Dinah observes ...

The Prancing New Show Jumping Trainer

I knew something was in the diary yesterday because the yard was bustling, I was given breakfast early, the car park was nearly full and there was an awful lot of grooming and titivating going on .... and that was just the livery owners! I have rarely seen such a sparkly array of breeches, boots and bridles..... 'Bling' was everywhere. (Not my cup of tea I hasten to add as I am definitely a ‘less is more’ type of gal!).

I hadn’t got past wondering what was happening, when my question was answered by the sound of the jump trailer rattling down into the arena, which I could just see over my door had the NEW show jumps on. Back it came a bit later, removing our somewhat tatty resident show jumps. Now I was hoping they’d turn me out so I'd be able to watch whoever was going to attempt to jump these new show jumps – I was in need of a good laugh.

Well, my prayers were answered and out I went, just in time to witness the arrival of our new and very flamboyant-looking show jumping trainer. I say flamboyant because I had rarely seen that colour of hair and hairstyle, nor the cut and colour of breeches – on a man. Blimey oh Riley, where had they found this one? Certainly not on the cover of International Horsey News!

After a quick shuffle of the jumps and some poles, he then proceeded to attach a 'thingamajig' to his left ear, which I soon found out was a bit of technology that allowed us ALL to hear him .....  amplified.  What a racket I thought - and well, it will certainly get the fizzy fizzing!

The keen and obviously excited first lot of riders and their horses came in for their group lesson. Russell they called him -  hmmmm the nam suited him - and he started by spending what seemed an age discussing the things he wanted to see. Not all the horses were that keen to stand still though, so their riders probably missed a lot if it! The jumps were duly set at the height requested by the riders and he, rather disdainfully I thought, began to stride out what he thought might be more challenging related distances through some of the fences.  Obviously a ‘metre 30’ type of trainer, it was easy to work out that anything below a metre was literally beneath him – in every respect.

I wish I could describe the look of sheer terror that gradually came over the riders as their much-anticipated session progressed – watched by an entourage of connections and other riders. No amount of sequins on their jumping jodphurs was going to impress the prancing little Russell. He watched the group warm up, made a few critical remarks and then asked the first rider to ‘pop round’ the course he had designed. I couldn’t tear myself away to eat any grass – which doesn’t happen often in my life!

What a disaster – I felt quite sorry for her and her horse. There was a lot of ‘cat-leaping’ and grunting as they threw themselves around the course. In fact I thought the rider did well to remain on board as her horse was obviously not confident.

Oh dear though, his lofty opinion was delivered somewhat dripping in sarcasm. (Mother always told me that sarcasm was “the lowest form of wit"). As she rode some of the fences again, he continued without much positive encouragement, to the point where I doubted the rider now felt 50 quid of her hard earned cash was being spent wisely and even regretted not spending it on a bottle of Cava and a good night out with her mates instead.

Nevertheless, I must say that I was thoroughly entertained for virtually the whole day watching these brave souls – just a few essential grazing breaks when the groups changed over. Some were better than others, a few even got a compliment from ‘Mr Russell Prancer’ but overall there was a definite air of mild resentment come the end of his clinic. I also heard later that there were double the entries for the following week’s DRESSAGE competition.

The new show jumps were duly removed from the arena and I haven’t seen them since. Guess he won't be back any time soon then.

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Dinah Discusses ... the Heatwave

Equine extra’s new contributor has been warmly welcomed, with her experience, wit and wisdom giving an entertaining insight into the life of a semi-retired, very successful competition mare. Meet Dinah...

Dinah is 19 years old now, still a ‘full up’ 16.1hh and immaculately turned out for all occasions. A beautiful, rich liver chestnut with an attractive full mane and tail, she loves the fact that she can still turn heads and strut her stuff in the arena. A veteran of all three affiliated competition disciplines, Dinah knows a thing or two but absolutely refuses to tolerate unbalanced riders – even on a hack – but she’s rather fond of the gawping youngsters who regularly spook into her whenever they see a dragon!

Her stable is a room with a view and her paddock allows unrestricted observation of all the comings and goings in the busy yard as befits her status. This week Dinah observes ...

We’re Having a Heatwave, a Tropical Heatwave!

Talk about extremes! From an appallingly wet, cold and muddy Winter that kept its icy grip well into April, we now have British sun and temperatures soaring into the 90’s!!

Most of my equine buddies, including myself, are out enjoying the freedom of the paddocks.  Interestingly some of us enjoy basking in the heat but there are a few amongst us, the more ‘hairy’ types of native pony, who are struggling. There’s a lot of huffing, puffing, sweating and dare I say ‘squabbling’ for whatever shade can be found and great holes are being dug to try and create a dusty area to roll in. Needless to say the water trough keeps emptying at an alarming rate too.

The heat has of course brought out what seems like millions more nasty biting insects and flies. So we are all being smeared and sprayed in the latest bug repellents and a very weird looking contraption that looks like a big ball with a hat on has appeared by the gate. At first, some of the youngsters naturally thought it a dragon and therefore a great excuse for high tail antics. However we soon appreciated that this ‘dragon’ did in fact reduce the dreaded clegg and fly numbers. We happily gather around it now for its added protection – but it’s just out of reach to ensure that those youngsters aren’t tempted to try and chew it! (Photo left!)

Talking of protection, I have my factor 50 on. Both UVA and UVB protection to help my delicate white and pink bits from being burnt to a crisp. It’s a must for any thin skinned horse during this weather (some owners don’t realise how rapidly we burn and how these burns don’t just look unsightly but more often than not become infected and really HURT).

We have several poor souls amongst us who react so badly to the heat and sun that they are now sporting a fetching hooded rug ensemble. Yes, they do resemble odd looking armour plated slugs, but these rugs are so clever that not only do they keep the bugs from biting and their sweet itch from itching, but they protect them from the rays of the sun and help keep them cool. One of the owners has just bought a rug, which when sprayed with water helps retain the moisture and Eric, the Highland Pony, now walks about in the midday sun.

I refuse to moan about this rare weather event; I won’t even mind the fact that the ground is becoming as hard as bell metal and there are some days I am brought in during the hottest hours, which I appreciate. The only thing I will mind is that if we don’t get some rain soon my much loved grass will stop growing. Doesn’t bear thinking about!

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