A Max in the hand helps Max in the bush

Mr Max and I are OK. We couldn't get in the school straight away today, so we did a bit of in hand on the yard by the muck heap, which I thought was probably a good idea anyway, if he has a problem with the school. Just mix things up a bit.

But then the school became free and in we went. I left him go free and he took himself off to the far side of the school away from the door.

He did spend some time looking confused and distracted. I used his headcollar rope at first, getting him to touch it, moving it over his back and hinds and giving him clicks. He was tense, but stayed still at least and didn't flinch.

Then we did a bit with moving quarters, and his mood and focus improved as he got more and more praise, and finished with a bit of backing up. Really short and sweet and he was looking pretty relaxed by the time we left.

Just the way I like him!

Snow but smoother sailing

Yesterday at the yard was pretty brutal, and I'm up early today to decide whether to walk to work rather than drive. So much snow! Pah! I'm not worried about my driving, it's all the other yahoos out there I'm not sure about!

Needless to say, nothing really done with Max. It's a shame because it's not really the best time to take a break, but the weather is beyond my control.

I did have him in the school on Sunday though, and we made some headway with the left rein evasion. I lined first, and I was a heck of a lot firmer in contact than I usually am. He was fine with that and went very nicely - even worked up a bit of a wet mouth.

Went into half the school on the lunge and tried right rein first, which was cool. I think I want a longer line, although I'm not sure if I'd just end up tangled in it. We're not using the whip any more, and although I took my stick in, I didn't use that either. I did use the end of the line though, either circling it like a lasso, or coming up close and flapping it as his bottom if he wasn't keen to get his energy up. It worked. Not as effectively as waving the whip behind him, but we'll worry about those details later.

On the left rein, oh yes, we had evasion. We had tries at evasion, anyway. I can always see it coming - he looks to his right, his right ear twitches that way too, like he's planning his route, he then appears to be coming into the turn as he should, and then just turns and goes the other way.

He tried that, twice, and failed.

Again, I was a lot firmer with the pressure of my hand and as he got to the point where I knew he was going to try it on - I can feel the tension in the line as well - I am not sure exactly what I did, but I did it both times and it worked. It involved squeezing the line like I was wringing out a damp sponge, yelling "Oi!" and a little jump (no, I don't know why the jump either, it just happened).

After that he looked a few times, but a squeeze got his attention back, and lots of praise for going round the bend without trying it on and then he stopped looking, and just got on with it.

By no means do I think we've cracked it, but it was a start. It also doesn't touch his Arab Mist problem out and about. Little steps.

We did a little ridden after that, but I cut it short as another rider came in with her TB and I knew Max was distracted by the company.

We tried a little rein back with putting my weight back and that brush of the legs forward and good golly! Back he went! Also did a bit of trot (only using half the school) changing diagonals and keeping my legs off his sides and we remained in a steady pace rather than going faster, faster, faster... Hard to tell though because we weren't at it for very long.

If the school is decent, I may try that with him again today. I expect I won't be up against a lot of people wanting to use the school because nobody will dare drive over to the yard.

With the ridden I tried the firmer contact too, and I think it helped. He does fight it though - when he starts putting pressure on the bit I find it really hard to not loosen my grip because I don't want him to be uncomfortable.

My horse, my mirror

Bless my dad. Talked to him on Friday night and he'd been off to his retired vet friend talking to him about Max and his bumps in the armpits. He also commented on Max's behaviour recently and said, "If I read you and Max right, then I think you'll get through this with thought and patience. He's teaching you a lot about how to deal with your own stuff as well as his. He's holding a mirror up. Can you see what he's showing you?"

My dad then reminded me of when I was a kid, and would get so scared of things unknown...

"But dad, it it's like he has a panic attack, and I can't bring him back from that."

"Who does that remind you of, eh? You used to do the same, and it would break my heart, how anxious you'd get. It would take ages to talk you down. You've got to do that for Max now. You've got to remember and use that experience of how you felt to help Max. You'll help yourself, too."

"Huh. Yeah, I get your point, but I was a tiny girl, and this is half a ton of muscle and crazy."

"Yes, but that's your lesson. Max feels what you once felt. You mirror each other and he's in your life big and bold. How did you feel? How can you make him not feel like that? He's your pupil and your teacher. It's about patience and trust. You've got the foundation already so build on it."

Max has definitely taken my head down some roads that have changed my mental landscape, made me look more closely at him, and at myself. He will mirror me literally by adopting my stance for a click treat, but as my father wisely points out, Mirror Max reflects so much more than what is physical.

Tears and a clown

Proper tears from me, and not the happy kind. Really upset about Max yesterday. He got so distressed in the school, like he was having a proper panic attack, whites of eyes, blowing, the whole thing. He stood leaning against his muzzle on my shoulder, and blowing for ages while I tried to calm him down. We just walked together for a long time too, because he was so sweaty (he had been working as well).

I finally got him back with clicker training, going over his really well known tricks - eyes eventually focused, offered his tricks, got his treats. At first I had pony nuts out for him and he wouldn't even look at them.

My poor Max. I'm finding it really distressing.

We were going along OK, started by lining, then onto a smaller circle around me and again, on the left rein, evasion. I know he's going to do it, I can see when he's setting himself up for it, and I try gentle vibration of inside rein to counteract, but if he decides to go for it, I've got nowt unless I pull on him, which I won't.

So after a few failed attempts (and I admit to getting frustrated, trying to hide it, but there's isn't much I can hide from Max) we went down to single rein and lungeing. Disaster!

He evaded again, I tried to counter, I raised the whip up (nowhere near him) and he lost it!

We had Max galloping up and down the school, climbing the walls, proper freaking out.

I dropped the whip (of course) and tried to calm him, but he wasn't having it. Got close enough to take the line off and he set off again. I just didn't want him to get his feet tangled up because he was hooning around the school like he was chased by demons.

So, I kept him going, worked on changing his direction with my body until he ran out of steam.

He finally stood I collected him and put one line on again. He was stiff with tension, wild, white rimmed eyes, really tall and blowing like mad. I know he'd been running, but this was something else on top of the exertion.

I patted his neck, held out a few pony nuts but he ignored them. He just kept staring wild eyed. The one teensy bit of comfort I got was when he set his nose on my shoulder and just stayed there while I leaned into his neck and asked him what was troubling him. Tried to be as soothing as I could, but he wouldn't settle.

That's when we just walked, around and around the school. He was present, polite, but not with me.

I had been hearing some commotion outside of the school, but I thought it was hackers coming back onto the yard, and I knew YO was doing the ins and outs on the yard, day horses coming in from the fields, night horses going out.

So yes, there were distractions, but not enough to get Max so flipped out.

Once his breathing slowed, I asked him to stand, and we went through a few of his clicker training party tricks. I couldn't think of anything else to do, and it seemed worth a try.

As it happens, it was the right thing to do, because it worked. Desperation and instinct won the day!

I could still see the concerned, unfocused look in his eye, but he gave me little, worried, contained versions of his usually extravagantly performed trick bag. Tiny nods of yes, teensy head shakes of no, front feet lifted to match mine, and clicks and a pony nut for each.

His eyes started to change. Still worried, but my Max again, an expressive face that I recognised. He focused and saw me again. He remembered who we were together.

So then I wondered about the whip. It seems to be setting him off, and I don't know why. He's never been hit with it and he's never been scared of it before.

So we walked over to it and I picked it up. Straight away, arched neck and tension, wild eyes again.

"Max, touch."

He did.

Held it over his head.

"Max, touch."

He did.

Took it apart, laid it on the ground.

"Max, touch."

He did.

I don't know what's going on with that. I'd only just gaffer taped it together to cover up the spot where he'd chewed on it because it is just a thing that is no bother to him. He's never been alarmed by the blasted thing. So what's changed?

I talked to the Ent about it last night and said again, "He's never been hit or threatened with it, I don't understand and I don't even know if it's the proper issue he has, because that's not what sets him off when we're out on hacks."

Ent, who is also really concerned about the situation, and I mean in a proper "What's wrong with the boy?" way rather than a "dangerous horse way", said, "Maybe somebody else has scared him on the yard."

That's not a thought I want in my head, but honestly, I don't think so. In fact, I know that's not possible. I can't see how anybody would get the chance let alone have any reason to make Max feel scared.

YO takes no nonsense, but she would never threaten him or mishandle him; I know she wouldn't. I talked to another yard worker about it today too, and she said she can't see how, because Max never gives anybody any reason anyway. He goes into his box like a dream, and he comes back out and goes to his field with no hassle. He might make a grab for the hay stock, but he's not aggressive, difficult or stubborn. He's one of the "no trouble" horses on the yard.

Anyway, when he was calm enough, we left the school and I walked past YO and another livery owner who were thankfully immersed in conversation so I didn't have to answer any "How was he?" questions. I was going to say "Fine" breezily if they did, but didn't know if I could trust myself not to just cry instead. I felt like crying. I did cry later with the worry.

Got him sorted, rubbed him down with a towel to take off excess sweat, and when I was happy that he was calm and warm enough, I took him out to his field.

What I found out though, when I came back from the Max's paddock, was that something had been going on when Max and I were in the school, and the commotion I'd heard wasn't hackers returning to the yard.

YO told me that she was collecting a mare from the Long Field (just outside the school) and she saw our warmblood chestnut gelding properly attacking his field mate, an old retired hunter, about 27, in the Cottage Field across the lane.

Don't know what's going on there, because those two have been field mates for ages, and the warmblood has been with us for over a year and has never done anything like this before. He had the old boy pinned against the hedge line and was going for him hammer and tongs. Old boy was fighting back, but he's a gentle old soul and didn't really have a chance.

YO ran and got another yard bird and the two of them separated warmblood and old, brought old boy in to check him out for damage. He had a bleeding nose, but probably a scrape from the hedge nothing more, and some serious bites on his neck. He was otherwise OK, just a bit shocked.

So, where does that leave us? Was Max freaking out as a reaction to what was going on between the warmblood and the old boy? Maybe. I didn't know, although I was aware of something going on, but Max is much more sensitive to sound and horse vibe than me, so perhaps he did. Maybe.

Today... well, today was hard and busy. Six horses to muck out instead of four but I made a break between half nine and half ten to try again with Max.

We had a word in his box, first. Told him he really mustn't worry, he couldn't do anything wrong, and we are just going to figure it out together no matter how long it takes.

I ditched the whip. Might bin the blasted thing if that truly is the problem. Got all his stuff into his box for long lining, kept with his Pee Wee bit for now, took my dressage whip for pointing. Showed it to him, did "Max, touch" a couple of times to make sure he was cool with it, grabbed his mint lick in case he had another moment, and off we went.

I put his bridle on when we got to the school, sorted out the lines then too, put the stick down and, as it happens, never touched it, and we went right back to basics. Complete basics.

We walked around for ages, changing directions and snaking through the three jumps set up in the middle of the school. Every now and then he'd set off on his own course, and I'd let him, then gently bring him back to my intended course.

We've lost "stand" again. Not sure why, but we worked on that a bit and it was better when we finished. We came round on a smaller circle for very short bursts, and then back out. We did transitions from walk to trot back to walk.

The whole time it was clicker, treat for good, a pat and a fuss for a good try, and when he evaded (which he did, a lot, and always on the left rein) I remained silent, followed him on his evasion, snaked him back through the jumps back to where we started, and tried again.

Great enthusiasm from me, lots of praise, lots of soothing and some fairly good, but no aerobic work from Max. No matter.

So my assessment today is there is a problem, but I can't work it out. He's a LOT better without the whip, although very low energy. That's OK, can work on that.

He still had something in his eye telling me there is some kind of niggle, but I can't work it out. It is always left rein and I don't know why, but suspect it must be me. Must be something I'm doing but I don't know what. Blocking him? I'm not too harsh with my hands and I can't feel anything in his mouth bothering him... maybe the bit? Not sure.

Anyway, for what it's worth, it was a very good session today for Max's head and mine. Really easy going, no drama, lots of hugs and clicks, lots of reassurance and encouragement and some pretty slick moves from Max.

He was all about long and low today, I noticed that. I'm not sure what to do with that observation other than continue to observe.

So what I've gathered from all this is.... no whip, no "lunge, lunge, lunge" him. None of that. No riding him out, either, until I have more of a handle on what's going on.

Well, I say that. Tomorrow, depending on how things go, I will line him again, just like today, and if it all feels really calm and lovely, I may try to just ride him up the lane and back at the end. I will take the head collar with me (I won't need it, he'll be fine unless we have a low flying helicopter or escaped pig - can't tell you how I know that, I just know).

If I ride him at the end tomorrow, big "if", I'll have to decide in the moment, I will do a bit of work in the school on trot with my legs off his sides and see how we go.

Might be ambitious for tomorrow though, actually, now that I'm thinking of it. May just do the same as today, because today was pretty calm and positive. Maybe put some poles down that he can walk through and over, just set up so he can do it right and feel safe and clever. I want to set him up for success and rebuild his confidence in himself and me.

Was also thinking today that maybe Max sees me as a comrade more than a leader. Maybe there's a respect thing going on? I'm not sure because he is pretty careful about my space and moves so well when I ask him, he's always polite; but when he was freaked, although he stuck close.... if he truly saw me as his leader, would he still be so worried?

Does he think I can't protect him and make sensible decisions for safety that are worth following? Does he think he has to protect me so feels added pressure in that sense?

Am I over-thinking? I tend to do that.

I want to take whatever this anxiety is away from him. I could just wail and moan about this being down to the fact that I'm lame, but I don't think it is. Something is going on beyond me being inadequate.

Thing is, I almost hate to say this... as much as I am so distressed by this situation, there's a part of me that is fascinated by it too. Not by seeing Max upset, because that just cuts me up, but by trying to figure out the way round it, and by comparing yesterday's disaster to today's encouraging session. OK, we were doing baby steps again, travelling well trodden ground, but still...

We had fun together today. Yeah, there was some objection and rebellion, but it was dialled way back down and it worked.

Short and sweet

Max was quite good today. Just his bridle in the school, in hand, working on active inside rein (on both reins), and a bit of stand.

He got that look of confusion and concentration when we're trying something new, but was very happy to give it a go. Did a little work on "head down" toom which he got really good at. Started with me lowering my hand to the ground and him following, ended with me standing at his shoulder saying "head down" and down it went.

After that we went for a very short walk on the lane, just from the back of the yard to the front, but lots of opportunities to gently bring his attention back to me without it being challenging or particularly stressful. A good start, I thought.

Mad Max Goes Mental (that Arab Mist)

My boy needs to go to reform school. He is a delinquent. Sigh.

The Norwegian Fjord horse is laudably sensible. All four feet on the ground, opinionated, yes, but steady and sure. That should be Max. He looks Fjord, he acts Fjord, but he is not a purebred Fjord. No, he is a cross-breed, and his sire was an Arab racer.

Unlike Fjords, Arabs are hot-bloods. Excitable, sometimes flighty, sometimes a bit loopy.

Hence the Arab Mist. For all that Max is affable, comical and totally sensible, in times of stress, his Arab heritage kicks in, and that is a force to be reckoned with.

Took him out for a wee hack at about quarter to nine this morning, in the middle of the yard work. Figured it would be a good time to go, because nobody's really about then, so lanes are quiet. Then as I was getting ready, YO said it was good to go early because the farm next door was having a pheasant shoot, meeting at about 10.00 so proper start at 11.00. Good to get Max out and back before all that commotion happened.

We were fine. Not one nap, not any hint of trouble. I went past the neighbouring far and then turned left down a slippy bridleway and let Max pick his way. On we went, he stopped and tensed, and then a jogger and dog came into view. We watched them approach, let them pass and Max moved on easily.

We kept on, getting to the point where we'd turn into a field and make our way home but Max froze. I couldn't see anything. He twitched, nodded his head but wouldn't move forward. We were like that for a while and I could feel the tension building in him, but could really see nothing. At times like this, I can feel his heart beating.

For all I know it was some beaters preparing for the shoot to come, who knows, but although I could see nothing, Max was definitely not happy. I didn't want an issue when we were doing so well, so I turned him and we headed back the way we'd come. He did a scoot, like he was being chased, but settled down pretty quickly.

Then we were fine again. Perfectly content, detoured into a field, decided it wasn't a good place to be because it looked like a crop field, so back out again. Max was completely obliging and relaxed.

Approaching the lane to turn for home, I heard sing-song shouting. Max heard it too and pricked his ears, but kept moving forward with no hint of reluctance.

"Just kids" I thought, "They'll pass. We'll be fine."

It wasn't kids. It was people from the dairy farm across the lane chasing the cows into the barn with yelling and "Gee ups". Then the cows started to run (little flashes of black and white through hedge and thundering hooves -- well, cows, so not exactly thundering).

STAMPEDE!

Max lost his sh*t.

He turned and lurched forward; I tried to re-direct. He scrambled up a muddy bank to our left. I thought I'd come off then but stuck on somehow. Max couldn't get through the hedge at the top of the bank, so we half turned and slid back down. Thought we'd both tumble and fall but we didn't.

I tried to turn him back towards the lane (the cow stampede was still happening) and he stood up twice. Not straight up, proper rear, but lifted, hovering front legs with powerful surge building in the hinds like he was going to launch. Thankfully he didn't launch. Whether that was down to me saying, "No Max, not this!" or whether it was me realising that my legs were instinctively coming up and my knees were gripping, so then forcing myself to relax my legs back down long and loose stopped him from launching, or whether he just thought better of it, I don't know.

Then he spun and ran back into the crop field. I got him to stop but he was twitching. The noise was still going on behind us and I just kept thinking if the b*stards would get the flippin' cows in and shut up I could deal with Max.

I sat and thought "I can't go forward, because I already know there's something ahead he doesn't like, and I can't go back because of the stampeding cows, and I can't just stand here because he's going to do a Catherine Wheel in a minute. What do I do? Think! Think!"

I tried to calm him so I could figure out what to do, and that's when he started going backwards in tight circles. Proper cow pony stuff.

All very impressive, the moves he was making. That is, I would have been well impressed if I had asked for any of it, but I hadn't.

Kept my ear on the farm and when Max was standing still again, I decided to get off... half slid, half got launched, but landed on my feet still holding the reins.

Clearly staying on board was not helping and my only hope was that he would feel more confident if I was on the ground beside him.

Then I walked him home, very carefully, while he pranced about like a tit. A really strong, really wired and unfocused tit, all arched neck and straining, barely contained power.

It wasn't easy. We got to the lane and had to let a couple of cars pass, another jogger with dog, and then a car which stopped ahead of us with driver's side door open, and remained open while occupant went to look in a field.

Max was not happy with that at all and wouldn't go forward. Then we had another car come up behind us and the bugger drove right up our arse with impatient motor revving. Max pranced and snorted like a stallion.

I had to ask the driver to please keep his distance and be patient while I sorted my horse. Driver rolled his eyes at me and drummed his fingers on his steering wheel, but at least he stopped creeping up on us.

Car ahead finally moved on, so Max moved on and I got him into a lay-by to let arse behind me drive past, and then Max and I jogged home. He was my Max again, nudging my shoulder, looking straight at me instead of where he was going, eyes completely calm. I relaxed then, knowing I could get us both home safe.

He doesn't even look like m Max when this Arab Mist drops over him. His whole body changes, the way he holds himself, the way he feels. Even his eyes look different, like he morphs into some psycho pony.

Can't have this, it's not safe for either of us. Don't blame him at all for spooking at mystery yelling and running cows, but not being able to bring him back to me and focus is no good.

I can't control our environment, so we need to be able to deal with the unexpected and get through to that Arab brain. It's not like he hasn't been spook-busted.

Max is mostly sensible, affable, kind and well mannered... But when he truly loses it, he's scary.

Haven't lost my nerve yet, but feel I'm teetering on the edge of it.

A friend has suggested doing some work on inside rein to re-gain focus, vibrating until ear cocks and then stopping. She said I could try that with clicker as an exercise.

This problem with Max seems to have been creeping up on us for a few months now, and needs to be nipped in the bud before it turns into a proper issue.

The Ent doesn't want Max and me to go out alone again until this is sorted. He thinks one or both of us will get hurt. He might be right about that. So far I've managed to keep things together and get us home, but it's been luck and grim determination.

If Max is just badly wired though, how is anybody going to help us?

I know I have to make it work and make Max trust me enough to feel it is safe to listen to me even when he is scared or excited.

It's overwhelming to think about it all now, so I'm going to have to just do it a bit at a time.

But for all that, he's still my best boy.

The Arab Mist

Just back from the yard, where I had a word with myself after I let Max into his field. I was only with him for about an hour and a half, no riding, just grooming and having a feel of the lumps in his armpit. They aren't any bigger, but they're still there. I'm using my finger as a guide - they (feels like a cluster of little lumps making one biggish nobbly lump) take up about the top of my middle finger, from first knuckle to finger tip, so if it starts going beyond that, I'll know it's growing. Have been reading up on sarcoids and Liverpool cream.

Don't want to read too much though, because there's no point getting into a panic about sarcoids if that isn't what this is. No harm in knowing a little bit about it though.

I'm trying not to look every day because I might not notice a change then. On Tuesday, Max (bless him, he's such a good boy) let me crawl right under him to try and get a proper look. There really isn't anything to see. I can feel it for sure, but really nothing distinguishable to look at. A little raised along the edges now and feeling a bit like a scab, but under the skin it seems. I'm not picking at it but he still has no problem with me fiddling about.

On Wednesday, I had enough time, and the weather was fine enough to take Max out for a hackette. The bridleways are still pretty bad, so I knew we wouldn't get up to much, but I just wanted him out of the yard and out of the school again to see how we went.

I made a turn up the left bridleway thinking we'd go to the top and come back along the edge of a field, but there was a tree down, so we turned and headed back for the lane. Walked on a bit, past all the scary stuff, and he was fine. A bit alert, but nothing unmanageable at all. Ducked aside a couple of times to let cars pass, and he waited patiently, and moved his hinds out of the way when I asked.

I guess we were only out for about half an hour, 40 minutes, got up to nothing spectacular, but I was happy with it - calm ride, a wee stretch outside the comfort zone he seems to have established for himself, no drama. I put his jingle bells back on (it is December after all) and did consider that the little bit of noise might be helping us a bit. Definitely gets into a rhythm with his movement, makes a little noise to distract him from other noises, and it's hard to be uptight when I'm listening to Max jingle. It's a happy noise and it makes me smile to hear it.

Then I got back to the yard and another livery owner (who really is very nice and I don't want to diss her) said, "Back so soon? Did you have a nice walk?"

"Brilliant, really lovely!" was all I said but I thought "Why emphasise 'walk' like that? Why not say 'Did you have a nice ride'?"

I note here that I am perhaps a bit prickly and over-sensitive, especially since this woman is always telling me about where is safe for a canter in these wet conditions.

Her hacks are different than mine. She goes far afield and trots, canters, little jumps if she can find them. Fine with her old TB who has seen it all, and also fine with young hunter she shares, who regularly goes on hunts. Not fine with Max on his own. Not fine with me, either.

Course if the going is good and Max feels right, then yeah, I do the trotting and little bursts of canter too, but mostly my hacks are walking hacks. Is there some law that says they shouldn't be?

So that stuff has been going round in my head but I dismissed it. Then again today, as I set Max out into his field I thought, "Really should be riding or schooling, really should be spending more time with him. Poor Max."

Then I looked at him having his big glug of water and sauntering off to find The Boss after giving me a sloppy wet nuzzle. We'd had a great grooming session, he did some showing off, he had some attitude, he made me laugh (loads). He was affectionate and comical, same as he always is.

So there I was guilt-tripping and I thought, "Stop! Look at him! Happy, healthy horse. Not bothered. Yep, he does like to spend time with you, but he also likes to do this: just be a horse. He's fine, he's content. Stop with the back chat! You are giving him a good life."

By most standards, even mine, Max is one of the lucky ones. It doesn't matter that I don't spend every waking hour with him. He doesn't need me that from me. It's fine that he will sometimes go two whole days in a row without me "working" him. What does he care? He doesn't.

Yes, I've got an agenda of things I'd like to be better at, but even if I was better at them already, the way my life is right now, I still would have to sometimes go two whole days, or three, without taking him in the school or riding him because even with all the ability in the world, if I'm going to do something with Max other than groom him and have a cuddle, then I don't want to be under any time pressure to do it. That's my thing. Hate to feel rushed myself, and hate it more when I'm with Max because I know no matter how hard I try to move slowly and present a calm front to him, the clock watching always goes on in my head and that is not good for either of us. It's not harmful, but it takes what should be a leisurely, enjoyable thing for us and turns it into something else.

Then I think about how when I was a kid all I wanted was a horse. If you told 12 year old me that she would one day have a horse of her very own, the horse of her dreams, and not be spending hours and hours and hours riding every day, she would think you were insane.

But I'm not a 12 year old girl any more. I have tons of other obligations and responsibilities now and frankly, young me was a really good kid, but she knew very little about the difference between the dream of owning a horse and the reality of properly caring for one. She knew nothing of the weight and promise of that responsibility. She would not consider spending time feeling bumps in armpits. She would not worry about hoof trims and wonder where she could get training to rasp herself for her own peace of mind to ensure those hooves were the best they could be. She didn't know anything about how a saddle fit and less than nothing about bits. She knew nothing about worming schedules, feeding regimines or the dreaded laminits.

Neither would she watch a horse and sense discomfort. She would not walk into a box, see her adored horse of the moment and think "Hmm... something doesn't feel right here. What's the trouble?" and start investigating.

She also didn't have a bad back, or fingers that tingle and go numb so she can't really feel the reins or the contact properly.

So I shouldn't be listening to that young, uninformed child when I look at Max. She was very eager and had such a good heart, but she was a bit naive about the ways of the world and although she loved horses with all her heart, she knew very little about them, other than that they crept into her heart with nameless comfort and promises of freedom and open hearts ripe for devotion.

When it comes down to it, if you had gone back and told 12 year old me that she'd have her own horse one day, she'd have been grinning from ear to ear even when you told her about all the other worrying and stern stuff.

That part of my young self I can certainly hold on to! For all my world weary worry, sometimes it is 12 year old me that gives me a kick up the arse: "Get on with it! Make it so! WE HAVE OUR HORSE!"

Isolation

Dreary day.

I am and I feel isolated. I may be playing it up too much in my head, but I do know my limitations.

Max is ace, that's a fact. Brilliant temperament, sweet boy, sensible with it.

There's nothing wrong with his general handling, his manners on the ground are exemplary. He's respectful of my space and he's kind. It's just this new found strength of his that is doing me in.

He's always been allowed to have an opinion, so that's not a problem, but I can't contain him or control him if he gets the red mist, and that scares me. Sure, we've always worked it out so far and of course, even in the great outdoors, he regains his senses quickly and listens to me... even trotted over to me the last time he got away from me with the chainsaw gang putting the fear into him.

So why worry? Because it's so potentially dangerous for both of us. It only takes a second for it all to go horribly wrong. That's true anyway, of course, I could be the perfect rider and still come a cropper, but why ask for trouble when I'm not the perfect rider and Max is... umm... can't even say unpredictable, really, but we are not controlled enough together.

So yes, we need help with the next stage of our schooling. I need guidance and Max needs enough confidence in me to listen when I tell him that I have something important to say.

Am I never going to get on unless I leave my yard? I wonder that. Don't like the thought of leaving because it's an ideal situation for me so close to home and the hacking is great (if we could hack, that is). Great facilities, nice, supportive people and all the experience I need to feel that Max is in safe hands. But then there's the big "BUT".

I really need a like minded soul whose values and training complement my own. I don't want force, I don't want violence or shouting. I want Max to learn through patience, gentleness and joy, not fear or being overpowered, with his own wonderful personality and character swallowed up under my will. That will never work for me, and I don't want it in Max's life.

To me, the beauty will be so much more beautiful when Max generously offers, rather than feels that he has no choice. That's what I want, and nothing less. I may get results faster if I cow him and teach him that I am "boss", but that result would leave a bitter taste. Max willing and free is what I want. That will be poetry, and if takes me longer to coax a sonnet out of him, so be it. Worth the wait, worth the patience, worth my frustration and thinking it through. When Max finally dances... I want him to dance because he wants to, not because I've forced it upon him.

What a gift that will be, when we can do that together.

Losing my nerve?

I feel like I'm on the edge of losing my nerve with Max, and I don't want to go there. All those lovely afternoons where I could take him out for long walks in hand, I wouldn't dream of doing that now. I can't control him if he gets his freak on. He's gotten away from me out and about twice now, and my heart has been in my mouth both times, even though I've managed to collect him and get us safely back home. Perhaps I need to remind myself that I have been able to do that. Must be doing something right if I can coax a half ton creature full of fear, will to survive at all costs and bountiful muscle to follow puny me and remain calm. Calm(ish).

I feel like I'm that sad sack on the yard that everybody feels sorry for. The one that everybody feels sorry for and also feels slightly contemptuous of.

"Oh her. Poor girl. She's over-horsed."

I've not got hacking partners, and I guess that's OK in a way, because Max in company is a giddy force to be reckoned with. It's partly my schedule doesn't fit in with others, but I'm also very particular about the ground and the pace and I don't want to inflict that on anybody else. Max and I hacking are a groove chill, no doubt about it.

So we muddle along just the two of us, but it isn't easy and it isn't fun or relaxed.

Well, sometimes it is, but I can't really ever relax into it because I'm always looking out for the Big Bad and wondering how I'll handle it.

That's not even totally true. If I feel Max is relaxed, then I am relaxed too, and I have seen us through some stuff by keeping my head screwed on, no question. But at the moment, I'm feeling a bit lost and like I don't want to put us in difficult situations because I'm not sure that I'll cope.

Max wasn't anywhere near as schooled as I thought he was when I bought him, and although I've given him a good life, I haven't brought him on in a meaningful way (to my mind) because I can't. I haven't the skill or experience and I feel I'm letting him down.

That's emotive talk and says a lot more about me than it does Max. He's a horse. He's perfectly happy in his routine, his comfort of the box, hay and water on tap and a juicy breakfast thrown in. He's equally happy out in his field with The Boss grazing and playing. It would never occur to Max to ponder... "Well, she's a nice enough lady, but for goodness sake, I can't trust her on a hack and she never takes me anywhere interesting to gallop along a beach or try a X-country course. She really isn't bringing me on at all! All my friends know how to do shoulder in and I can't do it! She is SO lame!"

To be honest, I guess I've done pretty well to bring him on as far as I have to date, but I'm at stalemate now, and Max is mature and strong beyond my capabilities.

I shouldn't spin out on this, but I do.

Yesterday we tried again, on the lunge rather than the lines, and Max was right back at it.

Off he went, evading on the left rein, and dragged me away to the far end of the school. Not so much of a drag as me following with slight pressure to try and bring him back to stand. Didn't want to jab his mouth, but did want to try and figure out what his behaviour was about.

I said nothing, I collected him, I sorted him out and clucked him on. I just wanted him to stay calm while I tried to figure out what the problem was.

Off he went, no problem, but now we were working in the far end of the school rather than the near end of the school by the door.

He went like a dream. A sluggish dream, dragging his arse around, not proper trot work, but no evasion, no hauling me off, no trying to put a jump between me and him.

Could it really be that simple?

I did chase after him and growl, and got a few turns of proper working trot, but...?

I was thinking bit problem, teeth problem, some other kind of big painful problem...

Just doesn't like the near end of the school with the door? Could that be it?

Lunged for ten minutes each rein, and then rode for another 20 minutes at trot, taking him all over the school, changing diagonal, trying a few canters (failing) and bringing him to a walk, stand, rein back... "click" dismount and we were done.

Liquorice as his reward, girth loosened, stirrups run up. The End.

In the court of the Wayward Prince

That's where I live right now, the Prince's Fool, my jester's hat firmly in place.

Don't know what's gotten into the boy, but we hit a bit of a block, and have been bickering and frustrated with each other. Change of seasons? Maybe. Howling winds? Most probably a factor.

Couldn't get Max into the school until 11.00 and then waited for the 11.00 lesson to finish which cut my time with Max short.

Then Max was an absolute pratt on the right rein and kept cutting out on me and taking himself round a jump to evade my instructions.

We tried a few times, he kept cutting out, then he eventually exploded and I dropped the lines while he hooned about full tilt.

Watched for a bit, keen to see he wasn't getting tangled up in his lines, but whenever I approached he'd take off again.

"Right, you bugger," I thought. "You want to run like a loon? Then run you shall!"

So I kept him going. When he stopped for a breather, I waved him on with my hands and my lunge whip (nowhere near him, of course.

"Go on then, run, if that's what you want to do! GO!"

"I will! You are not the boss of me. I am horse. I am the elements. I cannot be contained!"

"Whatever. Run! Go on!"

He'd give a buck in my general direction and then take off at speed, skid to a stop and run some more.

Pretty awesome to watch, truth be told. My heart was in my mouth because he was doing the wild thing, and I was all about his safety as he kicked out against the school wall and turned so tight in a cloud of dust, but when I could shuffle those thoughts aside... Amazing Max, all crazy, hairy mane and flying hooves really going for it. Utterly breathtaking. Beautiful.

"Go on, sir! Do it again, you like running so much! Run!"

And off he'd go, looking quite rebellious and peeved.

"You can't catch me!, Nyah!"

"Don't want to catch you, hooligan. Run like the hounds of Lucifer are at your heels. Go on! Show me what you got! Bring it!"

This we did for a good long time until Max finally stopped and faced me, puffed.

His sides heaved and his nostrils flared red. He stood still and watched me.

"Done now, are we?" I asked.

"A bit tired, mum. Kiss?"

He offered his nose. Retrieved him with no words and no eye contact, but a little pat on his shoulder to say we were OK.

"Right sir, as I was saying before you interrupted..."

Tried again. Better. Fine on left rein, a turn at trot to right again, two good circuits and I quit while we were ahead.

Sigh.

"Good boy, Max!"

"Still?"

"Always."

Today we tried again, on the lunge rather than the lines, and he was right back at it.

Off he went, evading on the right rein, and dragged me away to the far end of the school. Not so much of a drag as me following with slight pressure to try and bring him back to stand. Didn't want to jab his mouth, but did want to try and figure out what his behaviour was about.

I said nothing, I collected him, I sorted him out and clucked him on.

"It's OK Max, you can't do anything wrong. We're just going to figure this out together, OK? What's troubling you? Tell me."

Off he went, no problem, but now we were working in the far end of the school rather than the near end of the school by the door.

He went like a dream. A sluggish dream, I'll grant you, but no evasion, no dragging me off, no trying to put a jump between me and him.

Could it really be that simple?

I was thinking bit problem, teeth problem, some other kind of big problem... Just doesn't like the end of the school with the door? Could that be it?

Lunged for ten minutes each rein, and then rode for another 20 minutes at trot, taking him all over the school, changing diagonal, trying a few canters (failing) (whatever!) and bringing him to a walk, stand, rein back... "click" dismount and we were done.

Liquorice as his reward, girth loosened, stirrups run up. The End.

Need to think about this one.

The weather has not been our friend for a good couple of weeks now. He may be bored with the indoor school - I know I am - but he seems to have something to say about being lined or lunged in the top half of the school, which doesn't bother him in the bottom half of the school or ridden.

That will take a bit of pondering to figure out.

The wind and the horse

We had a fairly dramatic and frustrating session today. I brought a change of clothes and went straight to the yard from the office to buy myself some time. Max greedily eyed the bagel with homous and coleslaw I'd made for my lunch.

"Gimme!"

I didn't give him any though and told him, "Everything is not for you!"

This did not go over well, though it was amusing to watch him opening his mouth and chewing, while I chewed, intent on getting a bit of what I had.

As we got ready, it started to rain quite hard, but I took him into the indoor school for long lining anyway and figured we'd be OK.

We did ten minutes of warm up, which was fine, and then were just going in to trot work when a flipping gale storm hit us. The heavens opened and rain hit the tin roof of the school like thousands of hammers,and the wind howled.

Felt and sounded like the school was going to come down around our ears!

Max got his freaking out face and stature on. He was on high alert and ready to explode.

I tried to work him through it for a bit, but even I was feeling edgy by the noise and tumult, so called it quits, took everything off him in case to prepare for an explosion.

He had a roll.

I was happy he felt safe enough to roll, but it was very short and he remained electric, really twitchy and stuck close by me with crazy eyes.

I had to grit my teeth to even take him back to his box because he was so coiled and the weather was so freakish.

Took advantage of a little lull in the chaos.Had a word with him:

"OK young sir, I know this is scary, but just stick with me. We'll be OK. Trust."

Got him back and settled in his box and then went back to retrieve his gear from the school.

Half an hour later, no rain, blue sky, but still the crazy wind.

I feel a bit lame for cutting things short, but I weighed it all up and decided I didn't want to put us in that position. Max gets so strong when he's freaked out, and I don't want the indoor school to be a scary place for him, nor do I want him to get an idea of me not being trustworthy or... um "authoritative" isn't the word I want, but I don't want him to sense me helpless because it won't do his confidence any good. So I think I handled the situation in the best way I could.

Feels like a bit of a cop-out frankly, but I will push those thoughts out of my head. Another horse, maybe I could have pushed through. but Max, no. I know he's a lovely, kind boy, but the feeling of him when he gets like that is a bit sobering. He's powerful beyond any strength I have, so I have to rely on my wits to keep him focused and calm because my puny arms sure as heck won't do the trick to hold him and keep him out of danger if he gets away from me and into mischief with anxiety.

Makes me think of my dad when I was a kid spinning out with panic.

"Deep breath in! Hold it and THINK!"

I'm not scared of Max, but I know I haven't the skill (yet?) to work through it when the red mist descends over sense.

Yeah, of course it makes me feel crap, but I do know my limitations and I don't want issues forming with the school being a bad place, so I did what I did. Judgment call in the moment.

Driving into a rainbow

Today was a day of mixed emotions, great sadness tempered with grief over the loss of Sammie which is still surprising in its intensity.

Today, I went to meet the New Girl. She is not a replacement. No horse can ever replace Sammie, and it's not fair on her, let alone disrespectful of Sammie, to think so. She is her own horse, solid, sturdy, young and full of promise.

I felt great excitement as I drove the distance between my yard and hers. Giddy at the thought of a new horse to love and welcome of my "family" of horses, those that aren't mine, but are in my life because they belong to my friends.

It was pouring rain, torrential. I stopped to get petrol and then continued of my journey. Two things happened.

My CD player in my little truck holds six CDs. As I drove away from the petrol station, the CD player clicked onto a new CD, one that I have been skipping over for the past few weeks. It was "my Sammie music" that began to play.

Yes, there is a back story here. At the beginning of September, I was watching "Beatles night" on BBC2. Documentaries, new footage, clips from "Help", "Hard Day's Night" and "Yellow Submarine". It was a brilliant night of television. Had me grinning and singing along, laughing at the wit of the Fab Four in interviews and remembering how much I loved The Beatles.

The next morning, I dug through my CDs and could only find "Magical Mystery Tour", so I took that to my car, swapped out "My Chemical Romance" which I had rather overplayed, and was delighted to hear a number of old favourites that I'd forgotten about.

Very shortly after that, we had the first news of Sammie going lame. Over the next few weeks, I had quite a few drives over to visit Sammie and offer support to the singular horse himself, and his human, who is as dear to me as she was to Sammie.

The journey between my house and Sammie's yard was perfectly times by the Magical Mystery CD. As I arrived at the yard, it was to the end of "All You Need is Love", the last song on the CD. Although, strictly speaking, I always played "I am the Walrus" twice because it's so good I always give it a repeat.

Again, on the last trip, the evening when I did that final drive, knowing Sammie was no longer with us, I listened again, and "All You Need is Love" had me in tears as I arrived and pulled into my friend's driveway, knowing there was little I could do or say to comfort her, but my presence, I hoped, would be enough.

I drove home that night in silence, and although I did not remove the CD from my car, I didn't allow it to play in the intervening time.

But here I was driving, "Roll up for the Magical Mystery Tour, step right this way..." and I felt the tears prickle.

The other thing that happened as the music started, is that the rain stopped. The sun came out, and as I drove on, a brilliant rainbow appeared directly in front of me.

Oh, it's a natural phenomenon, no question. And the music was incidental, it just happened to be next CD up for play, and I just happened not to click past it as I had been doing.

But something about the two together, the rainbow and my Sammie music, lifted my heart and made me hopeful. The future with the New Girl bodes very good indeed. Very right. As it should be. With Sammie's approval.

Man, did that orange monkey stamp his mark on this world! And through him, because of him, the New Girl will thrive and carry on the story.

Sammie will never completely be "was" in my head, but always "is" because he is so entwined in the life that goes on. He is so much a part of the going forward. He was so keenly interested in other horses, and he had a sense of himself that was commanding.

He is the firm foundation that the New Girl sets her sturdy hooves upon, and he is the rock that my friend can lean upon when she's not sure sure what to do with an open youngster.

We can't see him, and I hate that we can't see him, but he is not gone from us.

Nothing is forgotten, and nothing is left behind as we go forward.

Should I be worried

Why? I was still in the middle of my dance of joy over being an auntie (new horse to love on the horizon) and now I am in the stillness of, "Uh oh... what's that?"

Yesterday I was giving Max a scritch in his armpits because that's one of his favourite scritchy spots. Found a little something in the folds at the top of his left foreleg.

Thought it was caked mud. Wasn't.

Thought it was a scab. Wasn't.

Little lump, smooth, Max not bothered by me poking at it, but we were in the indoor school when I discovered it and the light was not good so I couldn't get a good look.

Tied him up outside in the sunlight (by the way, that's what it's called right? When the big yellow disc appears in the sky and makes things feel a bit warm? I think I remember that's called sunlight).

Bless him, I crouched down to have a look, and Max, seeing what I was doing, assumed the position (bow for a carrot stretch) and that caused a bit of confusion.

"No Max, just stand up, please, sir."

"Oi! Where's my carrot! Shall I stamp? I think I will."

Eventually got fellow yard bird over to have a look and feel as I held his leg up while she had a rummage.

She at least confirmed I'm not insane, there is something there, and it feels like it's under the skin. Grey little lump. She didn't know what it was though.

Sarcoid? Could it be?

And even if it is a teensy sarcoid, which it might not be, that's no reason for me to freak out, is it?

He's all grey wrinkly skin at the top of his forelegs anyway, so the fact that this lump appears to be grey is not conclusive and it's really small.

There was a suggestion that it might be a tick bite. Possible, though funny place for a tick bite.

Horsey friend to the rescue! A friend popped by at the yard to have a look and feel and tell me whether I should be worried.

Verdict is watch and wait for now.

Thought it was one little lump when I first felt yesterday, but it's actually a cluster of three or so.

We decided they don't feel like ticks. Could be any number of things really, very small and in an area that won't bother him particularly, no chance of his girth rubbing there to irritate.

I'm instructed to have a feel every few days or so and make sure they're not getting bigger or spreading. But if they do either, vet.

Might resolve on their own, who knows?

He sure doesn't mind them being prodded, though, and he let my friend use his leg to hoik herself back to standing with no complaint.

She complimented me on his manners, actually. Stepped back from his door politely when she entered, and after a few moments of being curious of new person "Oi! Who you? Let me get to the measure of you", we was perfectly well behaved while she hung all over him.

Should I be worried? Probably not. Alert is what I will be instead.

He's a gent, my Max (except when he isn't [image] )

Maximus Puddle Duck

I had Max out for a mini hack. Not much time when I knew I had to catch a train to London for a mystery date, but the weather was fine so off we went. Had a bit of a problem with a HUGE puddle, but we got past it. Through it, more correctly.

One almighty nap up along the ridge that took a while to work out - we turned, and turned, and turned some more - and I felt a bit more forceful than I like. My "forceful" is not very forceful in the great scheme of things. Got him going in the end with a thwack of the whip on my boot and a, "For Heaven's Sake, Max, get on with you! Enough with the foolishness!" but felt really crap about it.

I don't like seeing Max's head come up like he thinks I'm going to hit him. Really hate forcing him forward when he's in a tangle (over who knows what and always wonder if he sees something, knows something that I don't), but I know sometimes I'm not firm enough, too, so I do need to persevere.

Always feel like I have to apologise afterwards though!

When we met the big puddle again on our way home though, was not forceful at all and felt much happier. Just sat there and let him work it out. I knew we were in the perect situation to do just that. Home on the horizon, he knew where he was, no worries, all the time in the world to work it out.

A big stand and stare. I could feel it all going on. He wanted to turn and run from the puddle, but doing that would take him away from home. His natural curiosity also works in my favour on this stuff.

More Stand and stare. All rigid. A little relax, a little snaky neck, a few steps forward, head lowered.

"By God What is this thing? What new devilry is this, eh? I cannot fathom it!"

A step back. Stand and stare, all rigid...

Then forward again, head low. A stamp, a splash, and finally through!

"Good boy, Max!"

This next will make you laugh or roll your eyes. Or both.

Here be the Words of Wisdom:

Got back to the yard and YO asked, "How was he?" as she always does.

Said he was brilliant, but the bridleways are treacherous, which they are. Really slippy, like ice, and going down the hill (I considered getting off, but more on that later) I could see all the sliding hoofprints of horses who had lost their footing before us.

"Well," YO said, "Of course Max will find it more difficult because he's not shod. He's got no grip, has he?"

BWAH HA HA HA HA!

Shoeless horse has no grip in mud! Oh please! My sides are aching!

I was loosening Max's girth as she said it, and just tucked my head into his shoulder because I was laughing and knew nothing I could say would disabuse her of that, frankly, ridiculous notion!

I came away from the girth adjusting with a straight face and said, "Oh, he was like a mountain goat! Really sure footed!"

Thing is, he was just that. He's a notorious stumble bum, my Max, looking everywhere but where he's going, so trips over every root in the ground and big rocks. Pleas of "Max! Max Pay attention!" fall on deaf ears.

It was so slippy I considered, and very nearly did dismount to lead him down the hill, but he seemed so set on picking his own way!

So I slipped the reins (kept contact but let him get his head down low because he was keen to look where he was putting his feet) took my weight away from his fronts and let him find his way down the slippy hill.

He was brilliant! Absolutely trustworthy, carefully picking his path, hesitating, then finding purchase and carrying on.

What a good Max! I was so delighted with him, and he was pretty delighted with himself, too.

Some days I'm just so proud of him! Reminds me of what I always thought confidence and horsemanship should be. It is not just about being a confident rider. For me the emphasis is on mutual confidence. It's knowing when to quell my own doubts and trust Max to get us through the tricky stuff, just like he should trust me enough to go forward through big puddles when I say it's safe.

When it counts, that mutual confidence we work so hard to build between us is what could get us out of a very bad situation. That is confidence and partnership.

I love my boy and the learning about the big bad world we do together. Even though he is barefoot and therefore totally unable to find his grip in mud. I may invest in four suction cups fitted to keep us safe.

So easy when you get it right!

Perhaps I should be touching wood in the hope that I don't jinx anything, but Max and I have hit one of those grooves where it all seems to be coming together effortlessly.

It's not been effortless at all, for either of us. We've been back-stepping and covering old ground. I've been observing, reading, asking questions of knowledgeable horsey colleagues and making adjustments.

I have had Max's Pee Wee bit adjusted to the re-training setting after a few sessions of evasion and even getting his tongue over the bit once (which was alarming!). He was going well on the new setting, but just recently has objected in a way that has made me wonder if he needs the equine dentist. There's evasion, and then there's distress and I am never happy to see Max distressed.

We moved back to his Dr Cook's bitless for long-lining so I could see if that was better. I have a few niggles with the Dr Cook's; the noseband sits very low and interferes with the cyst on Max's nose. I've adjusted it upwards to avoid that, which probably makes it less effective, but effective enough for us to have a very good lining session on Sunday.

Oh, there was attitude all right, at first, and I was trying to work him through it with a watchful eye. We got into a muddle because I was holding the long lunge whip and it just feels like too much stuff in my hands, so I discarded it, concentrated on the position of my hands, keeping my wrists supple and elastic, and driving him on with stomps, insistent growls and getting up close and personal.

In the midst of all this flapping about and energy, I also managed to get my body in the right position and suddenly it was all change! Max went forward beautifully, picking up his feet, powering through from his hinds, and light in my hands up front, so that just the slightest squeeze from my fingers was met with directional change.

Then I'd lose it, and he'd slow and look a bit lost, then I'd get it back and off he'd power again. I can't describe the trot really. It's not exactly floaty (I don't know if my hairy pony does "floaty") but something akin to it.

We tried again today, back in his Pee Wee bit, but that was adjusted back to the normal setting to see how he'd get on.

We warmed up for 10 minutes, getting the feel of it, me, eyes like a hawk watching his mouth for any signs of discomfort, but after mouthing a little, he settled and seemed happy enough.

Off we went on our trot round me. I am not still and unmoving in the centre, I goe with him, try to stay slightly behind so as not to block him, and close enough to drive him on with my own energy and the occasional "Stop slouching, sir! Energy! Let's go! Scoot, scoot, scoot!"

Clever boy, he has learned to respond to "Scoot!"

Again, I dropped the whip to keep my hands free and sensitive, again I found the right position and off he went like an absolute star, really using his body well and holding himself together with such ease and grace.

He'll never be elegant, my Max, but he's certainly elegant enough for me.

We didn't have to stop and collect ourselves when my 10 minute timer on the left rein rang, just slowed to walk, turned him on the right rein and off we went again.

Just ten minutes warming up and ten minutes good working trot on each rein and then finishing with a flourish of canter on each rein just to see if we could.

Short session, but meaningful and very worthwhile. I'd much rather have him work well for a short time and end on an up than keep after him just for the sake of totting up the minutes.

Finally I walked him back towards the door and his head collar. Asked for stand and got it while I collected his long lines, wrapped them up and clipped them to his roller, then finally bridle off and head collar on. He didn't move an inch.

I offered him a gobful of pony nuts.

"Max, that was brilliant. How splendid are you?"

He got that look I love, the eager eye, delighted chomping and a small sigh as he puffed at the end of his exertion and concentration.

"I did good?"

"Couldn't ask for better, my boy. You were totally 'wow'!"

A pause while he chomped, then lowered head into my arm.

"You did good, too. So clear. I really understood what you were asking this time. Ask like that more often, ok?"

That's the thing with horses. They are brilliant teachers. When it's not going to plant, you do well to look to yourself before blaming it on your ned. The ease of these past few sessions has been more about me getting it right so that Max could get it right too, not the other way around. He is such a forgiving teacher.

Now I just want to get better. How do I do that? Practice! Kind hands with tweaks of pressure, good body language and body position equals clarity for Max. He's always generous and tries so hard, but when I am clear, we go to a whole new level.

Life is all about communication, and there's no better guide to the fine points of communicating than an expressive horse who is allowed to speak his mind. Let him speak, and you have a mentor and a partner. Force his silence, and you have a servant. I know which I prefer.

So solid Max

Some days are remarkable because they are unremarkable.

Today, Max and I had a remarkably unremarkable day.

Lots of time during my morning yard shift to stop for a chat and a play with the boy. Also leisurely enough to spend some time fussing the others, particularly a fairly new mare who is not keen on sharing her space and is a little shy about sudden movements. I had just put her hay down and she snapped at me.

"Oi, Madam! Manners!" I declared, and pointed at her nose.

Poor girl. Although I had done nothing threatening, nor had I touched her, her eyes told me she was afraid.

"Hey you," I said softly. "Nobody will hurt you here. No need for that."

I started scratching along her neck, and she stuck her head way up, stretched very tall, and wibbled her lip at me. So on we went, big long scratch on both sides of her neck, and at the end of it, the mare who likes nobody in her space was very happy for me to forage for droppings and pick them out with my fork while she munched happily at her hay.

Love the little breakthroughs and honestly, it doesn't take much to show a horse you mean no harm. She'll remember, and I will, and we shall build from there.

Had a convenient break at eleven o'clock when I surprised Max by entering his domain with his grooming box, saddle and bridle.

"Eh? We went out already. We don't do Wednesdays."

"Today we do Wednesdays, beautiful boy, and I promise, short and sweet, no drama."

That was a big promise to make, but I was determined to have an uneventful, easy hack and blow me down, didn't we just go and do exactly that!

Up the lane he went willingly. Tried a sneaky turn around for home when we had to detour into a lay-by to let a car pass us. Well, it should have passed us, but eager driver, obviously horsey, and looking disarmingly like she descended rightfully from the House of Windsor, rolled down her window for a chat.

"He's gorgeous! Is he a Highland?"

"He looks it, doesn't he? Fjord/Arab, believe it or not."

"How extraordinary!" the driver declared, smiling. "He's very handsome. What an interesting mix. I see it now, the Fjord, anyway."

"Slightly more slender legs, I think!" I offered.

"Yes, yes, I see!" she agreed. "He's quite young?"

"Seven, but very low mileage."

"Ah. Young enough, then. Very beautiful. What a kind eye!"

Flattery will get you everywhere when it comes to Max, but that was honest flattery. He does have a kind eye and a kind nature to go with it.

We waved a cheery goodbye, and Max made a little attempt to scarper for home, but I was having none of it.

"Max, we've been out for two minutes! Didn't I say this is going to be short and sweet? Forward."

Snort reply, but forward, too.

Off we went again, up the lane, past the pigs and the new gate which makes Max have a huff and a nod, then past our usual two left or right bridleway turn-offs, up past the farmhouse, more pigs, and then left to do "the triangle".

"You've been here before, love, but not recently. Easy path. Home in no time! Nice to be off the road, isn't it?"

"Comfy soft, yes."

And there we have it. We continued on, Max snorting happily (such a lovely sound)feeling completely relaxed through his belly and neck. One hesitation at a big wadge of mud and bark in the middle of the lane which looked a teensy bit menacing for a couple of seconds, so we had to have a stop and stare. Then a determined stride forward to figure out what nature of beast this mass was.

'Twas nothing, and Max got a few pony nuts for being so brave and stomping right through the menace.

Rather than turn left back onto the path home, we deaked into the field on the other side of the path, and had a lovely, relaxed canter up the hill until we could join our path again and find our way home. I listened to his sturdy unshod hooves thumping the ground, looked at the beautiful blue sky, felt the relaxed belly of Max swinging along with every step, and was content.

I've started taking Max back into the yard through the back way. A tip I learned from my friend, the Baker. Go round the front way, and you hop down onto the cement of the yard; go the back way, and you land on soft earth and grass. Also ideal for a "head down" command to Max so he can snatch a bit of grass while I loosen off his girth and run the stirrups up.

Funny boy,though! We've only done this for a few weeks now, but he's learned this is a very good ending to his adventure and after climbing the slightly flinty slope, he sets off at an eager trot to the gate where I dismount and he gets the juicy grass.

A laugh from me, a pat on the neck and a pony nut for Max, and appreciation from both of us for days that are unremarkable.

Spook rebuke

Clocks have gone back and I've had to re-think my Max time. Lots of overtime at the office, which has meant not having enough time to do much with Max over the lunch hour between my office shift and my yard shift. Over the summer, there was always the possibility of doing a little something at half four (although admittedly I was usually too knackered) but with the nights getting ready to close in, that's not an option.

There's always the indoor school, of course, but with a queue of nine to fivers with the same idea, and my dislike of leading my pony out to his field in the dark, let alone giving him time to cool down properly first so he won't get a chill, that doesn't really work for me.

I considered going to the yard very early and working with him before the office, but that throws up questions of whether he should have his breakfast feed before or after we work. Not fair to have his routine upset with no breakfast waiting for him when he gets in, and not a great idea to ask much of him for at least an hour after he's had his hard feed. Added to that, after his breakfast he likes to have a comfy snooze, so it's not the best time to be asking him to be attentive and working.

So instead, I went to the office very early and packed my yard gear and a bit of lunch in the car, so I could ensure I'd be free to drive straight to the yard and be out with Max in plenty of time to be back and sorted for yard duties.

The best laid schemes of mice and men... Arrived at the yard and got chatting with YO, then got chatting with farrier (anybody who arrives on the yard and sees me there assumes I'm working, even when I'm not) and then hustled to saddle up and get Max out for a hack. We had a good hour and a quarter before we had to be back, and I knew it wasn't the end of the world if we were a little late.

A fine day, and we were off at a plod, but Max was relaxed and we went forward with no commotion. For a good half hour, that's how we went, and then we had "gang aft agley" again.

We had gone past the alpacas, no problem. We trotted up an open lane, past a clearing, and we heard voices. Not in our heads, proper voices. All I could see ahead was a runner coming towards us, and he wasn't talking.

I moved Max to one side to let the runner past, and then spied a man further up, in the hedgerow. I let Max have a look and then urged him on.

Then another man popped up out of nowhere, near the first. Max had a stop and stare, and I returned a wave the two men gave me. The wave made Max want to turn for home, but I turned him back.

They waved again, Max turned again.

I urged Max forward, and as I got closer the second man said "We're waiting to start a chainsaw when you get past."

"Oh... OK..." I said, as Max turned back for home again. And again.

I weighed it up in my head, and decided best course was to get off and lead him past, as he was not loving two figures in the brambles, and I didn't want to hold them up.

We walked past, smiled, pleasantries, explained that Max was a bit inexperienced about hacking alone and we'd soon be out of their way.

I eased him into trot and then blow me down, didn't two other figures suddenly appear out of the brambles to our right!

Max lost his cool.

"Aieeeee! Demons descend upon us from the ditch! Retreat! Run for your life!"

He spun quickly and lurched away, me holding his reins.

"Help! I can't hold him..." and as the words left my lips, Max broke free.

"Look out, dad!" said one of the men, as Max barrelled towards him.

Dad was OK, he was nimble, and so was Max and they gracefully sidestepped each other.

I watched helplessly as Max ran away, giving a little sideways buck as he got clear, which raised my suspicions about how scared he was, because that sideways buck, I know well. That's the Max equivalent of a two finger salute with a "You can't make me do what you say!"

"Is he mad?" asked the Dad as I trudged past.

"No, just a fraidy cat."

I was cursing myself for dismounting because I'd have had better control if I'd stayed on board, but I hadn't wanted to hold them up from their work, and now I had a loose Max heading for an open field which led to a busy road.

"Max!" I commanded. "Stand."

"Max," the man echoed, "Listen to your mum you daft pony!"

I made it to the clearing and saw Max standing in the field not far from me. I forced my body language and my voice to be calm.

He jumped as I appeared.

"Max, really now!" I chided.

Bless him, he trotted to me.

"Bad place this! Shall we go?"

I gathered his reins.

"You've made us look like a right pair of pillocks, young sir."

"Who cares? You're kinda weedy really, aren't you? I'm way stronger than you!"

"Quite. You could definitely beat me at tug of war."

But who cares indeed? I was just happy to have him back in hand and safe, bugger anything else.

I led him back to the path, and called out to the men that I'd take him back the way we came, thanks for being understanding. La,la la...

In hand we went, Max very prancey, until we found a quiet spot for me to launch myself back up into the saddle.

"Home now?"

"You're having a laugh! Forward, not home."

"D'oh!"

We retraced our steps back to the lane, and then crossed over and continued our hack in the opposite direction, and we were fine. Max was frisky and forward, I was calm and stern (but not forceful) and our adventure ended happily with a sponge down and carrot stretches.

Tomorrow, we try again. There will always be Some Thing to overcome and we just need to practice and get more solid in our trust of each other. I can't beat Max on strength either, and he knows it, but today he showed me that in fright and mischief,he'd still rather be with me than without. I'm his lead mare!

I'm sure today if we'd had another sturdy and wise horse with us we'd have got past our obstacle without commotion, and if I hadn't felt under pressure to get Max past the men waiting to start their chainsaw, I could have handled it better for both of us.

C'est la guerre. Take the lesson onn the chin and go forward.

The long line back to Life

Absence. Silence.

I have been finding it difficult to find the heart to write here, in the aftermath of Sammie leaving us. I have been hit so hard by the loss, and it has made me feel distant from loved ones, including Max.

I have learned, and have lived, as an island. A rock. I am self sufficient, I am self contained, and I trust me, I rely on me. That's it. Or so I thought.

With Sammie going, I have realised that my life long dream, my inexplicable drive to have my own horse could be my undoing. For all my collected air, my Max has the power to shatter my heart into uncollectable bits and leave me... shattered.

It could happen so easily. A hoon in the field, a misstep on a path, an accident, colic, anything... Me with an empty headcollar and a world torn apart.

Max is dangerous. All the pretty horses are so dangerous because they can and will break my heart.

But Max isn't having any of that.

"I am here. I am now. We are."

So yes, through tears and a lump in the throat, I have been long-lining him. Back in his Dr Cook's bitless, with the noseband further up so it doesn't sit on his cyst from the wasp sting that made him snuffle.

He's been grand. He's been beautiful. He's been a poem and I have stood back in awe.

"Look at you! Handsome boy, look what you can do!"

He can break my heart, that boy, and he will. But in the meantime, he makes me laugh, and he makes me want to try harder to be better and make a better world, and he teaches me patience, and timing, and empathy, and how to live.

All the pretty horses! They can all do that.

But Max is mine, and I am his. Through grief, through storms, through the dark and the light, we will go on. We will face whatever we have to face together, and until then, we will live and learn to dance.

There is no better testament to Sammie than learning to dance with Max, and taking good care of all the pretty horses who find their way to me.

Grace

Today, the world is one fine horse less. The loss is significant and overwhelming to those of us who knew him.

Yesterday, Sammie lost his last battle. He fought to stay, calmly and with courage, and when the time came to declare surrender, he tried to prepare those of us who loved him. He knew before we did.

Today, the world is smaller and less beautiful.

We'll never forget you, Sammie, and all you taught us. God bless, orange monkey.

I know you're there!

A change of plan today for me. I've been looking for ways to create more hours in the day, and today, I found one.

I'm back to my old routine, as it was at Max's first yard. It was too far away from home for me to nip back to the house to clean up and eat before going on to the office, so I used to leave each morning with everything needed to make myself presentable and pristine, a change of clothes, a packed lunch, and voila! I'd change and scrub down at the yard, hop into my car and eat my lunch at my desk when I got there.

I've started doing that again, even though distance is no longer a problem. So far, it's been giving me an extra hour of overtime to get through the backlog of work at the office, but today it meant that after the yard work, I had time to hack out with Max fairly sedately, and get back to the yard in plenty of time to do an apres hack groom, carrot stretches, and another quick run round the yard to make sure everybody still had plenty to eat, and clean up any messes that had been made since my last skip out.

I arrived at the office fifteen minutes early, too!

Our hack was fine. The ground is a bit hard again, so we mostly had a plod round, with a bit of trotting when the going was good.

Our only incident was when we got to the top of a hill and Max planted in his red alert stance. He went rigid, and I could feel he was ready to retreat. I could see nothing.

"Get on Max, there's nothing there."

"Sssh! There is something. Some Thing. Promise."

Coaxed him forward a little and he stopped again.

"Max, I can't see anything."

"It's hiding in yonder bushes."

I looked where Max had his attention fixed, and still could make nothing out. Not a pheasant, fox, dog or deer. Nothing.

"For Heaven's sake Max, there's nothing there!"

"Hello?" a voice from the other side of the bush.

"Told you! Didn't I tell you? Some Thing!"

A walker stepped out from behind the bushes.

"Sorry, I didn't meant to scare your horse."

"Ah!" I said, with a friendly smile, as Max turned in circles. "I kept telling him there was no one there. He could see you, but I couldn't!"

As Max circled, the man told me that at almost this exact spot a few years ago, he'd done the same thing, and found an old gent on a lovely horse who said something very similar.

"Ah, my wise ol' mare knew you were there, but I didn't. I'm legally blind, you see. She takes care of me."

We chatted about horse sense, people sense, and the beauty of the day.

"Shall I stay here, and let you go past, or would it be better if I walked on first" the man asked.

In the end, he stayed there, Max walked past, noted that there was no backpack, therefore no hidden food, and we were on our way with a cheery goodbye.

So no, I didn't get to go home for lunch, I didn't check my email, I didn't play with the cats, but I did arrive at the office unflustered and still feeling the good vibe from a stolen hour seeing the world from the back of my wondrous Max.

And it was good.

Safety Dance

Max and I went pretty OK today, mostly, aside from a storm in a teacup, or a tempest in an enclosed space!

I had planned to ride him out into the world, but I do now tend to give him a lunge on a large circle first, just to take the edge off him a bit. This has been working well for us so far, warms us both up because I have do do lots of quick walking and jogging along, too.

But alas, we have low flying helicopters doing manoeuvres over our area again. Caught out a rider yesterday and her mount is about as bombproof as they come on our yard. Luckily they were on their way home on the lane, and ned was a pretty brave boy, considering. The girl came back to the yard in a bit of a tizz and said she heard the noise, and then this massive helicopter just loomed over them over the hedge. "So low! I could see the pilot's face! He had blue eyes!"

I had just been parking up at the time of this helicopter pass, and thought "What the hell?" the noise was unreal, and I couldn't see what was happening, but I thought my little truck was falling apart.

Crazy stuff, and very similar to what happened to Max and me a year or so back when I had him out in hand. A grey, overcast day, I could hear the noise of the blades whirring, but couldn't work out where it was coming from. Then beaming headlights over the hedge, very low helicopter, could see the pilot clearly, and Max turned into the Tasmanian devil on the end of his lead rope. He went every which way but loose (thankfully) and I remember thinking, very calmly, "This could be it" as I braced myself to be run over and trampled by Max gone mad.

I was tucked into myself, praying and then... nothing. I looked up at Max, standing at some distance, snorting and completely freaked out, but still with me, and still connected to me by his lead rope. He was ridgidly tense, coiled, but there; eyes on me for reassurance, but ready to run.

It was one of the most frightening experiences I ever had, but also a heartbreaking, heart swelling moment. Heart broken that my boy was so terrified and I couldn't explain and tell him there was no danger to him, and heart swelling because despite every instinct in him to forget everything else and run, he'd stuck with me, he hadn't hurt me or even jarred me in his terror, and was now standing, trembling, looking to me for guidance.

I know they have to do this low flying stuff for pilot practice (for search and rescue, they told me, when I wrote to them) but it's so scary when it's happening, and I just wonder about kiddies out on their ponies, let alone the rest of us. You can have the most brave-hearted horse ever, who will plod out in all weather, stare down all manner of weirdness and commotion on a hack, but a low flying helicopter is another creature all together. You're off the map. Here be monsters!

Advice from the MOD is to wear reflective clothing, because if the pilot can see you, he'll take evasive action. And oh yes, there' a toll free number you can call every morning to see if low flying is on the cards for your area.

Call me haphazard, but I don't think to call the MOD hotline every morning to see if it's safe for me to venture forth on my trusty steed.

So today, there we were, Max and me, in the indoor school doing our warm up lunge. I had turned the sprinklers on for ten minutes to get the dust down, and we were going along fine, until another helicopter. It sounded like the school was going to come tumbling down on top of us.

Max went loopy, but in a contained way. I didn't have to drop the line, because he went in circles around me, while I talked soothingly to him. I tried to get him to stop, but he wasn't having it.

He looked magnificent though, I have to say. Really high stepping, tail out like a flag (the Arab comes out in him at times like this and you would think he was a different horse all together, if you saw him).

The noise faded, I finally got Max to stand, and walked up to him, patting his neck and forcing myself to be really laid back, voice calm.

"Nothing to be afraid of here, sir. See? It's OK. I'd tell you if it wasn't."

"Fear, fire, foe?"

"Nope, just noise. Just you and me. Safe. Completely safe."

"Sure?"

"Absolutely sure."

We carried on for a bit after that, but even the noise of the sprinkler's water tank refilling had him on edge and he just kept this mad Arab extended trot going,tail aloft, snorting and eyes out on stalks.

He was beautiful, and I loved the beauty of him, but didn't like what had produced it.

"Sssh, Max. Calm. Promise it's ok. Listen to me. Safe."

"No! The world is not safe! Take cover! Hide! Run then hide!"

Decided to call it a day when we had a bit of hush from the water tank.

Max was all frothed up and truly it would do neither of us any good for me to be in the saddle and try to coax him out and about after all that. Yeah, I could have done it for sure, but wise? Pleasant? No.

So we wandered over to the school door, and I opened it wide. Max stood for ages looking at the view, assessing it, deciding whether it was safer out there or in here.

He eventually stuck his head down to snatch at the grass, and I said "Oi! We don't eat while we're working! If you're happy to eat, then you can walk on, young man."

Back into the yard and had a sponge down and some carrot stretches, then an almighty big apple which got him all frothing with apple juice drips and pretty much ecstatic expression of pleasure on that face, to replace the fear and high alert that had been there moments before.

Then out into his field to play with the Boss, who was waiting for him.

I hope that tomorrow I can get through the yard work fast enough to take him for a round the block hack before I leave for the surgery and show him the world isn't always scary.

Don't care who thinks I'm lame for not attempting to ride him out this afternoon. I will always take my cue from Max, listen to his opinion and assess his comfort zone.

That's my view, and I'm sticking to it!

Make your intentions clear

Max was teacher today, and admittedly, he was patient because it took me a while to catch on.

A friend at the office went to the green grocer's today to pick through the discarded stuff for her chickens. She came back with a bag load of baby carrots (along with a lot of other stuff) no longer considered fit for human consumption, but in perfectly good nick, and she thought Max might appreciate them.

There were far too many for Max to eat on his own, and I gave the bulk of them to my YO to mix in with feeds so all the neds could share, but I kept a good couple of handfuls aside for Max, and I went into his box with my pockets stuffed full.

They were wee little carrots, and I thought they would make a nice change for pony nuts, offering a little carrot bite for good behaviour.

I did not take into account the very sensitive equine nose!

Oh, Max knew I was loaded with carrots all right, and there was the problem.

As I crouched by his side, asking him to lift his feet to have his hooves picked out, we got into a bit of bother.

I assumed the position, asked for front left foot to be lifted, and Max turned his head right round to stare at me with the big eyes. He nudged his shoulder, he nudged my arm, he went further back and struck his belly, but he did not lift his hoof.

"Come on Max, don't play silly buggers, Up! Hoof up!"

He rested his muzzle on my back and I turned my head to look at him.

"What's up? Hoof, up! Up!"

No go. I stood and looked at him again, with his head turned far back, straining at me. He started to nod his head, seemingly with impatience.

Stupid human, I tried again, crouched, and said "Up Max! Up!" and instead of up, his head came between his front legs, and we peered at each upside down, equally puzzled at what the other was up to.

"What are you doing, Max?"

"Bow!"

As I looked at his expressive eyes, the penny dropped. Yes, he was doing a bow, and he'd been attempting a stretch. That's what carrots are for!

How much does that tell me about our routine, and what I've taught Max?

Every day after work, we do carrot stretches, back to his hips, then to his shoulders, and finally a bow between his front feet for a carrot bite.

We use pony nuts for lifting his hoofters. Always have done.

So I come into his box reeking of concealed carrots and ask him for hoof up, and he's smelling the carrots and thinks, "Stretch and bow!"

I stood up.

"I've got it wrong, haven't I, Max?"

Little head nod.

"You want to stretch for your carrots, don't you?"

Slightly bigger head nod.

"Shall I get some pony nuts so we can get these hooves cleaned out?"

Big head nod.

Oh, I know it must be the inflection of my voice that cues the head nods, but for all the world, it seems like a proper conversation.

So I went to the feed room and got a handful of pony nuts. I got all feet up when I asked, gave him the pony nuts, and then threw the carrots down with his hay for a bit of a surprise.

"Sorry for confusing you, Max."

"S'ok. Stick to the syllabus in future, eh?"

I am the egg man... they are the egg men...

We are the walruses! Coo coo cachoo!

Carrying on with our Beatles theme of last week, this was our best song today whilst hacking out. It was our first lone hack since "Fool on the Hill" as well. Max particularly likes the bit about getting a tan from standing in the English rain... I think it's the metre he enjoys; he perks up no end when I get to that bit!

My favourite line was "Man, you've been a naughty boy, you let your face grow long". I don't suppose Max thought this was quite as funny as I did, though. He's heard "Why the long face?" too many times as a greeting.

Pretty good going today as we hadn't been out and about lately, and we didn't warm up on the lunge first in the school, but just hopped on (at a new mounting up spot) went through a gate we don't usually use, then out into the lane and off with no hesitation (hesitation came later).

Quite a blustery day, so prepared for a bit of spooking but Max was fairly brave,especially as we passed the pigs' field, which contained not just pigs and piglets, but people and dogs also. The pigs were running about squealing so loud we could still hear them up on the ridge. Obviously distressing squeals, because Max got distressed listening to them and decided it was best to call it a day and go home where it was safe. I told him we probably didn't want to know what was happening to the pigs, "see how they run, like pigs from a gun..." and before you know it, we were singing about walruses to distract him.

We didn't get up to anything fancy, just reacquainting ourselves with the great outdoors. There was one very sinister plant which required a lot of snorting and a debate about retreating. We "charged" instead, thus taking the plant by surprise and rendering it helpless.

Happily, by the time we were jogging for home again, the pigs were alone in their field and all seemed present and accounted for, and best of all, quiet.

Back to school!

Poor Max! My holiday is not over, but Max's little summer break is done.

First day back at the yard from Rome and YO said "See! Max survived without you!"

Yes, of course he did, and I knew he would, but it was very good to see him again.

On that first day, Saturday morning bright and early, I turned up at the yard with marmite on toast, and had no welcoming whuffle, no head over the box door at the sound of my car in the drive.

I walked to Max's box, and saw him standing at the back, head down.

"Hello monkey boy!" I whispered. "Did you miss me?"

His head snapped up, and he looked a little stunned. Stared at me for a bit, in disbelief, it seemed to me, then walked slowly forward, stuck his head outside the box and quivered his nostrils at me, though no sound accompanied.

"Toast?"

Head nod.

I fed him by hand, then moved into his box to give him a hug and breathe deeply, so I could smell that glorious smell tucked into his neck.Ah! The smell of childhood, of hopes and dreams, and satisfyingly, deliciously of Max. He stood still, tucked his head into my back and sighed.

The horse and his human reunited!

Told him it was a passing visit and I had to go pick up the kitties from the cattery, but I would be back.

"Kitties? What are kitties? Why are kitties? Polo?"

From there, it went downhill for Max. Oh, he was happy to lap up the attention and direct me to all his best itchy spots that had been neglected for YEARS by his reckoning, but he was aghast when the saddle pad and roller came out, and he found himself back in the school, working. Working!

"I thought we'd given this up?!" hopeful dark eyes.

"No sir, business as usual."

Oh, he's been a bit grumpy all right, but it's posturing, really. Sunday I arrived and was met with, "Look at him! He heard your car!" and there he was, chattering away in his box as is his wont. Routine re-established, and even if it means he has to do a little work, he's happy with his lot.

As he should be. In Rome, I saw horses that really had to work for their living, pulling carriages of tourists around for hours and hours. It is a charming sight, to see those horses and carriages lined up, but I eventually had to stop looking at them. The same horses I saw trotting down the streets at 8.00 am were still doing it at 9.00 pm. A couple of them I noted to be lame, I could hear it in their footfalls before I saw it with my eyes.

Admittedly, if you weren't acquainted with horses, I don't suppose you'd notice, but I did, and the Ent did, too. A couple of them looked quite old, too, and could only have dreamed of the life that Max has, worry free, all his needs catered for, granted, an hour or so of "work" every day, if you can call a hack out or a bit of schooling, with treats for good behaviour work, and a gaggle of adoring fans to fuss over him, even in my absence.

It's a hard life for the critters, but some critters get lucky. People and horses alike.

I am well aware of that. But Max? Max doesn't know anything but the good life. Unlike many horses, he's never had a cross word spoken (an exasperated one, maybe), never been hit, never been shoved, never been cornered or made to feel helpless, never been pressed to keep on working when he is beyond tired, and always allowed to have an opinion (though sometimes there is debate involved).

I intend to keep it that way. After all, he gives me such a good life in return.

Rome is mad...

…and full of sirens, noise and commotion, truth and beauty, ancient and modern, overwhelming and intimate, utterly charming. And scorchio!

Tuesday the 8th

Main activity: Arrival
Weather: Warm and pleasant. No scorchio.

We arrived in the late afternoon, train from the airport to the city, and then a short walk from the train station to our hotel, “Hotel Champagne”.

We settled in, got our bearings, discussed our itinerary and then went out for a bit of dinner and, we thought, an evening stroll, perhaps to the Colosseum. Ambitious plans. We ate, it grew dark, the day’s travel began to take its toll and we retired to our hotel to sleep.

We noted with amusement that the illuminated sign for our hotel was not in full working order. “HOTEL PAGNE” it announced in quivering neon.

To let the struggling sign serve as my review for our hotel would be harsh indeed. It was adequate. Adequate room, adequate bathroom, adequate facilities; nothing to stir the heart with delight or horror.

Saying that, the one thing I thought I could rely on in Rome was a decent cup of coffee no matter where I chose to have one. This is before I was fully acquainted with the Hotel Pagne and its dubious breakfast room. The coffee was vile. Hideous. Undrinkable. There was a machine that whirred and declared itself able to produce cappuccino, latte, Americano and hot chocolate. These were all lies unless you like the taste and texture of powdered chemicals as part of your start to the day.

I was hopeful when I saw a separate machine that just had a spigot which offered black filter coffee. It was nasty and my hopes were dashed. For the first time since my teens, I did not start my day with a cup of strong, hot coffee. Oh, I could find great coffee just about anywhere else, just not first thing in the morning at our hotel.

Wednesday the 9th

Main activity: The Colosseum & Forum
Weather: Warm and pleasant with a cooling breeze. Intermittent spells of scorchio.

The first notable thing when we stepped outside was the almost constant sound of sirens. These mainly turned out to be from ambulances, and it didn’t take long to understand why. The drivers, cyclists and pedestrians in Rome are quite insane and all seem passionate in the belief that they have the right of way over every other creature in the city. The native pedestrians step into a road full of moving traffic and stare down any driver bold enough to challenge their right to be there. The drivers, in turn, meet this act of lunacy with grim determination to send the pedestrian scuttling back to the gutter from whence they came.

I think the ambulances are full of pedestrians, mainly tourists, who have not mastered the swagger needed to cow drivers at designated crosswalks. They lose their nerve and expose their vulnerability, so become prey to the Fiat Punto, their bones then picked over by the scavenging scooters.

We walked to the Colosseum, wandered around the outside of it, and in the mighty shadow of the ancient thing towering over us, I made my first excited declaration of the day:

"Ooh, look! Horses!"



We escaped the clutches of all the tour folk trying to sell us guided tours and crossed over to buy our tickets for the Forum & Colosseum and began to wander through the ruins, past many sites being excavated by teams of archaeologists and just tried to take it all in. I found it pretty overwhelming to be honest, such an immense area of amazing thing after amazing thing, all with plaques to read and things to be thought about and imagined. Just incredible.






We were at the Colosseum and Forum for several hours then finally left to walk through the neighbouring area. By chance, late in the day, we stumbled across a square where a few people were gathered and rather a lot of security was about. Then we heard a band. We stopped to watch, and were entertained for about half an hour by the changing of the guard.

The band led the Italian army boys up to a square. When they were settled in, they were joined by an equal number of sailors who stood on the other side of the band.

The band played the Italian national anthem and the army boys did some lusty shouty singing.

Then, with a musical accompaniment, one sailor broke ranks, paid his respects to the band, inspected his troops, and then sashayed over to the army boys and stopped in front of one column three men deep.

“Hello sailor!”

“Hello boys! Come with me to yonder barracks!"

The sailor turned, the three army boys followed him, at first stomping aggressively with their left feet in unison, and then dangling their rifles from their right hands like handbags until they minced out of sight. It was delightfully Pythonesque!

Then lo, from the building into which the sailor and soldiers had gone appeared one soldier leading a trail of three sailors behind him. He deposited them in with the other sailors, wished them well, and marched with the foot stompy thing again back to find his place with his army friends.

The band played, the sailors sang, and then all army boys disappeared into the building and the band led the sailor boys away.

This happens every day, we think, with the sailors and soldiers taking it in turns to guard whatever it is they are guarding. It was an unexpected highlight of our trip.



We then walked to the Trevi Fountain and found it, like just about everywhere else, heaving with so many tourists that we couldn’t get close. We decided to re-visit early the next morning.

We had dinner that night in an outdoor café. There may have been some ice cream involved at the end of it. We had music outside (wretched Celine Dion, Bryan Adams, Whitney Houston doing that “I will always love you” power ballad of hers). “They’re playing all the stuff you hate!” observed the Ent with amusement.

We occupied ourselves watching the television inside the restaurant, which was showing the Italian version of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire”. We couldn’t hear it, and of course could not translate what the questions were, so made them up as we went along.

Our favourite question involved a “cavallo” which we knew was horse, with answers that we couldn’t quite make out, partly because of language, and partly because of distance from the screen. In this case, one answer seemed to be "aggressio" and another "somnumblio".

We came up with:

“If a horse is given a radish when he is expecting an apple, he will be:

A) Surprised
B) Happy
C) Angry
D) Sleepy

The answer, for 5,000 euros, is C) Angry.

10th September

Main activity: Vatican City
Weather: Persistent scorchio.

We got up early for breakfast at 7.00 am so we could be at the Trevi Fountain before the crowds. No coffee. Knowing that there wouldn’t be any didn’t make it any less disappointing.

We arrived at the Trevi Fountain at 8.00 am and it was very quiet, as we had hoped. Not just lack of people, but lack of water; the fountain was shut off for cleaning. Perhaps not so much cleaning as sucking up all the coins that had been tossed in the previous day. Three men with sweeper hoses collected six white sacks of coins and heaved them into the back of a car with two policemen overseeing it. They also picked out a couple of plastic drink bottles that had also been carelessly tossed into the fountain.

The process of “cleaning” didn’t take that long so we waited. Not so an American couple who briefly made an appearance, surveyed the scene and pronounced loudly:

“It’s not working!”

“Well that sucks!”

They turned on their heels and stomped off. Had they waited but two minutes, they would have found the fountain in full flow no longer sucking so bad.



The fountain scene depicts Neptune’s chariot, pulled by two horse/bird/sea creatures. The one on the left is wild and the one on the right is tame. Or, perhaps the one on the left has been given a radish when he was expecting an apple.

On we went to the Spanish Steps. Ent pointed out the Keats/Shelley museum (next to Byron the Shirtmaker’s shop) and we noted that it didn’t open until the afternoon, so decided to come back for that. Climbed the steps nevertheless.

Top of the steps, me looking at Keats' house.



From the bottom looking up:



We walked on to the Vatican, along the Tiber.



Once at the square, a large group of priests joined the queue for St Peter’s just behind us, and we saw them again outside of St Peter’s. The Ent wouldn’t let me take a photo of them because “they are not comedy priests” he said, sternly. They were awfully earnest looking!



You can’t see the queue in this photo because it’s taken from the queue.

St Peter’s, tomb of the Popes, Sistine Chapel. This was wonderful and miserable all rolled into one. Irksome tourists were walking through it all at speed holding video and digital cameras aloft, recording all but not pausing to look at what was in front of them. Disrespectful! Of the place, of the people around them in the moment, and the people who had been there in the past, building and crafting what we were all there to see and experience.

Why take all the time to travel, plan your journey, pay the money, ensure that you get to such a place, and then pay it so little attention whilst there? Can life not be lived in the moment? Is the treasure you have travelled to see worthless if not encased in the plastic coated sheets of a photo album, within a frame or viewed on a monitor? Is it nothing unless there is a narrative and an audience?

The Sistine Chapel was amazing and strange. All through the chapels leading to it, equally bountiful with paintings, tapestries, incredible objects, there were signs reminding visitors to be respectful and quiet as “this is a sacred place”. Little heed was paid, as you can no doubt imagine.

At the Sistine Chapel though, there was a priest by the door next to a big “Silenzio!” sign and he made a valiant effort, shushing people as they walked in, clapping his hands for attention and shouting “Silenzio!” to no avail. The great din would not be shushed.

I wondered (silently) what would happen if I stood in the middle of the throng in the Sistine Chapel, out of reach of the furious priest and suddenly shouted an expletive as loud as I could. Would he bound through the throng and tackle me? Would I be trampled by the indignant crowd? Laughed at? Joined? Or would I create the longed for silence and therefore be forgiven?

Then I had to leave because it was too tempting a thought, as wrong thoughts often are.

Nevertheless, on my birthday, I gazed up at the ceiling and saw “The Creation of Man”. It was awesome,in the true sense of that word.

I am so glad I saw it, but I wish I could have seen it alone and in silence. I’m with the furious priest on that one.

We retraced our steps back to the Spanish Steps and I went alone into the Keats Museum, and visited the rooms he occupied in Rome a short time before his death. I loved the Keats museum. I wondered vaguely if I should make a point of visiting the rooms of ailing/dying literary greats a more formal pastime. Just Bronte, Austen and Keats so far (I think).

My birthday dinner was at another outdoor café. We passed a very pleasant evening chatting with our neighbours, a couple from California. They had both lost their spouses in the preceding two years. Don’t know how they met, but they were travelling through Italy for three months together. I guess they were in their late 60s/early 70s. Our conversation began when they refused a basket of bread that was offered, and I explained that I thought the waitress was trying to tell them that the bread came with the salad they had ordered.

They were charming companions for the evening, and we chatted easily about film, wine, politics and our collective travels. Joanne and Bill were their names, and we shall never meet again.

After dinner the Ent and I wandered back to the Colosseum to see it lit up at night. Was subtle lighting, but a wonderful sight.

Birthday sparkles. I even bought sparkly eyeliner! Warning - I am not photogenic and am much better in person. My grandfather said of this family trait, "In photos I always look like I'm a criminal or insane!"



Or criminally insane!

Friday the 11th

Main activity: The Pantheon, Circus Maximus, wandering aimlessly.
Weather: Relentless scorchio.

Well, sadly, this was the day I reached saturation point. Weary, not enough coffee, aching from days of stomping around the paved and cobbled streets of a very busy city, I was ready to come home. Unfortunately, our flight wasn’t until nine o’clock in the evening.

It sounds churlish to want to rush away from Rome when there was still so much to see, but there it is. If I had a comfy hotel, if I’d had a break from walking on cement and reading plaques, a little rest and relaxation, if I hadn’t spent days in the midst of a crowd (I’m not good with crowds at the best of times) then perhaps I could have regrouped and carried on with renewed vigour.

As it is, I am not a happy city dweller, and my feet were longing for Hampshire soil beneath them again, the smell of horse, the sound of tractors lumbering past the front window rather than endless sirens and beeping horns punctuating the traffic altercations of Roma!

And then there was a little street altercation involving me. You know how you are warned about being pinched by Italian men and it’s all a bit of a joke? Well, I wasn’t pinched, I was groped. Even a boob honk I could laugh off, but not this.

The Ent missed it even though he was walking with me, probably holding my hand, just a few steps in front of me.

A group of young people, boys and girls, approached us, a hand coming towards me, a shock, and then me connecting my elbow with his ribcage with as much force as I could muster whilst cursing him roundly and loudly. Hey, I grew up watching "Hockey Night in Canada"! I know what to do with my elbows.

A burst of laughter from his group of friends (I hope I broke a rib), an explanation for my outburst to my confused husband and a fervent desire to be on my way home and away from the careless jostling of strangers, even though most of it was perfectly innocent.

For the one that wasn't innocent, after the Ent got over his dismay, he said, "He picked the wrong woman to try that on."

Saying all that, the Pantheon was… how many times can I say “amazing”?



It is believed the Senate had the same sort of roof, those inlaid squares.





From here we walked, and walked and walked some more. Up hills, up stairs in the scorching heat, then suddenly, unexpectedly, down perfect, quiet little streets, pastel colours and shuttered windows. Beautiful.

Weary traveller:



We walked out to Circus Maximus and walked away again, found lunch, walked on, found a park, sat on a bench, read our books, and eventually made our way to the train station. Then to the airport.

Then we came home.

Arrividerci Roma! I threw some coins in the Trevi, so I will be back. Would love to go back. In off season!



Romulus & Remus



Overlooking the Forum

(Normal service for Max's blog will now resume)