A Winter Wonderland

So here we are, with a few days worth of catching up to do.

Brooke Fraser on the cd, cup of tea to hand.

I’ve just returned from riding & as ever the difference in my state of mind pre & post ride amazes me. There’s a lot of stuff whirring away in there at the moment but by the time I return from my ride it’s all perfectly logical & do-able.

Today I rode Cocky’s horse, Snippet. She is unable to ride due to being 6 months pregnant with twins. A trifling matter like this wouldn’t stop her normally, it’s just she’s enduring a particularly unpleasant pregnancy. If she’s not hurling, she’s fainting. Fainting & neddies don’t mix.

Snippet is a 15.2hh bay cob cross & because he lives out he is very woolly chap at the moment. We took a trip out towards RAF Headley today which is a stunningly beautiful old establishment nearby to the stables. It took 5 minutes of roadwork to get there & as ever, I was impressed with the general courtesy shown to horses by the motoring public I encountered. I keep my part of the bargain by smothering myself in fluorescence so that even myopic car drivers cannot fail to see us.

Most cars come past pretty slowly, very rarely does one pass without slowing at all & I make every effort to wave my thanks to each individual driver. If you’re ever the car driver & wonder why the rider doesn’t acknowledge with a wave but rather, nods towards you, then be aware ; the horse they are riding is a mentalist, whose reins they dare not release.

Far & away the most considerate road users towards horses are motorcyclists. Today was a case in point. From a long way off, I caught the sound of an approaching sportsbike being worked hard. Seconds later, a strapping 6 footer clad in black, blue & white skin tight Dainese (where was I – oh yes – horses) came hooning around the corner on his R1 at a respectable 80mph or so.

Upon noticing us he immediately came off the throttle & pulled in the clutch so that the screaming bark of his highly illegal zorst became no more than a muted growl. He came to a complete standstill as we passed, touched his lid in acknowledgement of my thanks & remained in situe until we were 20 metres or so beyond him. Funny thing is all the horses I ride are blasé about bikes but will run for cover when faced with any or all of the following terrifying objects

Hosepipes (snakes)
Flappy plastic bags (tigers)
Baby buggies (crouching lions)
Wheelie bins (who knows ?)

As for Snippet, who is the most laid back neddy I have ever slung a leg over, his particular terror is fence posts. Not just any old fence posts though, because that would be boring. Only fence posts which mark the beginning or end of a particular route. Fence posts at the entrance to a road are particularly horrific, which means that crossing a main road from a bridleway gets interesting.

The rider must urge him forward strongly enough to get past ‘the post’ but not with so much impulsion that you find yourself in the road without having checked for oncoming cars. Drivers who bear down on us doing a strange little forward & backward dance at the roadside must wonder what on earth we’re doing.

The last four days have been a total gift weather-wise, England looks delectable. The thick morning frost has been followed by glorious crisp, sunny days and it has been a complete joy to be outdoors.

Winter is a season we English do particularly well, the countryside looks spectacular & we even know how to dress. Not so Summer, we are crap at Summer. We become ridiculously excited at the 1st ray of sun, wear too little, burn, complain that it’s too hot & are generally pathetic. We can really get our teeth into Winter though. If you are wondering what I mean look at how well-heeled people dress in preparation for a day maiming small things.

The clothes are beautifully made & the materials are the very best of English reserve, tweeds, corduroys, houndstooth check, thick woollen socks & of course a stout pair of brogues. Splendid!

Malcolm & Justine are the perfect examples of good Winter dressers. Justine looks effortlessly glam all year round so it’s no surprise that she looks good in Winter but Malc is a man to whom fashion is a complete mystery. For 3 seasons in the year he sticks resolutely with what he knows. Come Winter however & it falls into place for him, he looks great when he leaves for a day’s shooting (doesn’t stop me taking the piss out of his ultra-posh zip-up wellies though)

There is something very wholesome & therapeutic about being at the stables on a cold day. Being able to ride until 10pm in summer is one thing but in some ways it’s more satisfying to ride swaddled against the cold, watching your breath condense & appreciating the solitude of Headley Heath.

I love the air of industry on the yard at night-time. Various small dogs charge about, greeting one another & sporting the very latest in flashing safety lights whilst owners rush back & forth feeding, grooming, mucking out & generally getting the horses ready for bed.

Happy Birthday to me.

Last night a group of us from work headed out to Oceana in Kingston to celebrate my birthday. It was a classic night, hugely enjoyable & an example of one of those nights which is good against all your expectations.

I was feeling a bit so-so about going & even considered backing out at the last minute. I kicked myself up the backside & went & was so glad I did.

Oceana is the 1st club I’ve been to that has sufficient bars to get served within a reasonable time and more importantly, the room to dance. With lots of different rooms & music styles you can find whatever type of music you like.
I was particularly impressed with the barman who said in reply to my request for a vodka, soda & lime …

Barman - ‘Sorry love, bottles only at this bar’
Briggsy - ‘Ok, what’s that blue one like with vodka in it ?’
Barman – ‘It’s rank & it’s 4 quid a bottle’
Briggsy - ‘What about the apple vodka one ?’
Barman - ‘That’s lovely & it’s only 2 quid’
Briggsy - ‘2 of those then please’

As ever, we made a beeline for the garage & r n’ b room & spent the rest of the night there. Milky & I finally left as they turned the big lights on ‘Aaaarrgh – that’s who I’ve been dancing with !’

Andy was on good form displaying his very surprising black man’s dancing. His poor girlfriend Kirsty wasn’t quite sure where to look as he dragged himself up & down a bannister, pointing to his bottom & looking coquettishly over his shoulder.

The award for ‘Duracell Bunny’ goes of course to Milky – he was quite exceptionally good value last night. Not only did he dance all night but he completely ignored the pain from a badly sprained ankle, sustained whilst entertaining his friends.

I’m not quite sure what the chain of events were, but one minute he was laying down seamless dance moves & the next, his right ankle gave way, catapulting him at speed toward me. For the rest of the night he had to dance on one leg, which oddly, wasn’t as noticeable as you might suppose.

During one of Milky’s pit stops, I was approached by a 20 year old sailor who was proving particularly determined. Upon his return, Milky thought it funny to walk past us unawares despite my mouthed, silent pleas of ‘Help’.

Thinking I’d ditched the matelot, Milky & I headed off to join the 3 day queue for our coats. Guess who was in the queue behind us ? He asked some very odd questions.

Sailor - ‘So – how do you 2 know each other then ?’
Briggsy – ‘I’m his boss (nods to Milky) & we are in landscaping’
Sailor – ‘So – do you live together ?’

I think if someone is brave enough to approach you in a club then politeness dictates you should be kind if the answer’s no. This guy made it difficult to be polite though & I was verging on being pointed before he finally got the message.

Sailor – ‘So, can I see you ?’

Briggsy – ‘No thanks, I wouldn’t want to go out with someone who was away at sea.’


Sailor - ‘No, it’s ok, I’m on shore-leave on a course for 2 years, I’d be able to see you lots.’

Briggsy – ‘Oh.’

Sailor – ‘So what do you think then, can I have your mobile number ?’

Briggsy – ‘I don’t know it’.

Sailor – ‘You must do, everyone knows their own number, where’s your phone ? I’ll show you how to find your number.’

Briggsy – ‘Err, he’s got I’t (points at Milky, I don’t know why he was carrying my bag, he just was)

I did consider giving him the number with one digit changed but figured he was the sort to ring it whilst I stood there, to check.

At this point sailor makes a lunge for the bag which Milky snatches out of his grasp declaring ‘How rude’ in very camp tones.

Sailor - ‘I’m gonna go now, cos I don’t think you really want to give me your
mobile number or tell me where you live’

Cue – Milky & I clutching each other in fits of giggles as sailor-boy departs.

Upon leaving, Milky had arranged for us to be met by his mate James (above & beyond the call of duty as it was after 0300) to save us the cold, wet walk home. James turned up in a rather gorgeous BMW & I was taken home in style (you DO sound like Barry White, quite disconcerting on a white guy). It was the perfect end to a very enjoyable evening. The only thing missing was the KFC.

Cheers guys.

I was going to do a catch-up Blog but that will have to be done tomorrow now as I’ve typed for ages & I still want to write an e-mail to my brother.

Until next time.

Cx