The Wobbleberry Challenge!

I'm almost never ill, but it happens. All week I've been coughing like a chain smoking tramp, and on Friday, I developed a streaming cold and raging fever. All I wanted to do was lie on the sofa and watch back-to-back episodes of Orange Is The New Black (which I've 'discovered' approximately two years after everyone else. It's awesome, although Piper gets on my wick - she has a shower scene every episode so why is her hair always so limp and stringy?) but I have two horses that nobody else in my family has the faintest idea how to look after. So I dragged myself up to the yard yesterday morning, all sweaty and fluey (my hair actually looked a lot like Piper's) and mucked out. I told the horses to behave as I was feeling dreadful. They immediately interpreted this as weakness, towed me over to some grass, stuck their heads down, started grazing, and were generally massive pains. Thanks for the sympathy, bitches.

Once I'd got home and collapsed on the sofa, still covered in mud but feeling too weak to make any effort to be less minging, Ian took the kids out to give me a break. I got stuck into Orange Is The New Black - and naturally, the family managed to return right in the middle of a steamy lesbian sex scene. I didn't get to the remote fast enough. The kids, who can spot trouble from a mile off, lit up with glee.

'What are those ladies DOING, Mummy?' 'Why is that lady taking that other lady's bra off, Mummy?'

My brain was too mangled with flu to come up with any remotely believable excuse, so I just let them put on some ghastly nonsense about evil cats instead wend went to sleep. Mother Of The Year, that's me.

I felt a lot better today, and managed to ride Angel. She and I had our usual argument about working correctly in an outline, but we did some nice trot work at the end, which was good enough for me. We've got a lot of work ahead of us though, given that we've signed up for the Wobbleberry Challenge. Aimed at slightly older riders like myself, whose nerves of steel have weakened a bit along with our pelvic floor, us Wobbleberries have to do a BE 80 level one day event by next autumn.

Eeek! I've always wanted to event, but it's scary. That said, I'm kind of a thrill seeker. I've always liked doing things that scare me. I've got no interest in jumping out of planes or munching on giant insects, but something challenging - yes please.

Me and Roxy did attempt a one day event at the beginning of summer. A baby one, just 60cms. It was a disaster. We did OK in the dressage, but when I turned Roxy into the showjumping arena, she trotted out backwards. It wasn't a good start, and things didn't improve from there. I'd foolishly left my whip in the car -why, WHY? - and she smugly turned in three refusals and that was that. We were eliminated before we even got to the cross-country phase. And the jumps were totally diddy. She could have stepped over them!

A few weeks after that, we did an Eventer's Challenge at Checkendon in Oxfordshire and got round successfully but I missed a jump (totally my own error) so we were eliminated. And a week or so after that, we went back for Combined Training (dressage and showjumping) and won.

And then Roxy went lame. Turned out it was her arthritis - and maybe that's why she was so erratic on the jumping front, forward one week and refusing everything the next. Anyway, I got her hocks medicated, but decided that eventing was asking too much of her, which is why Angel came along.The Wobbleberry Challenge is - hopefully - the start of our eventing career together.

So that's the plan. We're both unfit and don't know what we're doing, but we've got the winter to get to know each other and get into shape. I'll try and kick my addiction to Twirls - actually, that's going too far. One challenge at a time is enough!

Along the way, we're raising money for Wilberry Wonder Pony, a fabulous charity that raises money for bone cancer research. I'm aiming to raise £300 - hopefully more. I'll be banging on about sponsorship over the coming months, and it would be wonderful if anyone reading this would like to bung some cash via JustGiving. Even a couple of quid would be great - it all adds up. Here's a button to help you, look! And please stay tuned to this blog as I'll be posting updates on our progress. If it all goes quiet, then I'm probably having a massive panic, in which case please send me sympathy and Twirls. Thanks!

Dressage diva

Sorry, dear readers, for the week or so that has elapsed since my last blog post. I meant to post much more regularly than this, but I'm so busy, I barely have time to answer texts, let alone blog. My life is one mad dash from home to the yard to school to work to school to the yard to home again. I'm in such a rush all the time, I keep forgetting things - like taking Sam to Beavers, to my husband Ian's great annoyance when he turned up to collect him, only to be told he hadn't turned up due to his irresponsible mother forgetting to bring him. (I added the bit about the irresponsible mother, the Beavers leaders didn't say anything of the sort. Ian definitely thought it though!)

My memory is so sieve-like, I keep thinking it must be early onset Alzheimers. In fact, I had to see the doctor about an unrelated issue (don't worry, I'm fine) and told him that I'm tired all the time.

'There's something wrong with me,' I said weakly. 'I'm exhausted. I keep forgetting stuff. It's weird. I need a blood test.'

'Describe your average day,' he said. So I did. He said, 'I'm pretty sure you're just tired.'

I asked him if he could prescribe me something to make me less tired - but apparently there's nothing legal that will do that. I've probably got a few contacts from my old illegal rave days...But I'm a responsible adult these days (curses!) which means my options are a) do less or b) stop complaining about being tired. Option b it is then!

Roxy excelled herself this week by ditching her sharer again. It was during a riding lesson, and I didn't actually see what happened, but she does have a nice sideline in shuddering sideways spooks which can take the unwary by surprise. Sticky bum jods are always a sensible option when riding Rox. Her sharer has decided to go back to riding school horses until the bruises heal, which I completely understand. Luckily, I've got another sharer for Roxy, a lovely girl who hasn't come off her yet and seems to be really enjoying her riding sessions, so fingers crossed this one stays the distance.

I jumped on the little minx (Roxy, not her sharer, although hopefully I didn't really need to clarify that) yesterday for a spot of dressage. I was going to ride Angel, but as I hadn't had a chance to look at, let alone practice, the test, I decided to ride Rox instead as I thought we'd done Prelim 18 before. Turned out we hadn't - it's got a serpentine in it, and I've definitely never ridden a test with a serpentine before - but considering I was literally riding it as the caller called it, we did really well with a score of 64.04%. OK so we were sixth out of six but the highest score was 69% (my lovely friend Claire) so there wasn't much in it. The judge is known to be firm but fair, so I was very happy with my chestnut madam. She might not be kind to sharers, but she pulls it out of the bag for me when I need her to!

Here's our test sheet. It says Angel on it, not Roxy, but it was Roxy that I was riding! We've qualified for the area championships so that confusion could prove slightly awkward, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Got a rosette too, and I do love a rosette.

On Friday, I had a jumping lesson on Angel with Susie Pilbeam, the South Oxfordshire Riding Club (SORC) instructor, who really helped me get going with Roxy. It was in the indoor school at Attington Stud, near Thame, and mine and Angel's first outing together since I got her. She travelled nicely (although I really must get that trailer serviced as soon as I have some cash, I've been driven into and also accidentally hit a wooden shed with it this year so it's definitely due an overhaul) and was a bit spooky at Attington, but remarkably calm really. We definitely need to work on fitness and impulsion, but she jumped everything, even when she was clearly flagging. She's such a good, genuine girl.

I gave myself a day off riding today due to feeling like a limp, used tissue, but even limp, used tissues still have to muck out and feed their horses. I feel even more limp and, er, used (not sure this analogy is really working for me) now. But another week beckons, and with it, the prospect of clipping my hairy beasts. (As soon as I've retrieved the clippers from the Post Office, where they're currently languishing. It does annoy me - if you miss the post, they take your parcel to the sorting office in town which is miles away and has no parking, so you have to drive to town, park in the expensive main car park, then walk across town for the pleasure of queuing up for hours before you can finally get your hands on the item that you PAID TO HAVE POSTED TO YOU! Grrr.) It'll no doubt be another week before I get round to posting again, so see you on the other side!

Grooming

No, I'm not talking about grooming the horses. This post is about me. (And no, not that sort of grooming. Tsk. What is wrong with you? Filthy!)

My eyebrows are currently modelled on Liam Gallagher's monobrow circa 1998, and my hands are dry, cracked and resemble those of an ancient raddled old crone. I'm not alone in this - Madonna also has the hands of a woman who's much older than her face. Just saying.

As for my hair, it's permanently either windswept from turning out in gale force winds (the girls' livery yard is at the highest point in the Chilterns) or limp-yet-tufty from wearing either a riding helmet or the woolly hat I immediately replace it with to hide the hat hair. I'm in a vicious hair cycle.

What I need is a spa day. But as I have two horses now, and as a result, no money, the closest I'm likely to get to a spa is the 7-11 in Lane End. (That's actually a Spar but it seemed a shame to let a good pun go to waste.)

Anyway, if anyone has any tips on how to muck out in winter without ending up with finger nails that are as black as night, I'd love to hear them. I have some Sealskinz gloves but they appear to be massive gauntlets like knights used to wear - I may have got the wrong size - and they're a bit chunky for tasks like tying up haynets. Or opening doors. Or holding things. Alternative suggestions welcome!

As for grooming the horses, they're both woolly mammoths and I've just purchased a pair of Lister Star clippers (more expense!) with the aim of transforming them into sleek beauties at the weekend. This could be interesting as a) I've no idea how Angel will react to being clipped and b) I've never clipped. In fact, I've never cut any hair other than my own fringe and Roxy's tail. Hairdressing has never been my forte - the only hairstyle I've mastered is the basic ponytail. Even that usually has bobbly sticking out bits. I'll be posting the 'before' and 'after' clipping photos on here, of course. Something for us all to look forward to.

Ian says that since I've forked out for the clippers, I can save him the expense of going for a Grade 2 every couple of months by clipping him, too. That actually sounds really fun. What could possibly go wrong...?

Week of woes!

Well, this has been One Of Those Weeks. It started off on Monday with a £315 bill for new brake pads and cylinders (whatever they are) for my car - my towing vehicle, so I couldn't just pretend to ignore the 'KRRRRRK' of the brakes every time I applied the gentlest of pressure. On the plus side, a lovely lady came to ride Roxy with a view to being her sharer, and that all went well - so Rox now has a sharer, which is excellent as it will really help with her bills and keeping her exercised, which means I can focus on Angel.

On to Tuesday. I can't remember what happened on Tuesday so let's move on.

On Wednesday, I got a call from the school at 2pm to say Savannah wasn't feeling well and could I pick her up. My kids are never ill. They both had certificates for 100% attendance last year - I credit myself for this by building their immune systems with constant exposure to germs. (Not that the house is dirty, just that I have a lot of pets. That's my scientific theory, and I'm sticking to it.) Anyway, I zoomed home from Watford (where I work - not just hanging out there for fun) to collect her. She refused dinner. She's not a child who ever refuses food. Uh-oh. This didn't bode well.

Sure enough, I was woken at 6am next morning by the child vomiting. I then went downstairs to discover one of the dogs had had explosive diarrhoea in her crate. And up the wall behind it. And over the other dog. Let's draw a line under Thursday.

Friday wasn't much better. It's my day off, so I had loads planned - riding both ponies, the farrier, finally getting my roots done. Thinking we were probably over the worst of the tummy bug, I decided to press on with the appointments and take Savannah with me. This proved to be a mistake, as she threw up on the floor in the hairdressers. The left side of my head was, at this point, full of foils, with none on the other side, so I had the choice of rocking a two-tone hairstyle or pressing grimly on with the appointment. I chose the latter. I am a bad mummy.

I left the hairdressers sporting a 'Rachel' with an asymmetric fringe. Possibly, this was revenge for the partially digested melon Savannah had deposited on their floor, although they'd seemed absolutely lovely about it at the time. I tidied the fringe up with the kitchen scissors as soon as I got home but couldn't do much about the layers. Obviously, I left a £10 tip anyway. It was only polite, under the circumstances.

As for the farrier - although Angel may live up to her name in many respects, the mystery of why she didn't have back shoes on when I tried her was soon cleared up. She kicks. Sedation was mentioned - and my heart sank into the floor at having to pay about £200 every six weeks for getting my horses shod - but after an hour and a half of persuasion, the last shoe was finally nailed on. Hopefully she'll be better next time, once she's settled in.

By this point, though, I was an hour late getting home and had missed my Sainsburys delivery slot. Although I normally stockpile food in readiness for the zombie apocalpyse (still convinced it'll happen one day), supplies had somehow dwindled over the last week or so to the point where I had three packets of paella rice (no idea why) and very little else. My husband saved the day by going out and getting a Chinese takeaway, which was actually great. Even the little'un managed a spring roll without throwing it back up.

It's now Saturday afternoon and I can finally leave the house without a sick child in tow - hurrah! Sainsburys has delivered so we now have food, my lovely new sharer turned my horses out for me this morning, and Ian has taken the kids to their grandparents' house, so I can walk the dogs and ride - finally. The poor dogs have been reduced to a quick walk round the village in the pitch black by Ian, wearing a head torch, for the last couple of nights. These are my dogs - Spotty and Lola. As you can see, Spotty - a Jack Russell cross Beagle AKA a 'Jeagle' AKA a mutt - likes to dominate my sweet-natured labrador Lola. Lola gets humped all the time. She has a naturally sad face, but I still don't think she enjoys it much.

So we're off for a yomp round the woods, then I'll go up to the yard and do my chores and have a nice quiet ride. Bliss! Just hoping none of the rest of us go down with that sick bug now....

That thing I said about livery bills...

I may have mentioned that I do a bit of writing for Horse & Hound. Here's my latest article for them - a £16 bill from your farrier and other horsey 'misunderstandings.' Couldn't believe the response I got when I put a shout-out for true horsey confessions up on Facebook. Hundreds of people happily admitted lying to their partners - shocking, really. I mean, I would do it too, obviously, but mine reads the truth in my articles for Horse & Hound so there's not much point!

Talking of painful truths, I've just discovered that it will cost me £100 a day for my horses to be looked after for me while I'm away in Lanzarote over Christmas. £100 a day! I almost fainted from shock, and I still feel a bit sick reading that. Next month's livery bill is going to be more than my entire month's salary. Admittedly, I work part-time, and the whole reason I went back to a salaried job in an office after a year's freelancing from home was so I could afford a second horse. But even so, being kicked in the bank account really hurts. How can I quickly make a bucket-load of money? All I can think of is selling a kidney, but mine are probably ruined from years of wine indulgence, so I doubt they're worth much. Busking is out, as I live in a tiny village with hardly any inhabitants. And I can't sing. Although they might pay me to stop singing. That's a thought!

Anyway, I need cheering up, so here's a photo of me jousting. I love this photo.

I have what appears to be a thoughtful, noble expression on my face but actually I was really hot and grumpy in the chain mail and struggling to lift the pike, which was really heavy. And the horse was about 18 hands, so really hard to mount while wearing armour, and she also kept neighing wildly for her boyfriend in one of the surrounding fields. Put me right off a career as a knight, I can tell you. It's quite lucky that hasn't really been an option since about 1698.

Anyway, if you can think of any get-rich-quick schemes which don't involve selling my body or any parts of it, give me a shout!

Meet Roxy and Angel. And me!

Hello! I'm Amanda and I'm the proud owner of two horses, Roxy and Angel. They sound like a couple of pole dancers, don't they? Hence the name of this blog.

This is Roxy, she's a 15 year old 14.2hh Belgian Warmblood. Her real name is Fiorine De L'Etoile, which is French and means Something Of The Star. (Google Translate wouldn't translate Fiorine for me. Google Translate is rubbish.)

She's looking really happy in this photo, which was taken last Christmas just before a sponsored ride. Roxy loved being a Christmas Elf.

I've owned Roxy since June 2014 - I actually bought her on her birthday, 13th June, she is a Gemini like both my two kids (Sam, 7, and Savannah, 5, I also have a husband, Ian, two dogs, Lola and Spotty, and two cats, Tilly and Missy. More about them later). I rode as a kid - mucked out at the local riding school in return for lessons - but come from an unhorsey family so my own pony was never an option. I tried saving up and reached £14 after weeks of washing the car and an unsuccessful attempt at raising the funds by putting on my own musical, starring myself (I can't sing) and family members (they can't either.) Then I gave up and bought a Sindy horse instead.

So it wasn't until I was 38, after a break of approximately 24 years from riding, that Roxy came along. She's technically my second horse, as I did that novice thing of buying a wildly unsuitable horse that tried to kill me, but I think of her as my first as she's taught me all I know about horses. Which still isn't all that much, but I'm getting there.

Anyway, Roxy was amazing and although we had a few blips where she galloped off with me out hacking, and it quite quickly transpired that she had arthritis and needed her hocks injecting, we did tons of stuff together - horse camp (I love horse camp), sponsored rides, dressage, showjumping, combined training. We even won a thing, look.

But in September, I took her to horse camp again, and we had a fabulous morning on the cross-country course at Milton Keynes Equestrian, then spent the afternoon showjumping. And next day, she was hopping lame. The arthritis was back. She had her hocks injected again, but has only just come sound.

So my lovely Roxy isn't going to be doing much jumping now, as I want her to stay sound. (Not least because her hocks are now excluded from my insurance, so I have to pay for all her arthritis treatment myself.) But my ambition is to compete in BE80s and maybe even BE90s, hence the addition of Angel to my formerly one-horse household. Her show name is Angel Z -- which makes her sound even more like a stripper - and she's a 15.1hh 9-year old bay Dutch Warmblood. I've owned her for 9 days. So far, she hasn't put a hoof wrong - she's the sweetest, calmest thing. Long may it continue. Anyway, here she is.

When I told my husband I was planning on getting a second horse (I find it's best to give a fait accompli, rather than leaving room for negotiation), he said, 'Well you've got two of everything else, so I was expecting this.' He's a very understanding man. To be fair, he has three cars - a VW campervan, an Audi and a Mercedes, which suggests we're a wealthy family with a fleet of cool cars, but in fact, they're 'projects' that are just rusting gently away and taking up the entire drive so there's no space for the car that actually works. Still, he's happy and that's the main thing.

Here's a photo of me, Ian and the kids, so you know I'm a well-balanced individual with strong family values, and interests other than horses (mainly wine.) 

I'm a journalist - I write a lot for the equestrian press (check me out on Horse & Hound here), and am working on a kids' pony book that's actually really funny, it's just now I've got two horses, I've no time to complete it.

So I'm going to use this blog to keep track of my adventures with two horses - the sleepless nights worrying about how I'm going to pay their livery bill, the exhaustion from riding one, then another. That kind of thing. And also my progress with the BE80s. And some family stuff, and some of my articles, and anything that crosses my tiny mind, really. Hopefully it will be entertaining. Please bear with me!