Cantering Leetie wasn’t nearly as disagreeable as I’d anticipated -- fairly enjoyable, in fact. Having received confirmation from Maria of the mare’s biting and kicking habits (she’d been bitten the day before), George decided it would be best to hold Leetie’s head for me while I tacked up. Leetie does not bite George – just Maria and myself. George says that this is because, “You both haf exciting backsides. I do not haf an exciting backside.”
Thus, with the help of George and his not-so-exciting backside, I was able to groom and saddle the mare with nary a nip. She squealed and pawed during the trailer ride to the track, but was almost lethargic when we actually got there.
I don’t mind a lethargic horse, now and then.
I was nervous riding out onto the track because it was my first experience working with Leetie and it was George’s first time seeing me in the saddle. Now, George is a very considerate man, but George is brutally honest when expressing his opinion. George is also an expert on all things horse related and is passionate about having the absolute best for his beloved mares. Possessing relatively little experience with horses from very novice instructors, I was more than a mite apprehensive as to what George would say regarding my riding abilities. I mostly expected to hear something like, “You call zat riding? Zis is how you haf been vorking my mares? You vill ruin zem.” But after trotting two rounds, cantering five, and walking one, George seemed happy enough to call it quits for the day. When we hopped into his sputtering old Saab (just out of the repair shop), he turned to me and said, “You haf a natural vay of riding. Just give za mare more rein and lean in on za turns so zat za she does not change leads.”
A natural way of riding. That compliment gave me butterflies in my stomach, swear to god.
We were planning on cantering Leetie Thursday and Friday morning while Maria was off selling her pates and terrines at markets, but we were forced to settle for lunging her instead. Shortly after George introduced me to his newly refurbished old friend the Saab, it hiccupped and died, having decided that it liked its new engine about as much as it liked its last.
Which wasn’t very much.
It was really quite sad. They’d been waiting for ages to get the car back from the shop. It’s Ireland and mechanics take forever. It’s a rule, I believe. Mechanics, plumbers, and electricians are not allowed to be timely in this country. It must be a part of preserving their cultural heritage, or something along those lines -- like the way there’s Irish above the English on all official signage. George was just so happy to get his car back. He patted it on the dashboard lovingly and said, “I haf zis car sirteen years. It is like an old friend.” When the engine died again, George merely heaved a sigh and said, “Zat is a disappointment.”
A few pictures from the market at Cahir (where I post all the blogs from The Lazy Bean Cafe):
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| You know you're a tourist if you take pictures of swans in Europe |
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