Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder

Thunder. Magical Thunder.

If I was you, reading this post, I would hate it already; especially if you follow me on Insta or Facebook.

Thunder - I like both connotations of the word. Thunder as in 'thunder and lightning' and Thunder, my 17hh Irish Sport Horse X, 14 year old hero.

My use of hero there is repulsive. I am repulsing myself but the word is to stay.

All of my life I have grown up with horses; starting off with being put on a donkey by my mother before I was 2 and having a shetland for my birthday from my aunt aged 3.

For those who think that horses are easy, you should hear some stories. One I've got about my cheeky little shetland - Blackberry - goes like this.

Aged 6, I was cleaning my pony and making it all pretty and clean - as I went for the tail, I put some shampoo on it and rubbed in it. All very nice and fluffy and then suddenly, as I put the water on the tail, Blackberry double barrelled (clicked with both legs) at my stomach and threw me across the compound. Much to my mothers disagreement, she reminded me that there was some shampoo still on the tail and to carry on!!

True love is tough love I guess.

Thunder is a huge, fast, confident about everything but hacking and being caught, grey horse. He has four legs, a head, some fluffy mane, a tail and a huge crack in his hoof - that doesn't seem to cause him harm or recover.

He has a bum made just for jumping big. scary hedges and he has a neck that is brilliant for hugging.

A bit of history before I tell you how he came about:
I've had a few annoying ponies & horses in my time, a few that are dreams and others that are demons.

One, Heidi - a 14.2 arab X mare, used to rear every time we went up to a jump - how ever fast. I couldn't jump anything and after a few months I lost my confidence. No amount of kicking would change her attitude and it eventually scared the living daylights out of me.

Another was Sweep - a 13.2 Welsh Section C Gelding - bought for my sister who ended up hating all types of riding. Once Heidi had found a new home, I had the luxury of riding him and bloody hell, he can jump. Numerous days out hunting were spent flying over anything and everything and he was a dream. His fear of patting and stroking his face was very apparent - he was scared for anything, including his bridle being put on. But through time and patience, I managed to conquer it and he was finally over it - this time, as lame as it is, increased our 'bond' and made me love him more.

So when I had to move on it was very scary - horrid in fact. Was I going to get another Heidi? Or another demon of a horse. We tried out, or rather I tried out and my parents watched, lots of horses and ponies but none were 'the one'.

I tried out my mother's horse - Annie - who was fantastic and just before we were going to start eventing together - she had an injury which put her out of work completely for 6 months. By which I was told that she wouldn't be able to hunt or jump big again so I had to look for another horse.

At the same time, my cousin got Storm - a crazy, unidentifiable 15.3 horse - absolutely freaky and reared up on a ice with me at New Years - still wishing to beat her fears with her - I took her to school but sadly she wasn't what was required and got sold at the sales later that year.

The search was on. More internet sites were scanned and too many magazines were bought. Until one day I came across a big grey, with only one photo on his advert and the owner had only had him for 6 months and was already getting rid of him... ALARM BELLS!

I drove down to Glos - from Yorkshire with my sister to try him out. He was dreamy - as the cliche goes, I fell in love with him the second I saw him. He was incredibly muscly, toned and jumped like a ninja. There was nothing to hate...

I got told by parents that it was a mistake that I had to decide on, whether or not it was worth it and that they'd be there to support... I went with my gut instinct and got him.

About 2 months later, when he had thrown me across the road and nearly dumped me off him more times than I can remember - I decided that he wasn't worth the effort. So I tried to sell him - deciding that this must be the reason why the previous owner didn't like him.

To sell a horse, you need to get a portfolio together, of things that you've done with them and also photos... which involves riding and testing out all of his skills and during this time, I fell back in love with him...

Out hunting for the first time, was scary - he's big and could do anything, as I had previously discovered but actually, as it turns out, he is dreamy and absolutely brilliant at the whole thing. He stands when needed, he jumps everything he's put at and he's got the shoulders of an armchair so I have something to cling on to.

All in all... he seems to have turned out to be a hero.

But, as the title says, the beauty is in the eye of the beholder - my dad isn't the biggest fan of how he looks and I don't think anyone else is either... but to me, he's beautiful, majestic and just what I need.

Yours, jumping hedges..ly...

XX

Dinner At The Hamilton House With A Dashing White Sargent

'Highland dance or Highland dancing is a style of competitive solo dancing developed in the Scottish Highlands in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries in the context of competitions at public events such as the Highland games, where it is often performed to the accompaniment of Highland bagpipe music.'  

Some of the best hours of my life have been sent Scottish Dancing and long may it continue. 

From dressing up and having a good supper and then sweating the night away; you enter the world of Scottish Dancing and by the grand young age of 45, I imagine you know most of the world. 

And how the world is small. 

When my parents introduced me to this incredible world, I hated it. They knew everyone, the other children didn't want to be there anymore than I did and to be honest, holding hands with a boy was the worst thing that could happen. Or even talking to boys - when would that ever be fun?

Annoyingly, as proving my parents right, as time has gone on, I have fallen more and more in love with reeling. The culture, the people, the music, the ability to do whatever you feel, the structure to it and most of all the tours of the country!!

Holidays to Skye to dance till 6am and to Oban are just some of the summer benefits of the whole experience! 

Since being at the Royal Ag University (né College), I have started up the Caledonian Society with a friend, Theo. It runs every Thursday evening and becoming more and more popular. 

Maybe it was something to do with the 'fantastic', 'best ball of the year', we had last year. 80 people came and we made a seriously impressive profit. Only increasing my passion for events and party management. 

The title of this post is in reference to the dance names: Hamilton House, Dashing White Sargent, Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh, Duke of Perth, Reel of the 51st Division (Traditional and Aberdonion), Eightsome, Foursome (cheeky!), Inverness Country Dance and Mairi's Wedding, to mention the popular ones. 

If you ever get the chance to try it - my one request is that you give it a go. You may hate it, you may love it, but if you don't try it you won't know. And my gosh, its a good laugh!

The aspect of it that I love is that everyone ends up coming out of their shell and being themselves as it becomes the only way you can survive. Each person is their true self and the enthusiasm plus adrenaline increases their personalities; it is fantastic. 

My take home message is... Do it. Go Scottish Reeling. It is one of my favourite things to do and one of the best ways to socialise! 

You Were Attractive Until You Messaged Me Your Awful Grammar...

Apologies to all... Sincere apologies...

My grammar and ability to even write a coherent sentence is leaving a lot to be desired and for this I apologise...

Also, I have recently acquire a bit of OCD... for three dots. I cannot deal with 2, or 4. One, obviously, is a full stop; two screams 'I am unsure if I want to dot dot this but I'll dip my finger in the pot and see' and four is like 'mate... stop having an affair with the 'dot' button. But three is a happy medium.

Anymore than 4 is repulsive.

Yours dottingly,

XX

Anything Goes In The Name Of Charity

Now then...I can finally sit down after a crazy fresher's fortnight back at Ciren...

LWEYP... the reason why I put myself through sweat and chaffing for a full 45 miles... 

The Lower Wharfe Ecumenical Youth Project is a charity where LOVE is the one theme and the one rule is to love everyone. As corny and as frustratingly cheesy it is, its a lot easier to smile and be happy... than to waste energy on negativity.

My mother has a heart for others, she has a passion for children and young adults and adults, she has a passion for the broken and a serious dedication for those who need a shoulder. She is a rock for many. 

Many moons and visions ago; she decided to set up a youth project that is basically a huge comfortable and warm arm chair to people. Everyone is wanted, everyone is accepted, everyone is needed, everyone is vital. Her main vision of the whole project is that people, in this negative, technology driven world, feel that they matter and make a difference. 

Maybe a bit like Sainsbury's.. although its 'feel' as opposed to 'taste'...

The day to day work is run by youth workers. The youth workers run different clubs at schools around Tadcaster and have different Christian groups for those interested. There are camps during the summer and a live nativity at Christmas time... 

During my second ('cause I'm lazy and hate decision making) gap year - I spent a year working for the project. This involved, to name a few jobs; maning the emails, planning a weekend away, being accountable to the girls at the Monday club - CUBE - but also having eyes at the back of my head to look out for people who lacked in love. Lacked in motivation and hugs. I doubt I could have had a more rewarding time. 

A smile means a lot. Even if you know the person is already loved and happy... a smile can still change their day. 

I have no idea what it is about the whole showing teeth thing... or maybe when you make your mouth into the shape of a half-moon, maybe we're vampires... 

The long and short of it... Long being the bike ride, and short being the time it takes to smile (VOM!), this charity couldn't be more positive and exciting. 

Every week I get different stories, all motivating and inspiring. 

So... cheers big dog, Jesus, for making such a cool project work wonders... 

Yours, enthusiastically... 

X