My very earliest memory is of me on horseback.
And I was dead scared of falling off! I was so scared in fact, that I was grabbing hold of a big, red pole, and holding on for dear life. Yes, I was on a merry-go-round, the pole was actually a normal diameter pole, and I was two years old.
I saw a slide of this event years later, and there I am, chubby cheeks, blond hair, and the biggest, bluest, scaredest eyes you have ever seen! I looked at this, and thought, I remember that!!
This fear of falling off a horse never left me. And yet, despite this, my sister and I were both horse-crazy. Every birthday and Christmas, our lists were written in order of preference: Horse, piano, bicycle, and finally those items we would realistically get. We never gave up hope. And we never got a horse.
The closest my parents came to giving us our much longed for dream, was when my dad took two planks, nailed ropes on for reins, made wire stirrups, and placed them on our verandah wall. We added thick cushions as saddles, and painted manes and tails. For hours at a time, Wendy and I would ride the trails, trotting, galloping, giddy-upping and woahing. I was not so scared of falling off these horses as the ground was not far beneath our feet.
When I was about five, I finally had my chance to get on a real, live horse! I went to a birthday party at Colleen Lemon's house. She had a beautiful gray mare, and her parents were giving all the kids rides. I hung back until everyone else had had a turn, and finally when it was my chance - I chickened out!! I was so mad at myself! Finally I had been given the chance to fulfill my dream - and I was too scared! I promised myself then and there that the next time I got the chance, I would get up on the horse.
That day finally arrived. We were in high school when we made the acquaintance of Cherry Bowen-Davies. She lived over the hill from our house, and wonder of wonders, the Bowen-Davies owned not one, but two, horses. A large pinto named ... Pinto, and a smaller brown horse named Fleck. Cherry was kindness itself, and happily invited my sister and I to come and ride whenever we liked. Oh boy! We would have been there every day if our mom had allowed us. But we had to limit our visits out of politeness.
It was always an adventure catching these two horses. They would be out in their field, and the last thing they wanted was to be caught and saddled. So we would go out armed with treats and try and bribe them to come. It would take us ages. Those horses were not stupid.
As soon as I was sat on the back of a real horse, I discovered a disturbing fact: you are way off the ground! Way high!! I was not so sure I liked this. If you fell, it was a long way to fall. And I had no intention of falling! So the fastest I ever dared to go was a trot. One day we were on an out-ride, riding in the streets and fields around the houses. Wendy was on Pinto and Cherry and I were walking behind. We were going through a field and had made a wide circle and were now actually heading in the direction of home. We hadn't realised it - but Pinto had. All of a sudden, he started trotting and then galloping. Cherry and I started running and yelling, and were horrified at the fact that Pinto was heading towards a busy main road. Wendy was not able to stop him, and let out a frightened scream. I screamed back, at the top of my lungs. "Wendy!!!" Helpless to save her, Cherry and I were desperate. Then the unthinkable happened: Wendy started to dismount at full gallop!
She landed safely, without injury, and wonder of wonders, Pinto stopped after a few more paces and started calmly eating grass. Wendy explained that she had read somewhere that if a horse was running away with you, this is what you should do. Needless to say, when our mother heard about this incident, our horse-riding days were over. Neither of us seemed to mind too much, we had pretty much been cured of our obsession with horses. From now on, my birthday wish list would simply begin with a piano.
