A DAY FOR RIDING

© 1999 Amanda Gillies

Kids, who’d have 'em? Well me for a start, and all seven of my brood are loved to bits. However, I have to say that from a twiggy 60’s figure, to a rolly polly in ten years is a bit much for me so I decided to diet.

Not that I’m a big eater, but I did cut out anything in between meals and lost a whole five pounds in a month. Not very exciting and I never did figure out if I lost the fiver on the bus or I was shortchanged in the supermarket.

Anyway, whatever, the point is the diet didn’t work. So I decided on the next best thing. Exercise. Just the thought made me cringe. I hate activity which is why I gained the weight in the first place since the last three of my children decided that unless mum kept still for seven months they weren’t going to be born, so bed rest it was.

Back to the point. Exercise, but what type? I would have tried swimming but I could imagine the lifeguards, armed with harpoons shouting, “there she blows!” so I decided against that one. Aerobics? I booked the class then couldn’t find anything to fit. After a few sessions of showing my very ample cleavage, from both ends, I gave that up.

Horse riding was my final choice. I used to ride a lot when I was younger, right up until the last couple of kids. So, I phoned the stables, told them I wanted the biggest horse in the stable and embarked on my keep fit program.

Now, being six feet tall and weighing in at a healthy twenty stone, I knew I’d need a meaty mount. I turned up at the stable, hard hat in hand and was offered a pony. The stable girl took one look at me, laughed and said, “I’m sorry we’ve got nothing that could take you.”

Well, you can imagine, I was a bit upset; being laughed at isn’t my favorite pastime. I phoned around all the local stables and asked what size their biggest horse was. I managed to find one that was 16 hands, but when I turned up, and got into the saddle, the poor thing bowed so alarmingly in the middle I dismounted, gave him a sugar lump, and got back into my car.

My husband by this time was becoming angry. He knew how badly I wanted to lose weight and though it had never bothered him in the slightest, it bothered me. The following weekend he was home, which is unusual because he works away a lot. After taking four of the children to my mothers, and three to his, we got back in the car.

He didn’t tell me where we were going and I gave up asking. You guessed it; we went to a stable. This time, way out of town, in fact it turned out to be a two hundred mile round trip. When we got there, the stable hands didn’t laugh, they just looked at me, assessed what mount I needed and paraded a long line of handsome, very big, horses around the yard.

I tried four and chose a dappled grey mare that looked and felt wonderful. Out came the wallet and to my astonishment Christopher (that’s my husband) bought the animal.

“Have her delivered to Kinnet Stable, here’s the address.”

“The breeding rights go with her sir?” asked the very nice young lady who ran the stable.

“Yes," he said, as I stroked the grey and said a fond farewell.

“Why Kinnet Stable?” I asked as we got back into the car and made our way down the country lanes.

“It’s small, they have plenty of room and it’s the closest to home, but I’ll tell you this much. If you lose more than a stone I’ll sell that horse just as fast as I bought it. I love you the way you are, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

He stopped the car in a secluded lay-by. “Fancy a ride?” he asked with leering grin.

“Only if the suspension will take it!” I laughed. All in all, it was a very good day for finding the right mount.

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