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Hi,

Right.

Let’s start at the house.

We were meant to leave at 7.

At 7… she was still inside.

At 7:10 she came out.
At 7:12 she went back in.
At 7:18 she came out again… in different clothes.

No explanation.

At 7:22:

“WHERE ARE MY GLOVES?!”

They were in her hand.

At 7:26:

“Right, we’re going.”

We were not going.

At 7:45…

we left.

Eventually.

Next.

We arrive.

The lorry door opens and she jumps out like it’s on fire.

Straight away shouting at Bert — her husband — who, to be fair, seems to be moving completely normally…

which, by her standards, is not allowed.

“MOVE! WE’RE GOING TO MISS IT! WE STILL HAVE HOOVES, COATS, EVERYTHING TO DO AND YOU’RE TOO SLOW!”

She runs off.

Full sprint.

Comes back:

“The queue’s too long.”

So she rings Bert — who is already there — and tells him, in no uncertain terms, to get his backside over and stand in the queue because she is too busy.

He comes rushing over.

She then asks him what kept him.

I don’t understand her.

She’s usually nicer than this.

I try to be forgiving.

She does feed me.

I don’t want to rock the boat.

But then…

I get herded off the trailer like the place is on fire.

Out comes a spray.

I get absolutely drowned in it.

No warning.

No regard for my eyes.

Just sprayed.

Relentlessly.

I try to have a small bite of the grass.

Beautiful grass.

Lush.

Perfect.

“Stand up and behave.”

Sorry???

At the same time she’s standing there eating greasy chips out of a square box from a dingy van…

but I’m the one not being healthy.

Double standards.

Clear.

She gets on.

I think — great, we’ll get this over with.

No.

Straight into digging.

In the hips.

Repeatedly.

So yes.

I raise my head.

As you would.

Her mother — lovely woman, very supportive of me — says:

“Calm down.”

I’m thinking — yes.

You’re absolutely right.

Take it down a level.

But no.

At this point I realise…

she is emotionally unstable.

I didn’t fully understand what that meant before today…

but I do now.

One minute she’s giving off.

The next minute someone walks past:

“Hi! Lovely to see you! Must catch up later!”

Big smile.

Different voice.

Like nothing is wrong.

Sometimes even throws in:

“He’s not playing ball today.”

Excuse me???

I think she’s unhinged.

Anyway.

We get to the practice ring.

I’m thinking — brilliant.

Finally.

Time to move.

So I stretch out.

Pick up a bit of pace.

Bit of energy.

After all, it was a long journey.

Immediately:

“CONTROL HIM!”
“PULL HIM BACK!”
“TAKE CHARGE!”

Honestly.

I’m just trying to have a bit of fun.

Absolute party poopers.

Then Bert comes over.

Starts checking my saddle.

Giving her advice.

Lots of it.

She doesn’t take it well.

Says he’s always finding fault.

I understand completely.

But it gets worse.

Her mother then comes over and announces:

“We’ve another two hours to wait.”

Two hours.

TWO HOURS.

So just to recap.

I have been:

Dragged
Sprayed
Blamed
Dug
Emotionally involved
Publicly criticised

And now…

I stand here.

For two hours.

Waiting.

Possibly for a rosette.

Possibly for nothing.

Hopefully for treats.

At this stage I would just like to say:

I will be cooperating less.

Going forward.

Until standards improve.

Significantly.

See you at the yard,

Charlene
Founder – World Equestria