Still moving on

​Round about this time I started exercising a big (16.2hh) grey coloured horse. It came about because one of my aunts was friendly with a local farmer’s wife. The farmer did a bit of fox hunting and cross-country, nothing very serious, just for the fun of it really, and he was in with the hunting crowd. He was looking for someone to exercise his horse and get it fit for the forthcoming season, and my aunty mentioned me. The farm was only about a mile from where I lived, so I agreed to do it. Basically, I had to go to the farm every morning and ride the horse for an hour or two. I didn’t get paid, but I was okay with that. I was able to ride all over the farm land and hack out around our village, and as the farm was situated close to the monastery I was allowed to go there also. (Remember, I said our village was quite rural - PAY ATTENTION DEAR READER I AM NOT DOING THIS FOR THE FUN OF IT - I seem to have spent a relatively large amount of time roaming around the countryside, which probably explains why cities freak me out somewhat.) It was a relaxed and enjoyable arrangement. I found the horse a bit hard going though, he was rather lazy and had a hard mouth, so once you eventually got him going he was hard to stop. I personally prefer something a bit friskier; something you have to hold back rather than kick on. But the horse was a safe ride and excellent in traffic. It was here that I got the opportunity to go hunting. The farmer, as a Christmas gift, let me go out with the Boxing Day Meet. I borrowed a black hunting jacket and a stock from his brother’s wife, who was about the same size as me. The hunt met in Loughborough, on Market Street right outside the Town Hall. There was a large turn out and a crowd had gathered to watch. It was quite a spectacle. Someone brought round a hot toddy, which went straight to my head and put an uncontrollable grin on my face. It turned out to be a magical day. This was before people became so anti-fox hunting: it is illegal nowadays, of course. At the time, I had heard of the hunt protestors but I never saw any. I went out ‘cubbing’ a couple of times as well. This happens in the autumn, pre-hunting season, and is a bit slower paced when the horses and hounds aren’t so fit.  I have seen hounds catch onto a foxes scent and chase it, but I can honestly say I never witnessed hounds tearing a fox to bits or even getting hold of one for that matter. But that’s not to say it didn’t happen. I never did it for blood-lust anyway; it was just a great opportunity to have a gallop around the countryside with a few acquaintances, jumping over fences and hedges. The farmer himself was easy going and didn’t put any pressure on me; I suppose he was just grateful for someone to exercise his horse. He had a brilliant Border collie bitch, which was just so obedient and affectionate, and followed him everywhere. She had a litter of pups and the farmer kept one for himself - it was just the cutest little animal. I remember, one morning I went to the barn to get the horse ready, and found the farmer there clutching a small bundle in his hands. He was quite upset, and looked like he he’d been crying. He told me that the pup had been sleeping next to the horse; and the horse had inadvertently squashed it. The pup was dead. Awww - I was quite upset myself.