caithnessponyclub

Pony Club - Plebish Pastime or Snobby Snooze-fest? (Author would like to remain anonymous!! although is a branch member)

So it’s seven O’clock in the morning, Mum’s roaring at me to get out my kip and it feels like the whole world is still asleep. No, it’s not for school actually it’s a Saturday and another day at the Pony Club. So I drag myself out of bed and pull on a pair of joddies (possibly the most ridiculous looking trousers you will ever come across! Yes, worse than Granddad’s golfing trousers!) and I head out to the stables where my noble steed is waiting, rather impatiently, for some grub! Then comes the gruelling task of mucking out, the horse, of course, has during the night made the equivalent mess of three horses that have been eating nothing but laxative pills. Ahh just what you need to wake you up in the morning tight, uncomfortable trousers and the smell of horse dung in the air!
Now you may be thinking
“I always thought pony club kids were a bunch of snobs.”
Actually, the Caithness branch anyway, is as far away from that traditional image as you could possibly get!
Mums trying to mend their hangovers and laughing about all their drunken escapades, teenagers talking about-well-the same thing, little girls having races with their ponies, little boys having sword fights with whips and the Dads are in-sort-of-charge of the pony.
Whereas the image that comes in to most people’s head is; the Mothers discussing the forthcoming dance and talking about the (only) £10 000 pony that they got as a companion for their proper horse, the teenagers talking about how many first places they got at shows in the summer, little girls brushing every part of their pony at least four times and the fathers talking about how much land they now own.
Anyway, after all the mucking out is done I’ve got to get the horse ready. The Pony Cub Manual (or the holy bible as it is known as when it comes to doing our tests) says we must have roughly twenty odd brushes and sponges and what-not to properly groom our pony. I say one brush and a hoof pick is all you need! Next, getting the horse to the desired destination. This almost impossible task involves a horse lorry or trailer. Even though she’s gone in the box hundreds of times before, the horse still refuses to go in! So after five minutes of pulling and even trying to push we finally give in to her and lead her up with a bucket of feed (cheeky brat does it on purpose!)
When we eventually arrive we’re greeted by a series of smiley faces and cheery hellos. So I quickly throw on my saddle and bridle (woops! maybe I should have given the bridle a wash after I dropped it in the mud last week! Och well no one will notice) as quickly as I can and go over and get the crack with all my mates. It’s only now that I remember we’ve got a tack inspection (supposed to be for safety but if you’re always extra tidy you get a trophy at the end of the year! needless to say I’ve yet to win this) The correct attire for a pony club rally (basically a riding lesson) is riding hat, jodhpurs, (cream preferably) Pony Club sweatshirt shirt, tie, hairnet and absolutely no makeup. The horse must have a clean, correct fitting saddle and bridle and be reasonably clean too. So here I am with black jodhpurs, an old plain jumper, T-shirt, my hair down because I lost my one hundredth hairnet and my bobble broke. My horse’s bridle is covered in mud, the saddle isn’t much better and neither is she. Yay! That’s my highest score to date!
At last, we actually get to go into the lesson. An hour of being told:
“Sit up!”
“Heels down!”
“Legs back!”
“Hands up!”
“Sit forward”
And so on.
So Pony Club? Snobby-snooze-Fest? Not our branch anyway! Plebish pastime? Maybe, but what ever it is it’s blooming good crack!

Piczo