I’ve just been reading a blog entry written by my aunt, and it brought back quite a few memories.
When I was small we used to go and visit my grandparents every week in Brize Norton - a small village nearby. My Aunt - my Dad’s younger sister - still lived at home, and had horses. The picture alongside this post shows the yard and the stables in the background. I have vivid memories of my aunt complaining when we shouted “Aunty Barbara!, Aunty Barbara!” - I guess she was a favourite because she was the closest in age to us, and seemed so grown up. She was probably about 18.
I remember learning lots of new words when she was mucking the horses out. I remember the time “Flicka” bit her on the ass. We didn’t get to see the results (since when did aunts show their ass to their nephews), but I gather the bruise was bright blue and huge…
I remember my brother getting me to climb onto one of my aunt’s ponies, and then setting it off across the yard. I remember seeing the half-open stable door coming, and sliding under it (limbo style) laid across the horses ass…
The summer after that I discovered that I was allergic to horse skin, so that put an end to my internationally successful riding career (well… I could have been famous - I’ll never know)
Anyway… where am I going with this? My aunt wrote a great blog entry today about her horses, so I’m linking to it - go have a read- it’s called “Through a Glass Darkly”