Gruntski

Those of you who have checked out my vlogs on Mr Angry’s site will know about Megan’s dog, Willy.

 Here is an update on that situation…

Mr Angry has left the country. That’s right, he’s off visiting our trans-tasman neighbours, inflicting his general angriness on the Kiwis.

And I have attempted to partially fill Mr Angry’s shoes whilst he’s away, by recording several vlogs a few weeks back, the first of which has made an appearance at Mr Angry’s site.

Feel free to have a look, and any comments that you would like to leave can be either left here, or on Mr Angry’s site.

 I’ll update this page when each of the other two vlogs have been posted on Mr Angry’s site.

 Video Blog #1 posted 13/01/07

Video Blog #2 posted 15/01/07

Video Blog #3 posted 18/01/07

Once upon a time, around twenty four years ago, I lived on a farm. We had all the usual farm animals; cows, chooks, dogs and horses. And at the time (I was ten, then, so for those of you who didn’t know, you can figure out how old I am pretty easily, but please remember I have the maturity of a 16 year old…) I was able (if not well) to ride a horse.

 Now the horse we had was around thirty years old, (more of a pony than a horse), and very quiet. Very placid, was Monty the horse.

 I, once again, am living on a farm. With horses (and sheep, and cattle, and dogs and a cat (which you’ve seen)). And I was invited to attend a little shin-dig at the farm managers house for New Years Eve.

 Several beverages were consumed by all that night/morning (we kicked on till around 3am) and I let it be known that I used to ride a horse. The farm manager and his wife have around 20 horses, and are heavily involved in Polocrosse (like Lacrosse, but on horseback) . I was asked (whilst under the affluence of incahol) whether I’d like to start riding again.

“Fuck Yeah!!!” was the response I seem to remember offering at the time.

And so I have spent the last four days (today excluded, the reason will become apparent) riding horses for around an hour and a half every day. And cleaning up their shit. And all the other stuff that goes with looking after horses.

And today, I could hardly walk.

Now; I weigh around 100 kilo’s (220 pounds), and whilst I am not “FAT”, I am on the stocky side, standing 182cm (6′) tall. And yes, I do have a beer belly (suprise suprise).

And to have my legs that far apart, and to have most of that weight resting on my inner thighs, on a moving seat (saddle), has just about split me in half. I got out of bed this morning, and just about fell over, as my legs refused to do my bidding.

 ”Walk forwards, you fuckers!!!” I mentally abused my legs, long enough to get me to the bathroom where I soaked in the bath for half an hour, trying to get the muscles to loosen.

So I had a respite today (with the farm managers wife knocking on my door asking why I wasn’t at the horse yards) as I had dinner with my children, but (and I can honestly say this…) tomorrow, I’m back in the saddle.

I do intend to stick with this, because whilst I am petrified of falling off (100kg x falling 5′ to the ground = broken bone for sure, as I don’t believe I can fall as gracefully as I did when I was ten) I am also keen to be able to teach my kids how to ride, and how to ride properly.  And I am told by the horses owners that I “sit a horse quite well, given the 24 years of not riding” and my confidence is growing every day. Now I just have to develop a whole new set of muscles.