Another one...all potential Grand National Winners, of course.
Join Date: Aug 2001
Location: Angleterre
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When we flicked two fingers, he came back again.
I would put money on not a single high-vis vest* or saddle cover between them and the 'second pass' was probably a turn to look back and ensure nothing further to report after a late spot.
*Despite the RAF donating hundreds of high-vis items free via the Equestrian Society. Hopefully this will concluded appropriately soonest although the feds may as well set up a permanent det at Odiham they are there so often.
I do hate it when laymen comment on manoeuvres or heights being "dangerous." He was "dangerously low," he came "perilously close," a "highly dangerous, irresponsible manoeuvre."
Mrs Duffield, as an equestrian enthusiast myself I feel sorry for you and your distress; but I'm willing to be you've never flown any form of military aircraft, and are therefore poorly placed to comment on whether or not any manoeuvre was "dangerous" or not.
Mrs Duffield, as an equestrian enthusiast myself I feel sorry for you and your distress; but I'm willing to be you've never flown any form of military aircraft, and are therefore poorly placed to comment on whether or not any manoeuvre was "dangerous" or not.
Join Date: Aug 2010
Location: Cloud9
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Horses & women are equally fickle creatures; however, some horsewomen are jolly good fun (HB something of an 'orseman himself).
I am reminded of an Anglo-Irish Ascendancy female, a Lady Molly something, who held court in a slowly-crumbling mansion in the west of Ireland. Riding to hounds was her life (even in her dotage), and she had a penchant for swimming naked in the fountain in front of her humble abode when hosting Hunt Balls there.
One day whilst out hunting, she rode into a local village (Ballygobackwards?); one of the local lads, observing that her horse had clearly galloped over half of Connemara that morning, called to her "Ah sure your horse is terrible lathered up your Ladyship", to which she replied "My dear boy, if you had spent the last 4 hours between my legs, you would be equally lathered up!"
This grand dame has since moved on, to hunt in a Better Place; the world is diminished by the loss of her ilk.
HB
I am reminded of an Anglo-Irish Ascendancy female, a Lady Molly something, who held court in a slowly-crumbling mansion in the west of Ireland. Riding to hounds was her life (even in her dotage), and she had a penchant for swimming naked in the fountain in front of her humble abode when hosting Hunt Balls there.
One day whilst out hunting, she rode into a local village (Ballygobackwards?); one of the local lads, observing that her horse had clearly galloped over half of Connemara that morning, called to her "Ah sure your horse is terrible lathered up your Ladyship", to which she replied "My dear boy, if you had spent the last 4 hours between my legs, you would be equally lathered up!"
This grand dame has since moved on, to hunt in a Better Place; the world is diminished by the loss of her ilk.
HB
