A close shave

With my first week drawing to a close I was beginning to relax into my job a little. The hours are fairly long, but with a morning commute of about 100 metres from my boss’ house to the stables I don’t quite have time to feel jaded. The blistering sun had held out for each ride, infusing everyone and everything with that holiday feeling. A feeling only bettered when I’d come back from work to find a fat glass of white wine awaiting me.

The last trek of the day on Friday, a two hour ride which takes in the nearby stretch of beach, was to test this smug feeling though. My boss had decided I might be able to handle ‘doing the line,’ which means riding alongside the line of trekkers, offering advice and keeping order (hello Veronica), whilst attempting to entertain them with jolly small-talk (I believe hairdressers undergo similar training). She planned to sit at the back of the line as backup while a local ‘yoof’ who’d been drafted in to help would ride at the front of the line making sure the pace was kept slow.

Something I think she, the yoof, wasn’t quite aware was her primary prerogative. As we arrived at the vast stretch of beach, the plucky welsh cob she was on began dancing with excitement, the stretch of beach transformed into a racing track in her eyes. With little restraint from the yoof she took off down the beach in full gallop, a long line of 7-9 year old beginners being dragged in her wake as their horses strained to join the race.

Picturing a beach strewn with fallen children I shared an ill-disguised look of panic with my boss who urged me to get out in front of the trekkers and stop the line, the welsh cob now a black blur in the distance. Having managed that and placated the terrorised children somewhat (the knack is to pretend we intended for that to happen) we soothingly plodded towards the end of the beach expecting to find the yoof as shaken as all of us. Instead she joyfully announced that she hadn’t realised that the welsh cob had such a tremendous gallop. Thanks a lot.

It’s fair to say that the thought of my next beach ride leaves me in cold sweats. Think I’ll stick to sweeping next time.