From Over the Tack Room Door
August 28th 2006 13:05
From where do we view life these days… through the rear view mirror on the way to work, or over the top of a broadsheet on a commuter train? From the end of a telephone? What about from the back of a horse or over the top of the tack room door?
The life less ordinary that is horses is all about routine. Each hour of each morning is spent in a similar way to the day that came before it, keeping a big horse fed and groomed and expended, listening to the energy of my own footsteps up and down the stable aisle in the cause of my animal’s welfare. And my own? I used to have amazing nails! I have even grown used to the twist in my wrist from heaving that heavy water bucket, while the back pain from the fall last week has yet to become comfortable!
Every day we are told that life is becoming unaffordable. If the cost of bananas, riding on the heels of petrol, can alter interest rates, and the reminders of how home ownership is that little bit more unreachable than yesterday, shouldn’t I feel bad about channelling money into a horse? Because the channel is long and it is wide!
But each morning as the routine begins and the sun soaks through the tack room door as I battle with a lunge line tangled with a spare pair of reins, I am far removed from the rear view tantrums and the commuter trains. And the good life often looks very good from here.
The life less ordinary that is horses is all about routine. Each hour of each morning is spent in a similar way to the day that came before it, keeping a big horse fed and groomed and expended, listening to the energy of my own footsteps up and down the stable aisle in the cause of my animal’s welfare. And my own? I used to have amazing nails! I have even grown used to the twist in my wrist from heaving that heavy water bucket, while the back pain from the fall last week has yet to become comfortable!
Every day we are told that life is becoming unaffordable. If the cost of bananas, riding on the heels of petrol, can alter interest rates, and the reminders of how home ownership is that little bit more unreachable than yesterday, shouldn’t I feel bad about channelling money into a horse? Because the channel is long and it is wide!
But each morning as the routine begins and the sun soaks through the tack room door as I battle with a lunge line tangled with a spare pair of reins, I am far removed from the rear view tantrums and the commuter trains. And the good life often looks very good from here.
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