I love horses
As a youngster, I was mad about horses - they were all I could ever think about, talk about, read about etc etc. I grew out of my obsession a little by the time I left school, but was still delighted to find that there was a riding club at uni. So, ignoring the fact that I was a lower middle class poor fat girl and that every other club member was a skinny toff with an eton education and a string of polo ponies in their garden, I joined up - cheap riding lessons, and a couple of hours surrounded by horses every week, excellent!

However, I soon learnt where I fit in in this club. On our first lesson, four of us were instructed to get the train from glasgow to edinburgh, meet someone there, and we'd be driven to the stables. Me, a toff from Rugby with no chin and his own house in the West End of Glasgow, and 2 chinless vacant psychology student girls who kept on about how 'bleddy marvellous' the stables were going to be, don't you know. All fine, we got there, had an uneventful lesson, I only fell off once, I was easily the lowest class of person they'd ever seen, but never mind. It was the journey back that was interesting.

As we were in hurry to catch our train, we didn't change after the lesson, so got on the absolutely packed 5.30pm commuter train from edinburgh to glasgow in full riding gear - jodhpurs, boots, body protector in the case of the other three, chaps, etc. We stank of horse. so we decided to take turns to change in the toilets on the train. The other 3 went off, got changed, came back to the seats. Then it was my turn. Off I go, find the toilets, go in, and close the door. I'd got my chaps and boots off, was halfway through removing my jodhpurs, and the train wobbled over a point. This caused me to fall over, and catch the 'disabled person has had an accident' button on the wall. And the 'unlock and open the door' button next to it.

The train (still packed) screeched to a halt, the door swung open, showing my flabby arse off to the carriage, and an announcement came over the speakers
'There has been an accident in the disabled toilets, so we have stopped until this can be sorted out, please bear with us'.

My cheeks burned (both sets of them), i have NEVER pulled trousers on (or off) that quickly, I got friction burns on my knees doing so, and i apologetically barged through the crowd back to our seats. The toffs stopped yah-ing at each other, saw the colour of my face, and promptly fell about laughing, shouting about me being a spakker and so on and so forth - when the conductor came through to find out what had happened, he saw us, quickly worked it out, i apologised profusely, and he said it was ok, could happen to anyone, so the train started up, and we got on our way.

But for the rest of my time in the club I was the token retard, was described as special at all times, and eventually put off horse-riders in such a big way i've never been back to a stables.

Good times.
( ascorbate, Fri 30 May 2008, 16:20, 2 replies)

That song is now playing in my head.
It is playing in yours, too.
(Sundayturkey has the biggest mug of tea, Fri 30 May 2008, 22:01, closed)

Yup...
for some reason, while horses are fab, the people who work with or ride them are for the most part real cnuts. Someone should do a study on it. Have a click.
(resurrection_mary cannibal_ferox, Fri 30 May 2008, 23:32, closed)