“999! Ow! This was very horrible!”

…is how Mark reported on his heart-stopping horseriding experience on Friday. Sara and Mark were having their final “semi-private” riding lesson of the term. They’ve been at it for 10 weeks; Sara’s been riding off and on for four years, and what with one thing and another she hasn’t had much chance to develop any real skill. It’s not entirely her fault. The riding school where she was happiest, and where she’d finally stopped having a leader and was learning to canter and do little jumps, closed down last November when the woman who ran the place was put in jail for “borrowing” a 5-figure sum from her previous employer. We got Sara in at another riding school, but she didn’t like it as much, and after a few weeks had a bad experience with one of the ponies that shattered her confidence. So we just stopped for a few months. When her previous riding school re-opened under new management, we started both kids there again.

They’ve been doing really well, and Sara’s got her confidence back, and is very happy riding one of the same ponies that had been there before. The school is still getting its bearings; it has been HOPELESS about scheduling and a little disorganized with a rotating series of instructors. On Friday the kids had a new instructor, H., under the watch of their usual teacher A., who is going away for a couple of months. The kids both started off (in the riding ring) without leaders, a first for Mark in his 10 weeks of lessons.

He never said anything about not having a leader, and H. the new instructor didn’t know this was his first time, and he was doing really very well; so when she told him to try a trot, away he went. His pony, Buster, tried to cut the corner going around the end of the ring and Mark hauled on the reins to get him going straight. Buster paid no attention and Mark hauled harder, and then it became clear that Mark was a little freaked out, and you could see Buster thinking: WHEEEE! I'm going to have some fun. He set off at a canter around the ring with Mark weeping and yelling: “I DON’T LIKE THIS! THIS IS NOT FUN! I AM NEVER RIDING A HORSE AGAIN!” Meanwhile me and the two instructors were shouting at him, “SIT BACK! DON’T SCREAM! SHORTEN YOUR REINS!” etc. That bloody pony set off down the ring at a gallop and sailed over a two-foot jump. A., their usual instructor, went shooting past me through the fence muttering under her breath, “Wow, he is really sticking it.” When she tried to catch hold of Buster he swerved away from her and that’s when Mark fell off, and his feet were still caught in the stirrups, so for about 20 feet he was dangling upside down from the saddle while Buster continued to canter across the ring (by this time I had also shot through the fence after them). Finally his stupid shoes came off (they’re always coming off) and that’s how he got disentangled.

He was so lucky. I could tell, when he leaped into my arms screaming that he was NEVER GOING TO RIDE A HORSE AGAIN, that he wasn’t hurt; I could tell that he was weeping with outrage and not with pain. When we examined him later he had the imprint of a horseshoe across his back and shoulder, and another across one inner arm, and some scratches on his ribcage, but a day later you could hardly see any of it. For twenty feet he was hanging upside down beneath flying hooves, but they only just barely clipped him, and he didn’t hit his head (his head didn’t touch the ground--he says, “All I could see was wood chips”). We let him cry and cuddled him and then managed to convince him that yes, in fact, he ought to think about riding a horse again, indeed he ought to think about riding this horse, and in fact he might as well ride him right now. So that boy got back up on that pony and (with A. leading him this time!) went trotting around that riding ring for the next half an hour.

I have never, ever, I think, felt such a heartaching swell of love for Mark as I did when he set off around the ring on Buster’s back after that fall: unhurt, thank god, and so, so brave. He is only 7.

Sara deserves a word of praise here, too. You might recall that she had had a severe crisis of confidence in the beginning of the year and was only just recently trotting again. During all this commotion she was in a corner of the ring holding Chunky firmly still, not allowing him to join in Buster’s frolicking. She was very upset and wanted to go over and make sure Mark was okay but she was worried, rightly, that if Chunky got involved with Buster it would just make things worse. So, unsure that she was doing the right thing, she made a decision and stuck with it. I was very proud of her.

There is a dramatic epilogue, too! Afterward, Mark asked me (as he has done every week since their class did a “Diversity Week” theme on China) if we could stop at the Mei-Mei Chinese take-away that we pass on the way home and get some noodles (he says that this week he actually wanted egg-fried rice). Every time he asks this I find some excuse why we can’t stop at the Mei-Mei Chinese take-away. This week it was: “We have to get home because my friend is coming to visit us this evening. Oh, and also I have a really good excuse why we can’t stop at the Chinese take-away. It’s on fire.”

It actually was ON FIRE. As we drove past there were 2 fire-engines parked out in front of it and firemen going in and out and smoke coming out! There was even an article about it in one of the local papers the next day (Sara thought the picture caption was very funny: “Scene of the Drama”). We must have got there within a minute or so of the fire engines, because according to the newspaper the road was then closed for an hour.

So… 999! Ow! indeed. It was all quite enough drama to last me at least the rest of the year.

----------------------------------

School ends on Wednesday and we are off to the US on Thursday to see my wonderful Gramma (who is now 91). We’ll be gone a month. I am going to be at Readercon 6-8 July in Boston, so maybe I’ll see some of you there?