Gorilla Joy
There has been a lot of pictures of the reunion of two gorillas at Longleat after a couple of years apart. Here‘s some on the BBC.
I don’t think it is as remarkable as some are saying. I’ve seen horses return to the stud, I used to own, who’d been born there or had spent a long time there, renew old friendships with other horses, if they’d never been away. I’ve also read of similar behaviour with dairy cows. And after all, we all know how how when we visit a friend with a dog, the dog generally remembers us.
Sark (Population 600) Wins Gold
it’s not only strange to get a gold medal winner from the very small island of Sark, but in team dressage too. Perhaps Carl Hester who was born on the island, hasn’t read the Olympic book of dressage, where of course, the Germans or the Austrians always win. I suspect too, that the two other team members haven’t read that book either!
It certainly was a surprise gold.
The Death Of A Friend
I lost a friend yesterday.
I was once told in all seriousness by an old horse coper, that if you think you’ve got a good horse, could you have charged tanks with him, if the Nazis had invaded.
Vague Shot was such a horse! Although, his most notable success, in the Royal Hunt Cup at Ascot in 1987 under top weight and in heavy going, was before C and I bought him, he brought us a lot of pleasure. He would have been thirty on the first of January next year, but sadly he had to be put down yesterday, because of that killer of many horses; colic.
I think it is true to say, I’ve never seen a racehorse, who was treated with so much affection by those who owned, rode and cared for him. And he always repaid their affection with kindness! I remember once, where the great Steve Cauthen, who’d incidentally ridden him to victory in the Royal Hunt Cup riding for us in the Newbury Spring Cup. Most jockeys have a short chat with the owners and trainers and then they get quickly mounted. But not Steve that day, as he had to have a chat with the horse as well. But then there are jockeys, great jockeys and Steve Cauthen!
I am not the greatest of riders and certainly aren’t now, but one of my strongest memories of riding, was exercising Vague Shot, or Cyril as everyone called him, around the lanes when we lived at Debach. Remember, he was an entire horse, but when I did this, I would have a pony mare called Sally, with an eight-year-old girl aboard, on a lead reign. She would make eyes at him, but he knew his manners and just made sure she was tucked in behind, where she couldn’t taunt him.
In one instance, we met a large grain lorry on a lane with no space to pass. It rather noisily screeched to a halt.
A horse’s standard defence mechanism is to side-step and run away. I just sat tight, making sure the pony was secure, anticipating being dragged sideways through a rather thick hedge.
But Cyril did something, I’ve never seen before or since on a horse. He turned deliberately left towards the hedge, putting himself between the truck and pony. When he was sure that the truck had stopped moving, he deliberately picked his way along the side, leaving just enough space for the pony to his left. He did point his head at the driver as we passed, but I think, he’d already got the message.
I said he was my friend and he was. In times of stress, I would often go out in the dark and find him to tell him my troubles. But I suspect, I wasn’t the only person who did that, as he always listened. This picture was taken a few years ago.
Vague Shot on a Crisp February Day
There are those that criticise thoroughbreds, but there can’t have been many horses, who could be judged on a human scale, as highly as Vague Shot. He will be sadly missed by all of his friends. And especially, by one person, who looked after him for over three-quarters of his life.
What Do You Call a Second Hand Horse?
Riding horses and ponies are probably unique amongst common animals in that they are sold from one owner to another for the same purpose. After all you generally don’t sell your dog or cat to anybody else, unless it’s a puppy or kitten, you’ve bred.
You get some horses and especially ponies, that have passed from family to family upwards of ten or a dozen times.
I was looking for some more information on coloured horses for the previous post using Google and after typing coloured horses, Google gave a few suggestions. One was “coloured horses for sale pre-loved”. I suppose it’s an equivalent to pre-owned for cars.
A Coloured Horse in the Royal Procession
The Royal Procession at Royal Ascot is always accompanied by police outriders. Some might be passing derogatory comments as one of these horses appeared to be coloured and some but only a few these days, look down on a skewbald or a piebald horse. But police forces in the UK, have had the odd coloured horse for some years now.
Will Harvey Smith Salute the Torch into York Racecourse?
It may seem a controversial choice, but Harvey Smith is carrying the torch on the final leg into York racecourse tonight.
So will he give the torch one of his special signature salutes?
Let’s hope he keeps both hands on the reins!
I once saw him give an equestrian demonstration with anecdotes of his life. If ever there was a larger-thsan-life Yorkshireman it’s Harvey.
Danny’s Vision
Danny Boyle‘s idea for the Olympic Games Opening Ceremony will probably work and it’ll certainly be different.
But I have one gripe. The horses doing the ploughing should be Suffolk Horses or Punches. As someone, who has spent probably three-quarters of his life in the county, could I say otherwise. I think though, that the colour of all chestnut might be wrong, although of course they are slightly smaller than Shire horses, but probably with a better temperament for the Olympic stadium. Have a look at this Suffolk Punch parading at Portman Road, before Ipswich against Burnley.
The Last Corinthian
Colin Murray has been visiting all of Great Britain’s Olympic gold medallists and I may have missed it or he could have been referring to a previous program, but he closed by talking about Jim Fox. As he won his gold medal in the modern pentathlon way back in the 1976 Olympics in Montreal, he has probably dropped off the sporting radar a bit. However this article in the Independent from 1998 gives a lot more details about Jim and his various fights, against Russian cheats, bureaucracy and Parkinson’s Disease.
This the first paragraph from the Independent.
One figure stood out among the galaxy of personalities on parade at the 50th anniversary bash of the Sports Writer’s Association last week. Indeed, Jim Fox stood out because he insisted on standing, albeit more stiffly than the rest, declining a proffered seat, his dignified presence a sobering reminder of a gentler, more romantic era before the pursuit of sporting glory became suffused by greed, drugs and duplicity.
Remember Foxy? Once he led the charge down sport’s superhighway, a swashbuckling, Corinthian hero in an age when sportsmen were men, and women seemed happy to be ladies. And Foxy was a ladies’ man, a ruggedly handsome, 6ft 3in dashing white sergeant, single, and single-minded who, on his own admission was a bit of a stud; swordsman supreme, in every sense. Now, at 57, the old soldier who was, arguably, Britain’s outstanding all- round sportsman is a victim of Parkinson’s Disease and fights on two fronts – for his own future and that of the sport with which he became identified.
I met him in the early 1990’s, when he was making a comeback and attempted to get into the British Eventing Team. We just chatted about the horses and he talked about his problems, which he put down to falling off too many horses. I don’t know whether the real diagnosis had been made.
He was an impressive man and that meeting left an indelible mark on my mind.
He must be the Last Corinthian, as sport now is just too well-funded and professional, so another will not come along. Fox was as professional in the five disciplines of modern pentathlon as anybody, but he competed in the true Corinthian spirit in the tradition of those like C. B. Fry.
I am afraid, that we won’t see the mavericks too at the Olympics in the future.
Australia has one of the bravest in Bill Roycroft. All it says in Wikipedia about his winning of the gold medal in eventing is this.
Although seriously injured during the 1960 Olympics in Rome, he left his hospital bed to compete in Show Jumping, which was the final event. He rode a flawless round, and Australia won the Gold Medal.
The truth, is more out of Aussie versions of Greek Heroic Myths.
The deed for which Bill Roycroft will forever be renowned occurred at the Rome Olympics in 1960. On the last day of the three-day equestrian event, Australia faced a grim predicament. Two riders, Laurie Morgan and Neale Lavis, were doing well; Brian Crago’s horse had broken down, and the fourth member of the team, Bill Roycroft, was in hospital – concussed, sedated, with extensive bruising and muscle damage. Doctors refused to sanction his release from hospital. The problem was that, if Australia was to win the team event, it needed three finishers. Roycroft had fallen during the steeplechase phase the previous day after his horse, Our Solo, somersaulted over pipes and landed on him. He had climbed groggily back, finished the course, then been given oxygen (and whisky) and flown by helicopter to a hospital outside Rome.
Next morning, with the final phase, the show-jumping, due to start soon, Roycroft insisted on signing himself out of hospital. The doctors said no, and refused to give him his clothes; he then threatened to leave in his underpants. Finally, he signed a document taking responsibility for his safety, and was allowed to go. He was 45, laced heavily with pain-killers, unable to bend, and his comrades had to dress him for the last ride. He was virtually folded onto Our Solo, and the reins were placed in his hands. Stiffly, flawlessly, he completed the round of 12 jumps, ensuring team gold for Australia. (Morgan also won the individual event). Roycroft, patriarch of a legendary riding family, competed in four more Olympics, winning team bronze in 1968 and 1976. He also carried the flag at the Mexico Opening Ceremony in 1968.
It can’t be a myth as it’s on the Internet. But even the author, left out the bit about jumping the round with his arm in a sling. Roycroft won his bronze medal in 1976 at over sixty.
Mavericks too, must include Dick Fosbury, who developed a new method of high-jumping and then turned up at the US Olympic Trials in 1968, won it and then went on to win the gold medal at the Olympics in Mexico. Without his method, Mary Peters would never have got her gold in Munich.
What Do You Think of it So Far, Ma’am?
Queen Victoria surveys the scene from Derby Square.
What Do You Think of it So Far, Ma’am?
There is also another statue of Queen Victoria, in Liverpool City Centre. It is outside St. George’s Hall and she is portrayed riding side-saddle. How many of our Queens could do that? Queen Elizabeth used to do in public regularly, and Queen Victoria is in the statue, but could she actually do it?
I suspect her Jubilee wasn’t as manic and of course the Olympics were a few years later.
Lessons in Love
Ater The Times, on Saturday answered what to do, when your husband doesn’t like bondage, tonight the Evening Standard has an article about how to write erotic fiction, entitled Lessons in Love.
The odd thing about the article is the picture. In the actual paper, it’s taken from her left with the typewriter to the left, but on the web, it’s the other way round.
It probably doesn’t matter, but it does to me, as I was brought up in a print works.
It’s seriousness pales into comparision to the boob Horse and Hound once made, when they published in reverse a picture of the Queen at Trooping the Colour. It was only obvious, as in those days, she was riding the horse side-saddle.
The Anonymous Widower 