Rory Ramble #1

I should probably introduce myself to any of you who don’t already know me. I am Rory, a 22 year old, very handsome Irish Sport Horse (originally named Lucky), found by Gertie and sent over from Ireland to WVS in November 2004.

The Old Bird Susan took to me pretty much straightaway (she’s easy pickings) and has been well trained to ensure she is never without a regular supply of apples and carrots, supplemented as required with polos.

After a year of rather boring lameness in 2006/2007 (never satisfactorily diagnosed by the vets, but costing the insurance company a pretty penny), my routine as a WVS part-timer was established: I spend Monday to Thursday having a lazy old time down at Manor Farm but keeping reasonably fit in the large and hilly fields and am well looked after by my mates Amy and Sandra, and then come up to Wimbledon on Friday morning for three days of pampering, spoiling and an acceptably small amount of ridden work.

The Old Bird always tells me when she’ll next see me before she leaves and I was a bit gobsmacked last Sunday to hear that I was to spend the whole week at WVS for some “logistical reasons”, which was not exactly in my plan. I was sure she was having a laugh – expecting me to do a full week’s work – but I soon discovered it was no joke. To make matters worse, the boys came back from two whole weeks at Manor Farm and kept droning on about what fun they’d had down there all together and rubbing salt into my wound. My mate Onyx, who came back later than the other boys, told me the girls who are now down there are behaving disgracefully, showing no respect to their carers (unlike the boys, obviously – we know which side our bread is buttered on), but what can you expect from a bunch of old mares.

So after one day of rest, I was duly put to work on Tuesday and endured being ridden by She Who (thinks she) Must Be Obeyed (aka THE OWNER of WVS) who was apparently unimpressed by my small antics when cantering behind Scooby – I was only demonstrating that maturity is no obstacle to having fun…. The Old Bird reappeared as she had promised on Thursday (an extra treat for her and more apples and carrots for me), and I was required to be put through my paces for some minutes by Mojca who always demands a little more than I prefer to offer, at least initially – I am not quite sure why she thinks I have to show off how well I can still make those moves, despite my encroaching years. She seems to imagine that just because I can do fancy moves down the high street (purely for my own amusement), I should be able to produce them to order in the ring, but that would be too easy, surely? I like to make the Old Bird work a bit after all – word has it that she doesn’t do any other exercise (plus she may have been drinking more than is generally considered advisable since the appearance of Covid-19) and I wouldn’t want to be carrying any more weight at my age….

And after subjecting me to a full five-day work week, the Old Bird then expected to ride out yesterday, just as the snow started – why would anybody want to do something as daft as that? However, I am something of a pro at handling snowy conditions, so was able to show young novice Indie a thing or two to help him gain confidence on the slippery ground, even if we still spent less time out than normal. I was therefore grumpily prepared to have to wait for lunch but, unusually, it was served pleasingly early, showing some welcome initiative on the part of the WVS carers.

I am hoping to be heading down to Manor Farm today – regardless of the weather – so will be able to spy on the girls and report back accordingly.