Throughout my teaching career I’ve gone on and on and on about the importance of planning in creating a really good piece of writing. Insisted upon it despite the moans and groans of indifferent teenagers who hate planning…. Just want to get on with it…are just going to start writing regardless. Despite all this I’ve stuck pedantically to my guns, indifferent to the pleading and have insisted upon the scared PLAN! So why, when it comes to the most important piece of planning that I’ll probably ever do, can I not practice what I preach?
Knowing that all good books begin with a sound synopsis, where did I begin? With the first few chapters. When Marcus originally asked me if I had a plan I reeled out the well known excuse ...I know what I want to write…it’s all in my head…I don’t need to write it down...
Thus inevitably, as soon as I sent my initial ideas off to a friend in publishing, my poorly laid plans fell apart. I vaguely knew what I wanted to include and had thought that I only needed, or could get away with, a succinct one side synopsis. I was wrong. She advised me that I needed a chapter by chapter break down of the entire book. The sinking sense of disappointment was overwhelming; the kind of childish frustration you may've experienced when you thought that you’d finished a particularly tiresome task, only to realize that it needed to be done all over again because you hadn’t done it properly the first time. Not, I imagine - being very much a novice, unlike completing an intricate piece of knitting, only to see it unravel before your eyes…
Addressing the issue was painful. I struggled to get past the first five chapters and practically had to force myself to sit down and spin out my narrative. Think how Repunzel must have felt when faced with the impossible task of turning straw into gold; I felt something similar. It took me about three hours of nail biting and finger tapping, before with the flourish of a final full stop, I finally completed the task. Or so I thought...
Seeking feedback before I sent it back to the publishing friend, I emailed it to my extremely patient husband….. his response? I don’t think it quite works…what about x, y and z? You haven’t included …..why don’t you try…? My beautifully completed jigsaw puzzle lay in front of me. Blinking away tears, I pulled it apart for the third time. This time the pieces didn’t seem to want to fit back together and I really struggled to solve my plot problem. I found every possible excuse to evade my conundrum…. Housework, exercising the dogs, even outside chores have never been more appealing….Never having believed in writer’s block, there it was; solid, impenetrable and apparently impassable.
So how did I rebuild my shattered sandcastle? With quite a bit of help from Marcus; he’s a fantastic sounding board. If it weren’t for the fact that one of us needs to be earning real money, I’d have him at home 24/7. A large dose of tenacity from me ensured that all the talking actually transferred to the page. If I do return to teaching, I may just show a little more empathy to my reluctant students than I ever did in the past….
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
Sunday, 19 September 2010
Flexibility is the way forward...
So how am I enjoying my more flexible existence? Well although I’m still not quite in the groove, I’ve already done several things that I wouldn’t have been able to do if I were still teaching….
Last Friday I rode at Blenheim with five other members of the long-listed two star team. We performed a training demonstration of the team dressage test in the main arena; a brilliant and enjoyable experience. We had two sets of instructions to follow; Jonathan Chapman directed us as Richard Waygood commentated upon our performance and explained the format of the European Two Star competition. He introduced us and our horses as we demonstrated some of the movements before running through the team test. As part of the demonstration he gave us instruction whilst encouraging the audience to clap at every opportune interval; in this way he generated the kind of electric atmosphere that you usually only experience at a championship and so it became a really good test of the horses’ temperament. Whilst a couple of the more highly strung characters did struggle to contain themselves - we had one dancing around in front of us and another prancing behind - Bow kept his cool and we maintained our all important rhythm.
Performing dressage as a team is much harder than it looks; you have to concentrate fully on where your horse is in relation to the others, whilst also listening for the commands. Movements and transitions have to be executed at exactly the right time, making the preparation of your horse for the movement crucial, ‘ride prepare to half circle left…’ and to be poised for the command ‘NOW’ upon which we all aim to perform the movement in perfect synchronicity. All these factors make it difficult to think about riding your own horse; you have to compromise your individual performance for the overall picture. The judges award a significant proportion of marks for ‘dressing’ – not, as I first thought (being new to this) how well coordinated our outfits are, but rather the harmony of the horses in each movement as well the regularity of the spacing between them – so this is an aspect that we’ve really worked on in training. Although by no means a perfect performance, the practice seemed to pay off as our display at Blenheim was rated as ‘good’ by Richard. Although he also informed the audience that we did have nearly a year to perfect it! Reading between the lines, it’s still early days….
On Wednesday I was able to squeeze in another Two Star training day to our busy schedule. I gained some valuable individual training advice from both Richard and Jonathan; I learnt a lot about doing less on the flat – I need to keep my legs and hands still and let it happen. The jumping exercises were clever and complicated – doing their job of getting us to think more quickly about the next fence. I find watching others to be as valuable as performing myself, although going first, the others had the advantage of learning from my mistakes! Two things I need to remember; shoulders back and soft hands. Not radically new advice, but both make a huge difference to Bow’s jumping.
On Friday we headed to Gatcombe for our first run since Blair. We completed a reasonable test and we show jumped well despite two fences down - I got him too deep to an upright and he was a little careless behind over a parallel. I was riding him in a Waterford for the first time as he decided to run away in his double at Somerford; I felt that I ‘had him’ more securely and was riding more proactively. The training is definitely helping and my nerve is definitely improving so we’re going in the right direction. He was brilliant x-country despite my slightly tentative approach over the first few fences and through the water; unlike me, he had obviously forgotten my unscheduled dip at Blair. I will also put it firmly behind me as we’re now focused upon preparing for our first advanced at Little Downham – two weeks on Monday – thanks again to my new flexible life…
Last Friday I rode at Blenheim with five other members of the long-listed two star team. We performed a training demonstration of the team dressage test in the main arena; a brilliant and enjoyable experience. We had two sets of instructions to follow; Jonathan Chapman directed us as Richard Waygood commentated upon our performance and explained the format of the European Two Star competition. He introduced us and our horses as we demonstrated some of the movements before running through the team test. As part of the demonstration he gave us instruction whilst encouraging the audience to clap at every opportune interval; in this way he generated the kind of electric atmosphere that you usually only experience at a championship and so it became a really good test of the horses’ temperament. Whilst a couple of the more highly strung characters did struggle to contain themselves - we had one dancing around in front of us and another prancing behind - Bow kept his cool and we maintained our all important rhythm.
Performing dressage as a team is much harder than it looks; you have to concentrate fully on where your horse is in relation to the others, whilst also listening for the commands. Movements and transitions have to be executed at exactly the right time, making the preparation of your horse for the movement crucial, ‘ride prepare to half circle left…’ and to be poised for the command ‘NOW’ upon which we all aim to perform the movement in perfect synchronicity. All these factors make it difficult to think about riding your own horse; you have to compromise your individual performance for the overall picture. The judges award a significant proportion of marks for ‘dressing’ – not, as I first thought (being new to this) how well coordinated our outfits are, but rather the harmony of the horses in each movement as well the regularity of the spacing between them – so this is an aspect that we’ve really worked on in training. Although by no means a perfect performance, the practice seemed to pay off as our display at Blenheim was rated as ‘good’ by Richard. Although he also informed the audience that we did have nearly a year to perfect it! Reading between the lines, it’s still early days….
On Wednesday I was able to squeeze in another Two Star training day to our busy schedule. I gained some valuable individual training advice from both Richard and Jonathan; I learnt a lot about doing less on the flat – I need to keep my legs and hands still and let it happen. The jumping exercises were clever and complicated – doing their job of getting us to think more quickly about the next fence. I find watching others to be as valuable as performing myself, although going first, the others had the advantage of learning from my mistakes! Two things I need to remember; shoulders back and soft hands. Not radically new advice, but both make a huge difference to Bow’s jumping.
On Friday we headed to Gatcombe for our first run since Blair. We completed a reasonable test and we show jumped well despite two fences down - I got him too deep to an upright and he was a little careless behind over a parallel. I was riding him in a Waterford for the first time as he decided to run away in his double at Somerford; I felt that I ‘had him’ more securely and was riding more proactively. The training is definitely helping and my nerve is definitely improving so we’re going in the right direction. He was brilliant x-country despite my slightly tentative approach over the first few fences and through the water; unlike me, he had obviously forgotten my unscheduled dip at Blair. I will also put it firmly behind me as we’re now focused upon preparing for our first advanced at Little Downham – two weeks on Monday – thanks again to my new flexible life…
Wednesday, 8 September 2010
Footloose but not quite fancy free....
Last week I couldn’t quite shake off the feeling that I should have been somewhere else…..Schools around here have had a staggered start to the new school year and so I was almost able to pretend that I wasn’t missing anything. Bumping into some of my recent GCSE students at Moreton show last week end reminded me quite gently. They told me how brilliantly well they’d done in their English exams, which as I still haven’t managed to get hold of a copy of their results, was fantastic news. Every student needs their magic grade ‘C’ in English in order to progress to college, sixth form, university and beyond…. One of the best things about teaching is helping students to achieve those results that they need to progress. For me, learning of a less academic student achieving a grade ‘C’ has always given me a greater sense of achievement than the high fliers achieving their ‘A*s’. It’s often been a much harder climb, especially having nagged the less motivated students every step of the way, but when they do reach their goals, it seems somehow all the more amazing. Those moments sharing the students’ successes and seeing them move on to greater things, are aspects of the job that I’m really going to miss.
Although one student told me she was going back to the sixth form, others were moving on which made me feel a little less isolated in my departure. I also bumped into a retired colleague from Prince Henry’s on Saturday night; a vivacious blast from the past she was warm and generous in her greeting and animated proof that ‘life outside’ can bring happiness and fulfillment. She told me a funny story about one of my recent GCSE students; he’d been to see her for help with an audition for college, apparently he wanted to be a stunt man.It just shows that teachers only see one side of their students.I’d always had him down as the shy, retiring, quiet one who was lacking in confidence! She told me that not only did he achieve his magic ‘C’grade in English but he was also accepted onto his drama course; brilliant news. After a week end of such uplifting chance encounters I felt quite buoyant about moving on; positive, upbeat and a little less like Cinderella than I had on September 1st.
That elation soon evaporated when my P45 arrived in the post on Monday morning; weird how a piece of paper could leave me feeling like I’d been slapped in the face. Although I’d sort of adjusted to not going back to school it was still a shock. A rude reminder that I’m footloose but not quite fancy free; although I now have the time to pursue my dreams, I still need to find a way of funding them. I have begun working for my trainer which is great as it was always part of the plan; riding more horses is definitely helping to improve my technique. But the writing hasn’t quite taken off yet. I’ve done some and am waiting for feedback. I can empathize with students waiting for their results; wondering if what I’ve done is good enough to help me onto the next stage of my life…..
Although one student told me she was going back to the sixth form, others were moving on which made me feel a little less isolated in my departure. I also bumped into a retired colleague from Prince Henry’s on Saturday night; a vivacious blast from the past she was warm and generous in her greeting and animated proof that ‘life outside’ can bring happiness and fulfillment. She told me a funny story about one of my recent GCSE students; he’d been to see her for help with an audition for college, apparently he wanted to be a stunt man.It just shows that teachers only see one side of their students.I’d always had him down as the shy, retiring, quiet one who was lacking in confidence! She told me that not only did he achieve his magic ‘C’grade in English but he was also accepted onto his drama course; brilliant news. After a week end of such uplifting chance encounters I felt quite buoyant about moving on; positive, upbeat and a little less like Cinderella than I had on September 1st.
That elation soon evaporated when my P45 arrived in the post on Monday morning; weird how a piece of paper could leave me feeling like I’d been slapped in the face. Although I’d sort of adjusted to not going back to school it was still a shock. A rude reminder that I’m footloose but not quite fancy free; although I now have the time to pursue my dreams, I still need to find a way of funding them. I have begun working for my trainer which is great as it was always part of the plan; riding more horses is definitely helping to improve my technique. But the writing hasn’t quite taken off yet. I’ve done some and am waiting for feedback. I can empathize with students waiting for their results; wondering if what I’ve done is good enough to help me onto the next stage of my life…..
Monday, 30 August 2010
Down to earth with a splash....
Before I set off to Blair my biggest fear was that it would prove to be a quagmire; various people fed this fear - telling me that it was forecast to rain all week, that it had been a mud-bath the previous year and that they were glad not to be going themselves. So it was with this added trepidation about the weather that I set out upon my solitary eight hour journey northwards. Little did I know that the weather would prove to be the least of my worries or just what kind of bath awaited me.
The weather worsened as we got further north, deepening my sense of foreboding; we drove through howling gales and squally showers which lashed against the sides of the lorry and buffeted us around the carriageway. At times Bow must have felt like he was aboard a ship crossing the channel. Pulling into the Castle gates, I was informed that we would have to be towed onto the show ground due to an earlier deluge. ‘Great’ I thought – ‘Day one and it’s already extremely soggy…not the best start.’ Yet despite the wet beginning, the ground dried out remarkably well; the occasional showers throughout the week did make it a bit muddy at times but nothing comparable to the quagmire of my nightmares.
I’d asked for Friday dressage so that I would have my loyal husband to provide back up; Bow seemed quite chilled and produced what I thought was a nice test. The judges however thought differently and awarded us a mark of 58 which placed us about half way after that phase. Although disappointed, having seen the course, I knew that it wasn’t going to be a dressage competition; the course was bold and asked some challenging questions – several big skinnies which would require committed riding from me and focused jumping efforts from Bow – these combined with the undulating terrain created a tough track.
Saturday dawned fairly dry but we had to wait all day as the other three classes were scheduled before the 2*. I managed to control my nerves; I watched some show jumping, did some retail therapy, re-walked my course and even managed a short nap. We warmed up well over the useful skinny fences and set off with purpose and conviction. I’d already heard about several problems on the course which had caused falls and stops but I had my plan and was determined to follow it. We tackled the early questions easily and began our long climb up the hill; we successfully navigated the first water complex – a stiff eyelash into the first crossing followed by a drop in, step up to a skinny – Bow helped me out over the last element, cleverly adding an extra stride. The crowd’s applause urged us on to the next question – two big, island skinny fences, which we also cleared easily. Next it was the step down to the angled skinny hedge – technical and up to height it had caused me the most sleep deprivation – we jumped it well although looking back it may have surprised him a little. Then it was down to the Malcom water complex – a big hedge in, followed by a skinny salmon in the water. Bow jumped in boldly and it I was sure he’d left a leg because we landed with a jolt and I was flicked out of the saddle.
With the loud bang of the air canister echoing in my ears, I found myself sitting in the water immobilized by my air jacket; grateful only that the water wasn’t deep enough to make me float like a beached whale – there has to be a positive somewhere - I swore to myself under my breath as I unclipped its suffocating embrace. To add to the insult Bow was looking bemusedly down at me as if to say ‘what the hell are you doing down there?’ Mercifully I still had the reins, so I led him out, peaty water streaming out of my clothing and boots; this time the applause only amplified my shame faced, soggy disappointment. FEI rules meant elimination; game over.
Watching the replay it was clear that Bow hadn’t actually put a foot wrong, he’d just jumped in too well. So it was my fault for not sitting up quite enough. In a way that makes it better as he is not at fault; in a way it’s worse as I’ve only myself to blame. The eight hour journey home gave me a chance to reflect upon it; Scotland is a very long way to go for a swimming lesson!
The weather worsened as we got further north, deepening my sense of foreboding; we drove through howling gales and squally showers which lashed against the sides of the lorry and buffeted us around the carriageway. At times Bow must have felt like he was aboard a ship crossing the channel. Pulling into the Castle gates, I was informed that we would have to be towed onto the show ground due to an earlier deluge. ‘Great’ I thought – ‘Day one and it’s already extremely soggy…not the best start.’ Yet despite the wet beginning, the ground dried out remarkably well; the occasional showers throughout the week did make it a bit muddy at times but nothing comparable to the quagmire of my nightmares.
I’d asked for Friday dressage so that I would have my loyal husband to provide back up; Bow seemed quite chilled and produced what I thought was a nice test. The judges however thought differently and awarded us a mark of 58 which placed us about half way after that phase. Although disappointed, having seen the course, I knew that it wasn’t going to be a dressage competition; the course was bold and asked some challenging questions – several big skinnies which would require committed riding from me and focused jumping efforts from Bow – these combined with the undulating terrain created a tough track.
Saturday dawned fairly dry but we had to wait all day as the other three classes were scheduled before the 2*. I managed to control my nerves; I watched some show jumping, did some retail therapy, re-walked my course and even managed a short nap. We warmed up well over the useful skinny fences and set off with purpose and conviction. I’d already heard about several problems on the course which had caused falls and stops but I had my plan and was determined to follow it. We tackled the early questions easily and began our long climb up the hill; we successfully navigated the first water complex – a stiff eyelash into the first crossing followed by a drop in, step up to a skinny – Bow helped me out over the last element, cleverly adding an extra stride. The crowd’s applause urged us on to the next question – two big, island skinny fences, which we also cleared easily. Next it was the step down to the angled skinny hedge – technical and up to height it had caused me the most sleep deprivation – we jumped it well although looking back it may have surprised him a little. Then it was down to the Malcom water complex – a big hedge in, followed by a skinny salmon in the water. Bow jumped in boldly and it I was sure he’d left a leg because we landed with a jolt and I was flicked out of the saddle.
With the loud bang of the air canister echoing in my ears, I found myself sitting in the water immobilized by my air jacket; grateful only that the water wasn’t deep enough to make me float like a beached whale – there has to be a positive somewhere - I swore to myself under my breath as I unclipped its suffocating embrace. To add to the insult Bow was looking bemusedly down at me as if to say ‘what the hell are you doing down there?’ Mercifully I still had the reins, so I led him out, peaty water streaming out of my clothing and boots; this time the applause only amplified my shame faced, soggy disappointment. FEI rules meant elimination; game over.
Watching the replay it was clear that Bow hadn’t actually put a foot wrong, he’d just jumped in too well. So it was my fault for not sitting up quite enough. In a way that makes it better as he is not at fault; in a way it’s worse as I’ve only myself to blame. The eight hour journey home gave me a chance to reflect upon it; Scotland is a very long way to go for a swimming lesson!
Thursday, 19 August 2010
Sharing success and cutting ties...
I went back to school today for A level results; it was probably the last time, at least at Prince Henry's. For me Results Day has always been an important occasion; not just as a celebration of the childrens' achievement but for the proof that I can actually teach. I've always enjoyed being there on the edge of their moments of glory; sharing their successes and commiserating with their disappointments. As always, today saw students ecstatic for exceeding their expectations but also those who were distraught because they hadn't done as well as they'd hoped. Alongside the army of expectant teachers sat the mountain of doughnuts piled high in the hall; providing food for consolation or celebration. This year it sat sadly forlorn, neglected by all. Maybe the added threat of obesity is too much of an additional pressure for today's students to face. After all, if they actually get to university then the media constantly warns them that they face five figure debts. It tells them that they may never be able to pay them off, as when they leave, there probably wont be any jobs anyway. It tells us that the nation's girth is growing. What a bright future they face! No wonder they can't face the food.
This time felt definitely different; I felt strangely disconnected as if I shouldn't actually have been there, as if I no longer belonged. Some members staff were friendly and pleased to talk; some totally ignored me as if I were invisible - already departed from their world. I was grateful that the students treated me normally - confirming that I wasn't a ghost after all. I was able to share in some of their euphoria or console their tears. This year there seemed to be more tears shed than ever before; not all for failure - some through fear. It made me think that there really is far too much pressure on students today, exam results seem to have become disproportionately important in the grand scheme of their lives. For some, the mere anticipation of success or failure caused an emotional meltdown even before they'd opened their terrifying brown envelope. Others managed a more pragmatic approach and dealt with their news with frighteningly worldly maturity. Do they grow up too fast these days? Is it any wonder when they have successfully jumped through so many hoops? When for some that still isn't enough? I certainly wouldn't want to be a teenager again.
I experienced a sense of closure today. As I walked to the car park, I no longer felt the need to turn around, rattle the doors and beg for my job back. Yes I'll miss days like today but I have begun to move on; the transitional period of the summer holidays enabling me to ease myself into my new life. I won't be able to go back for GCSE results as I'm off to Blair with Bow. Whilst I would like to congratulate the children upon their achievements, I am content to do so from a distance. I feel a sense of relief that I've cut the cord; I can survive outside. I no longer feel like I am clinging on to the past; it is time to embrace the future.
Sunday night, Monday morning...
Technically still being on holiday, you might think that I wouldn’t really suffer from Sunday Night Syndrome; sadly I do – by proxy. What is Sunday Night Syndrome? It’s that prevailingly restlessness –caused by the knowledge that you have to get up early on Monday morning - which ruins what might otherwise be a perfectly good night’s sleep.
Last Sunday night several factors elevated the symptoms to a chronic level: my husband had to get up at 4.40am on Monday; somebody’s car alarm went off twice just after midnight – sadly not an irregular occurrence in the locality– am I really the only light sleeper in the village, or can no-one else be bothered to get up and peer out between the curtains to check if it is their car waking the dead? Husband, made chronically sleepless by said factors, got up at 2am to go into the spare room – so that he could put the light on and read; seemingly just as I’d recovered from previous interruptions, husband got up at 4.40am as planned and despite knowing how lightly his wife slumbers, he executed an elaborate tap dance on the laminate flooring, ensuring that by the time he slammed the back door, I was probably more awake than he was. Not really a problem except that he was the one driving to the airport.The house silent once more, I tried desperately to get back to sleep. I probably just about managed to do so about two minutes before my own alarm went off at 6.30am.
How grumpy does lack of sleep make me? Very. Especially when I’ve suffered mostly by proxy – I wasn’t worried about getting up early – 6.30 is a lie on for me! As a result I spent most of Monday suffering hangover like symptoms; I wouldn’t have complained if I’d actually had a drink! Roll on next Sunday…..does anybody know of a cure?
Last Sunday night several factors elevated the symptoms to a chronic level: my husband had to get up at 4.40am on Monday; somebody’s car alarm went off twice just after midnight – sadly not an irregular occurrence in the locality– am I really the only light sleeper in the village, or can no-one else be bothered to get up and peer out between the curtains to check if it is their car waking the dead? Husband, made chronically sleepless by said factors, got up at 2am to go into the spare room – so that he could put the light on and read; seemingly just as I’d recovered from previous interruptions, husband got up at 4.40am as planned and despite knowing how lightly his wife slumbers, he executed an elaborate tap dance on the laminate flooring, ensuring that by the time he slammed the back door, I was probably more awake than he was. Not really a problem except that he was the one driving to the airport.The house silent once more, I tried desperately to get back to sleep. I probably just about managed to do so about two minutes before my own alarm went off at 6.30am.
How grumpy does lack of sleep make me? Very. Especially when I’ve suffered mostly by proxy – I wasn’t worried about getting up early – 6.30 is a lie on for me! As a result I spent most of Monday suffering hangover like symptoms; I wouldn’t have complained if I’d actually had a drink! Roll on next Sunday…..does anybody know of a cure?
Tuesday, 10 August 2010
I am no longer a festival virgin.
So how was our first time at the Festival of British Eventing? It was exciting, nerve racking and quite a big step-up. It could have been better, but it could have been worse. I am both pleased and disappointed with our performance.
We did our test on Saturday morning. Arriving on my own was quite daunting: getting out of the lorry I could hear the commentator announcing competitors and scores – reminding me that it was a championship. It didn’t faze Bow - he doesn’t get easily wound up; he worked in really nicely giving me confidence that he would produce a good test. That was until the heavens opened about twenty minutes before our time– I’d seen the forecast but hadn’t quite anticipated how heavy the showers might be. Within minutes I was soaked through to my underwear, squelching and sliding around the saddle – now I know how it must feel to continue a cross-country round having fallen in the water -not a pleasant experience. Bow was distinctly unimpressed at being asked to work such conditions – he attempted to stay in unprompted travers – putting his bottom into the rain - unhelpful as it wasn’t in the test! By the time we went into the arena he had completely switched off and I struggled to get him going forwards at all. Although the rain had eased, it was hard to tell the difference as there was still a curtain of water running off my top hat. We completed a very average test for him – I struggled to use my legs and seat effectively as I slid around in the saddle; he struggled to go forwards and sideways on the slippery surface. As I completed our final halt, I was relieved but disappointed – at least I had remembered the test and we hadn’t made any mistakes but we could have done so much more. The judges awarded us a mark of 34.9 which placed us 31st out of 90; a fair mark for an average test.
On Saturday afternoon I watched some show jumping and panicked about the crowds, the big screen and the atmosphere. The course caused a lot of problems; many horses were struggling with the atmosphere and the undulating ground and were having several poles down. I felt sick just watching. Bow can be a bit careless if I don’t ride him positively – how would he cope with all these additional issues? What would happen if we had them ALL DOWN? Total meltdown; total humiliation.
At 3.30am Sunday morning I was restless, anxious and struggling to sleep. I was tormented by nerves. I’d walked the x-country course on Saturday afternoon; both a blessing and a curse as it gave me plenty of time to think about it but it also meant that my sleep was disturbed badly that night - my demons and nightmares ran through my mind. It looked big and there were one or two fences which asked deceptive questions; in particular a wall with a low wall in front of it – on the approach it looked like a bounce and I was worried that he might misread it. I knew that it needed positive riding especially as it had an uphill approach. What if he put his front legs into it? I know that negative thoughts can act as a self fulfilling prophecy but I couldn’t help myself. The other fence I was especially worried about was the corner combination under the Landrovers – I was more worried about the people distracting him (or me) as that is where the biggest crowds congregate. The crowds were another concern – how would he react? He’d never seen so many people before. Would it blow his mind?... Thoughts reeled over and over as I tossed and turned before eventually giving up and getting up even earlier than necessary....
I arrived in time to walk the show jumping and x-country (again) which actually helped to dispel the demons. That was until I walked down to the arena on Bow; my heart stopped, a sea of faces surrounded it – at least three rows deep. How did I keep going? I’m not entirely sure. Reaching the warm up arena I walked him down the stringed tunnel to face the crowd; sports psychology has taught me to face my fears so rather than pretend the people weren’t there - as I have done in the past - I looked at them and smiled. Strangely, it worked, I felt less intimidated. We had a good warm up; my long suffering trainer there to provide support and advice – confidence giving and calming, he helped me to enter the zone. Entering the arena was like entering a bullring, the crowd waiting for disaster to strike.... I blocked it all out and kept my head... we cleared the first few fences easily... and then we hit one making me ride negatively ....two more poles fell before I managed to get him back into a positive rhythm the for the final line; 12 faults - disappointingly worse than I’d hoped for but better than my worst nightmare.
Making my way down to the x-country I felt calm; nervous but positive. There wasn’t long to wait before I was being counted down .....5,4,3,2, 1 go – we bounced out of the start box, clearing the first three fences well and scooting down the drop and into the trees....out of the wood and into the crowds...he wasn’t bothered by the people until we reached the seventh fence when I felt him back off ...quick thinking and we re-routed to take the long route safely before kicking on...we cleared fence after fence as he grew in confidence...the Landrover combination felt easy; he didn’t waver from the corner ....we rode up the hill and over the mushroom before approaching the big hedge to go down the other side... but I didn’t quite get my line right and he launched himself over it down the hill more quickly than I intended....me more of a passenger than pilot... before I reacted we arrived at the bottom of the skinny brush in a heap...he couldn’t have jumped it from there so he sensibly opted out..... swearing under my breath – extremely cross with myself for letting it happen....we renegotiated the fence successfully before completing the course a little more conservatively than we’d set out.
Many things to be positive about the entire experience, but I can’t quite shake off the disappointment with myself. I know my horse well enough by now; we are better than that. I should have stepped up to the mark but will endeavour not to beat myself up about it; we live and learn.So how was our first time at the Festival of British Eventing? It was exciting, nerve racking and quite a big step-up. It could have been better, but it could have been worse. I am both pleased and disappointed with our performance.
We did our test on Saturday morning. Arriving on my own was quite daunting: getting out of the lorry I could hear the commentator announcing competitors and scores – reminding me that it was a championship. It didn’t faze Bow - he doesn’t get easily wound up; he worked in really nicely giving me confidence that he would produce a good test. That was until the heavens opened about twenty minutes before our time– I’d seen the forecast but hadn’t quite anticipated how heavy the showers might be. Within minutes I was soaked through to my underwear, squelching and sliding around the saddle – now I know how it must feel to continue a cross-country round having fallen in the water -not a pleasant experience. Bow was distinctly unimpressed at being asked to work such conditions – he attempted to stay in unprompted travers – putting his bottom into the rain - unhelpful as it wasn’t in the test! By the time we went into the arena he had completely switched off and I struggled to get him going forwards at all. Although the rain had eased, it was hard to tell the difference as there was still a curtain of water running off my top hat. We completed a very average test for him – I struggled to use my legs and seat effectively as I slid around in the saddle; he struggled to go forwards and sideways on the slippery surface. As I completed our final halt, I was relieved but disappointed – at least I had remembered the test and we hadn’t made any mistakes but we could have done so much more. The judges awarded us a mark of 34.9 which placed us 31st out of 90; a fair mark for an average test.
On Saturday afternoon I watched some show jumping and panicked about the crowds, the big screen and the atmosphere. The course caused a lot of problems; many horses were struggling with the atmosphere and the undulating ground and were having several poles down. I felt sick just watching. Bow can be a bit careless if I don’t ride him positively – how would he cope with all these additional issues? What would happen if we had them ALL DOWN? Total meltdown; total humiliation.
At 3.30am Sunday morning I was restless, anxious and struggling to sleep. I was tormented by nerves. I’d walked the x-country course on Saturday afternoon; both a blessing and a curse as it gave me plenty of time to think about it but it also meant that my sleep was disturbed badly that night - my demons and nightmares ran through my mind. It looked big and there were one or two fences which asked deceptive questions; in particular a wall with a low wall in front of it – on the approach it looked like a bounce and I was worried that he might misread it. I knew that it needed positive riding especially as it had an uphill approach. What if he put his front legs into it? I know that negative thoughts can act as a self fulfilling prophecy but I couldn’t help myself. The other fence I was especially worried about was the corner combination under the Landrovers – I was more worried about the people distracting him (or me) as that is where the biggest crowds congregate. The crowds were another concern – how would he react? He’d never seen so many people before. Would it blow his mind?... Thoughts reeled over and over as I tossed and turned before eventually giving up and getting up even earlier than necessary....
I arrived in time to walk the show jumping and x-country (again) which actually helped to dispel the demons. That was until I walked down to the arena on Bow; my heart stopped, a sea of faces surrounded it – at least three rows deep. How did I keep going? I’m not entirely sure. Reaching the warm up arena I walked him down the stringed tunnel to face the crowd; sports psychology has taught me to face my fears so rather than pretend the people weren’t there - as I have done in the past - I looked at them and smiled. Strangely, it worked, I felt less intimidated. We had a good warm up; my long suffering trainer there to provide support and advice – confidence giving and calming, he helped me to enter the zone. Entering the arena was like entering a bullring, the crowd waiting for disaster to strike.... I blocked it all out and kept my head... we cleared the first few fences easily... and then we hit one making me ride negatively ....two more poles fell before I managed to get him back into a positive rhythm the for the final line; 12 faults - disappointingly worse than I’d hoped for but better than my worst nightmare.
Making my way down to the x-country I felt calm; nervous but positive. There wasn’t long to wait before I was being counted down .....5,4,3,2, 1 go – we bounced out of the start box, clearing the first three fences well and scooting down the drop and into the trees....out of the wood and into the crowds...he wasn’t bothered by the people until we reached the seventh fence when I felt him back off ...quick thinking and we re-routed to take the long route safely before kicking on...we cleared fence after fence as he grew in confidence...the Landrover combination felt easy; he didn’t waver from the corner ....we rode up the hill and over the mushroom before approaching the big hedge to go down the other side... but I didn’t quite get my line right and he launched himself over it down the hill more quickly than I intended....me more of a passenger than pilot... before I reacted we arrived at the bottom of the skinny brush in a heap...he couldn’t have jumped it from there so he sensibly opted out..... swearing under my breath – extremely cross with myself for letting it happen....we renegotiated the fence successfully before completing the course a little more conservatively than we’d set out.
Many things to be positive about the entire experience, but I can’t quite shake off the disappointment with myself. I know my horse well enough by now; we are better than that. I should have stepped up to the mark but will endeavour not to beat myself up about it; we live and learn.So how was our first time at the Festival of British Eventing? It was exciting, nerve racking and quite a big step-up. It could have been better, but it could have been worse. I am both pleased and disappointed with our performance.
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