Band of Horses - No One's Gonna Love You
Early in my relationship, my wife arranged for us to go Horse riding with a group of her work colleagues on one
of the most beautiful beaches of West Wales. It was a sunny day, there was not a cloud in the sky and the sea looked a clear, turquoise blue.
I had pictured us galloping up and down the beach like Russell Crowe & Cate Blanchet in Robin Hood.
The only problem was, I'd never ridden before, whereas she is quite an accomplished rider.
We were given a horse that represented our skill levels, and whereas my wife had a stallion, I was given a nag.
After some brief instructions we made
our way through the farm and up the path which led to the beach. The problem was mine kept on stopping to eat any grass or weed
and the more I encouraged it
to move, the more it would stop, then eat.
None of the commands worked and my frustration was starting to show.
 |
| Not quite |
My wife shouted (she was at the front of the group, where I was at the back)
that I should try to show it "who was the boss and to give it a kick". In "horsey' terms, this usually means to gentley tighten your legs
and the pressure encourages the horse to move a little faster.
I on the other hand thought that this meant using the equivalent pressure of a kicking a football like a Stuart Pearce penalty.
The result was instantanious and the horse soon started moving up the group and I started overtaking the others.
This pace soon started to feel uncomfortable as I just couldn't get the rhythmn right.
I tried to pull on the leads but bloody thing wouldn't slow down.
At this time my 'sacks' felt like they were re-enacting Daniel Craig's torture scene in Casino Royale.
By the time I got to the beach I was in agony. With all my bravado I tried to pretend to my wife that it was fine and we tried to gallop
up and down the beach. I soon stopped as I couldn't take the pain anymore and I head back to the farm and let the horse stop to eat
wherever it wanted to.
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