It's always great to come into the house for the final time at the end of the day, but it's particularly good to do so at the end of a cold day, as today has been. (That latter part, of course, is said on the assumption that it is warmer indoors than outdoors, which happily is the case here - although no doubt the arrival in the spring of our next gas bill will wipe the smile off my face sharply enough). And it's currently doubly pleasing to get to the end of the day because the unhelpful weather conditions make the process of getting the horses worked more fraught with the spectre of mishap than usual - particularly as this time of year sees the weather being at its worst coinciding with, generally, the horses being at their freshest - so to have ended the day with nothing having gone wrong is even more of a pleasure and a relief than normal.
Today was indeed a day when the weather didn't give us much help. Underfoot conditions aren't great at all, to the extent that a couple of canters on our side of town have been closed so that horses can use them to walk back down the Heath after doing their work, on the basis that the walking grounds are so icy. Not, of course, that I could see too much wrong with them on my first lot today, because I couldn't see much at all, as the bluish photograph at the start of the chapter, taken from Ex Con's back at around half past seven when I was on my way home, suggests. There's a lot to be said when conditions are bad for getting out nice and early because the ice won't alarm you so much if you can't really see it - assuming, of course, that you are indeed able to negotiate it safely, which happily was the case!
Today, though, visibility didn't actually improve that much through the morning because, as it got lighter, it got greyer: in the second photograph, taken from Kadoucski's back in the same spot around two hours later, it's not really any easier to see back to the town than it was at the start of the day. There still weren't many horses in view because only a minority of strings ventured onto the Heath today - but for those which didn't it was their loss as the canters were all perfectly usable and the walking grounds no more treacherous than they have been throughout the frozen period. One person undeterred, though, was (as shown in the third photograph of the chapter) one of the most distinguished sportsmen to frequent the Heath, as well as one of the friendliest: the former Essex and England cricketer Keith Fletcher,
who is probably just about as fit now as he was when he was playing for his country, judging by the amount of miles he walks. As the day went on, the outlook didn't get any less bleak, as this photograph - of, left to right, Silken Thoughts,Ben Bhraggie and First Pressing - taken from Jenny Dawson's back on the Severals trotting rings shows: you almost feel cold just looking at it! But at least all the horses are behaving which, when conditions aren't great underfoot, is the most important aspect. The strange/fortunate thing, though, is that I have to say that I haven't really felt cold at any stage of the current freeze-up; so, even though it appears to be set to last for quite a bit longer yet, all in all I can't say it's too much of an inconvenience, and we're obviously very lucky to be able to say that when so many people around the country really are having a very tough time. Touch wood that things remain straightforward!
It's always great to come into the house for the final time at the end of the day, but it's particularly good to do so at the end of a cold day, as today has been. (That latter part, of course, is said on the assumption that it is warmer indoors than outdoors, which happily is the case here - although no doubt the arrival in the spring of our next gas bill will wipe the smile off my face sharply enough). And it's currently doubly pleasing to get to the end of the day because the unhelpful weather conditions make the process of getting the horses worked more fraught with the spectre of mishap than usual - particularly as this time of year sees the weather being at its worst coinciding with, generally, the horses being at their freshest - so to have ended the day with nothing having gone wrong is even more of a pleasure and a relief than normal. 
Today was indeed a day when the weather didn't give us much help. Underfoot conditions aren't great at all, to the extent that a couple of canters on our side of town have been closed so that horses can use them to walk back down the Heath after doing their work, on the basis that the walking grounds are so icy. Not, of course, that I could see too much wrong with them on my first lot today, because I couldn't see much at all, as the bluish photograph at the start of the chapter, taken from Ex Con's back at around half past seven when I was on my way home, suggests. There's a lot to be said when conditions are bad for getting out nice and early because the ice won't alarm you so much if you can't really see it - assuming, of course, that you are indeed able to negotiate it safely, which happily was the case!
Today, though, visibility didn't actually improve that much through the morning because, as it got lighter, it got greyer: in the second photograph, taken from Kadoucski's back in the same spot around two hours later, it's not really any easier to see back to the town than it was at the start of the day. There still weren't many horses in view because only a minority of strings ventured onto the Heath today - but for those which didn't it was their loss as the canters were all perfectly usable and the walking grounds no more treacherous than they have been throughout the frozen period. One person undeterred, though, was (as shown in the third photograph of the chapter) one of the most distinguished sportsmen to frequent the Heath, as well as one of the friendliest: the former Essex and England cricketer Keith Fletcher, 
who is probably just about as fit now as he was when he was playing for his country, judging by the amount of miles he walks. As the day went on, the outlook didn't get any less bleak, as this photograph - of, left to right, Silken Thoughts,Ben Bhraggie and First Pressing - taken from Jenny Dawson's back on the Severals trotting rings shows: you almost feel cold just looking at it! But at least all the horses are behaving which, when conditions aren't great underfoot, is the most important aspect. The strange/fortunate thing, though, is that I have to say that I haven't really felt cold at any stage of the current freeze-up; so, even though it appears to be set to last for quite a bit longer yet, all in all I can't say it's too much of an inconvenience, and we're obviously very lucky to be able to say that when so many people around the country really are having a very tough time. Touch wood that things remain straightforward!
2 comments:
Particularly liked the Five live drive programme this morning with listeners sending in appropriate song titles for the "major snow event" as these days are now entitled by the media. My favourite was "Gritting on the dock of the bay by Snow-tis - spredding."
The Heath looks wonderfully bleak in your photos.
Very good one. I hope that you have suffered no major problems from the bad weather since your 'burst pipe event', Problemwalrus.
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