To the horsey mums

...and the not so horsey mums.

Horse-riders of Instagram, was your Mum a rider back in the day? Does she have photos of herself flying around a huge cross country course on a horse she bought for a few hundred quid, after spotting his advert in the back of Horse & Hound? Or was your Mum Queen of the local Pony Club? Are there photos adorning her house of her leading you around various Lead Rein showing classes? Or pulling a slightly reluctant looking Welsh pony over a teeny-tiny showjump with you clinging on for dear life?

These are the classic examples of the down to Earth, incredibly supportive and encouraging horsey mothers, that all Pony-Club children of the 80's and 90's seemed to grow up with.

But, not me. Sure, my mother is down to Earth, incredibly supportive and encouraging. However, she is not a horsey mum. Ask my mum if she likes horses and her immediate answer would be something along the lines of:

"God no, I hate them! Can't stand them in fact."

Now, she is going to hate me for outing her here but the truth is, when she says she hates horses...she's lying.

This woman, over the years, has observed everything I do with my horses. Because of this, she can rug them up, turn them out, bring them in, take their rugs off, tack them up and groom them without any help from me. She can even pick out their hooves, which I think is pretty good coming from someone who claims to hate any type of horse!

This woman is also the woman who rang me up one day whilst I was at work, in tears, and told me that my beloved first horse had passed away in her sleep.

This woman is the woman who has paid countless vet bills for Bambi's various injuries whilst I was still studying at college.

This woman is the woman who cried and told me I couldn't have Bambi put to sleep and that we'd find a way to fix her enough for her to be a happy field companion, even if it meant paying almost £10,000 for an operation.

This is the woman who first put me on a horse.

This is the woman who gave in to her daughters relentless begging for riding lessons and took her to a local riding school.

This is the woman who watched her daughter set off for a 30 minute hack on a little bay pony and thought to herself "She's going to hate this."

This is the woman who sighed with relief when she saw her daughter come back safely after 30 minutes on a little bay pony.

This is the woman who realised with a slight jolt of panic that her daughter was smiling from ear to ear and was definitely now hooked on one of the most expensive sports in the world.

This is the woman who encouraged every single dream her daughter had; who picked her up every time she fell off; who watched every lesson; who came to every competition; who sent her off to Pony Camps every summer; who helped her look after and care for every single horse and pony she went through over the years.

This is my (not-so-horsey) Mum.