Over the stable door: Not such an easy ride for my saddled city friend

Jamie hadn’t visited Yorkshire for years so I took him to Ilkley Moor but he seemed far more excited at my suggestion we visit the local.

Back home, he was keen to meet Johnny the naughty Swaledale having hearing so much about his escapades. The cheeky sheep, outraged at his new guest’s empty-handed arrival, promptly directed a forceful headbutt to my friend’s nether regions. Jamie, caught unaware, needed a moment to catch his breath.

“They’ve only just recovered from my escapade out hunting last week,” he said.

It was my turn to be shocked. I’d known Jamie for 15 years. Here was a man who spent his time in meetings, offices or on planes, never on a horse. “I didn’t know you rode Jamie,” I blurted.

“I don’t,” he said smiling. “Or rather I haven’t for 20 years. The meet was at mum’s so it seemed silly not to dust off Grandpas old breeches and hunting boots.”

“Did they fit?” I chuckled.

“Yes thank you,” he replied defensively. A friend had offered him a horse big and fit enough to carry him for the day’s hunting. “They were slightly on the optimistic side. “I hadn’t even had time to try my gear on before the meet, never mind sit on a horse so I was hardly fit,” he smiled.

“Getting grandpa’s 150-year-old boots on was entertaining,” he continued, as we headed towards the house. My friend’s tall svelte grandfather had been a respectable Leicestershire farmer and an immaculately turned out Master. “I had to cut the bottom of his breeches off and pour oil on my socks to get my legs in,” Jamie explained. The old man would be turning in his grave at the thought of his beautiful vintage hunting kit ruined.

“So what happened?” Tris, my boyfriend, asked as we sat down for dinner.

“Well, I did jump a hedge,” he replied excited.

“Wow!” I wondered if it was bravery or stupidity on my friend’s part.

“But landed awkwardly on the saddle and properly squashed my bits. They were literally black and blue the day afterwards.

“Anyway after that I enjoyed it. They’re a friendly lot,” Jamie continued enthusiastically. “When I got knocked out two girls were arguing over who could resuscitate me.”

“Knocked out, resuscitate you!” Tris and I shrieked.

“Ha yeah. I got so tired. It poured down all day. I didn’t have strength to pull the horse up so I aimed for this tree hoping to stop. I ended up getting knocked out by a big branch. Next thing I remember two pretty girls were fighting over me.”

“Sounds like the only thing to end the day in one piece was your gramp’s boots,” I said.

“Not quite,” he said, looking sheepish. “I tried for an hour to pull them off. I even stood in a boiling hot bath to stretch them but no luck. I had to cut them off with a pair of kitchen scissors in the end.”

Tris and I looked at each other in disbelief. “It was okay though, I managed to get a date with the pretty resuscitation girl. I might have to go hunting a bit more often.”