The poacher was working on a country estate last week, around the stables, with the completely nuts but highly amusing JC.
As there was an event on at the weekend I got drafted in for publicity purposes. This involved spending Friday driving down country lanes stapling posters to trees. After some time I realised that the posters I had already put up were already gone ...I waited in a thicket until low and behold, a small rotund gentleman of advanced years drove up and removed a poster I had just attached to an estate sign. When challenged he muttered something about horses and drove off, chucking the crumpled poster out of his van window. Thus I spent most of the day in a bizarre game of cat and mouse with a man who also worked for the estate ! ....creeping back and putting up posters on the same tree 3 or 4 times until one or both of us gave up. Bizarre!
The other element of my job, involved taking photos of the event (see unofficial ones in media) Unfortunately by 9.00 a.m on Saturday morning, gale force winds were lashing the yard with sheets of arctic rain, from then on I had to wipe the lens every three seconds...
It took the Poacher and three other assorted miscreants in high viz vests , several hours clinging desperately onto the guy ropes, to stop the hastily erected marquee from being whisked across the fell.....
Meanwhile the horse boxes and trailers arrived and diminutive riders in pink jodhpurs attempted to drag reluctant ponies into the storm....
The insane couple who run the gaff, strode about ordering jumps to be built which would collapse within seconds..bits of broken fencing to be cleared away or lanes to be blocked so no one could sneak in without paying.....JC's solutionto the utter chaos was to commandeer a tractor and to drive up and down the lane with a bottle of strongbow in his lap attempting to look busy.....whilst the rest of us had futile orders barked at us above the roaring of the winds...
The only refuge was JC's caravan....unfortunately it afforded no hiding place.
The Poacher and the other casual labour would sneak back to the caravan as often as possible for a pipe, fag or cider depending on their individual stress relief. Shortly after there would be a pounding on the door, the wind would slam it open and more pointless tasks would be given out by one of the several persons who all believed they were in charge.....and who all gave conflicting instructions....
Throughout all this joyful activity ...until 5.00pm Sunday, large women in horsey sweatshirts would encourage small girls to kick and cajole their large, pissed off ponies around the increasingly Somme like course....These women would stalk us all with tins of rock buns demanding we buy raffle tickets, in order to win some tatty old bridles or a Pony Club key fob. They were also in charge of the catering, and as far as food hygiene went, I was glad I'd brought a packed lunch.... they all had Labradors or flatulent Jack Russells, who thoroughly sniffed and licked all the burgers before they were served from underneath the gazebo, which ended the day upside down in a horse shit filled paddock...Obviously, as it had rained for two days solid, all the trailers and horse boxes were stuck, so two hours of wheel spinning, shit spraying, gear crunching, expletive hurling hard labour for a very pissed off group of casual labourers with one winch ensued....... ..INSANE !
I was so relieved to get home, light a fire and take my sodden clothes off.......I love horses...but nothing would persuade me to sit on one in a full on storm for 12 hours a day.......not unless my life depended on it.......Out of 300 sodden photographs only 50 were usable......but hey...they want me to make a training DVD next............
I also discovered on my saturated door mat, a letter from Lancaster University....I'm on the MA course after all...Hoorayyy!!!
