Equiyoga

01/02/2026

Imbolc is an ancient festival, traditionally marked around 1st–2nd February.
It celebrates the return of the light, the midpoint between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, and the first quiet signs that winter is loosening its grip.

Historically, Imbolc was linked to:
- the beginning of lambing season
- milk returning to the ewes
- fire, warmth, and protection
- hope, renewal, and gentle new beginnings

It was never about spring being here
it was about knowing it was on its way.

And honestly… that energy fits equestrian life perfectly.

The days are still cold.
The fields are still muddy.
The rugs are still on.

But something has shifted.

For us as equestrians, Imbolc looks like:
- noticing the evenings stretching just a little longer
- feeling hope while pulling on muddy boots
- horses moving with a touch more spark
- plans beginning to form without pressure to act yet

Imbolc reminds us that nothing blooms all at once.
Growth happens underground first.

Just like:
- fitness returning gradually
- confidence rebuilding quietly
- partnerships deepening through consistency, not force

This isn’t the season for demanding more -
from ourselves or our horses.
It’s the season for gentle preparation.

Small intentions.
Soft resets.
Listening closely.

Imbolc asks us: What are you tending to now, even if no one else can see it yet?

Because spring doesn’t arrive suddenly.
It arrives because we kept caring through winter 💛

02/01/2025

Before backing your youngster, please read:

🐴 A horse ages about 3 times faster than a human.

So, a 90-year-old human is like a 30-year-old horse. Both are creaky, missing teeth, probably wear glasses, and are living their best retirement life—spending more time at the spa than at work. 🧓✨

A 25-year-old horse is like a 75-year-old human. Still getting things done, but don’t ask them to lift anything heavy.

A 20-year-old horse is like a 60-year-old human. Body’s a little sore, but the brain is still ready to run a marathon… even if the legs aren’t. 🧠🏃‍♂️

A 13-year-old horse is like a 39-year-old human. Peak performance—wise enough to know what’s going on, strong enough to get things done, and probably complaining about back pain by lunchtime. 💪😅

Now, let’s talk about the babies:

A 3-year-old horse is like a 9-year-old kid. Still in “I don’t wanna work” mode. Maybe they’ll help out by drawing you a picture of a unicorn, but that’s about it. 🎨🦄

A 4-year-old horse is like a 12-year-old kid. Doing odd jobs for pocket money—mowing lawns, delivering newspapers. They can start earning their keep, but don’t expect them to finish the job without a snack break. 🍪

A 5-year-old horse is like a 15-year-old teenager. Full of attitude, thinks they know everything, but can barely handle a chore without “accidentally” doing it wrong. Still growing, so don’t ask them to carry a fridge, but they can start building some muscle. 💪😜

A 6-year-old horse is like an 18-year-old human. An adult! Finally ready to do some real work—if you can get them to stop texting for five minutes. THE CORRECT AGE TO START WORKING! 📱💼

Pushing your youngster too hard too soon? Prepare for a future of limping horses and dramatic eye rolls. 🦵🤦‍♂️ Take your time! One more year of chill can add 10 years of useful working life. Be patient with your pride and joy (and maybe bribe them with snacks). 🧁🎉

Our own Farmleigh Storm, no competitions till 6 years old!

07/06/2024

Well it’s been a minute, solo parenting and life took over for a bit but I am back in the game !
Two lovely new clients this week had massages as part of their rehab.
If you think your horse would benefit from a massage as part of their routine or to help with rehab following issue/injury then drop me a message to book.
37 minutes in 37 seconds ….wish I worked that quick in real life 😂

18/03/2023

❤️

Remembering Stroller

This legendary pony won Olympic silver, world gold, the Hickstead and Hamburg Derbies and jumped 6ft 8in in a puissance class. Marion Mould and Stroller’s story is the stuff of fairytales, the teenage girl and her pony taking on the best horses on the planet – and winning.

13/02/2023

❤️

13/01/2023

This!

Don’t over complicate it.

There was a time when you were just happy to ride, happy to be in the company of horses. It didn’t matter if you could execute a perfect shoulder in, or jump double clear round 1.20 tracks. You were just happy to have two feet in the stirrups and ears leading the way.

You didn’t care about having the best tack, or the newest hi-tech breeches. An old jumper, your favourite, well worn jods and colourful half chaps did the job just fine.

You didn’t spend the days between Christmas and New Year planning a heavy schedule of training sessions, clinics and competitions. You threw tinsel round your pony’s neck and went hacking with friends. The new year was just another 365 days to go riding.

Don’t forget that you started this sport because you loved the animal. You loved the rush of galloping across open fields and the serenity of watching a horse quietly graze in the sun. You do this because there is nothing on this earth that makes you feel more alive than being on the back of a horse, so don’t overcomplicate it.

Enjoy the little things, because one day you’ll look back and realise, they weren’t little at all.

10/12/2022

🙌🏼🙌🏼

13/11/2022

❤️

I was pulled from my field, from my work, from my play,
Ne’er again to see England, in lands far away,
Through death and destruction, through blood sweat and tears,
I carried my master, along with my peers,
So I ask you to remember a while,
Along with the soldiers, in smart rank and file,
Remember our beauty, the strength of our kind,
As we galloped through danger, without care to mind,
For we were the horses thrust into war,
And we gave up our lives for your peace evermore.

The War Horse, 1914 – 1918

In memory of all the horses, mules and donkeys who, with the humans who fought alongside them, lost their lives as a result of war 😔

06/11/2022

🫣😩

26/10/2022

❤️

I’m done.

I’m done with the early starts, the 4am alarms waking up feeling queasy, not just from nerves, but from knowing how much money I’ve spent on the day ahead from entry fees, training and the diesel in the tank.

I’m done with the sleepless night before, the replaying of dressage tests and course walks in my head because despite everyone preaching to “be kind” you can never escape the odd comment or two if it doesn’t go to plan.

I’m done with the feeling of total inadequacy as I watch those who have worked half as hard get twice as far in half the time, only to be told “that’s life” and to use it as “motivation to be better”.

I’m done with being told it’s “just a 90” when I’ve spent weeks (if not months) preparing and spent a fortune to get there, only to experience the resentment from some of the “top riders” when us mere amateurs dare to muddy their course.

I’m done with a sport where money is overtaking talent, where horses cost more than cars and lorries cost more than houses. A sport that preaches equality, but promotes elitism.

I’m done with the pressure I put on myself because I spend all day, everyday watching people post their highlight reels across social media, making me think I’m abnormal for having a bad day or wanting a day off.

So, I’m done.

Done pretending that putting on a show jacket and jumping double clear is what really makes me happy.

So pass me a grooming brush and show me the bridleway, because the happiest I’ll ever be is exploring the world behind my favourite set of ears with absolutely no pressure or expectation from myself or anyone else.

📸 Cheape photography

11/10/2022

🙌🏼