03/16/2025
This was sent in by Rosie. L Dunlop
Why My Mum Paid for Horse Riding
When I was little, I remember sitting quietly while my mum and her friends had a good gossip over tea and biscuits. One of them turned to her and said, “Why on earth do you spend so much money on horse riding?”
My mum just smiled and said, “Oh, I don’t pay for horse riding.”
Cue confused looks and someone nearly choking on a custard cream.
She continued:
I pay for the moments when my child is so shattered they want to quit but can’t, because the horse still needs mucking out and, funnily enough, doesn’t clean up after itself.
I pay for the days they come home from school “too tired” but still drag themselves to the yard, because apparently, horses don’t appreciate being left to their own devices.
I pay for them to learn responsibility,since forgetting your PE kit is one thing, but forgetting to tighten your girth leads to a very public lesson in gravity.
I pay for them to understand that no matter how much you beg, horses do not do homework extensions, and “the pony ate it” is not a valid excuse.
I pay for them to develop patience, because sometimes, your horse just decides that a leaf, a shadow, or absolutely nothing at all is life-threatening, and you have to just sit there and accept it.
I pay for them to learn resilience when they fall off, get covered in mud, and still have to get back on while their so-called friends are laughing instead of helping.
I pay for them to experience character-building situations, like being soaked, freezing, and smelling like a stable, while their non-horsey friends are warm, dry, and wondering why their car stinks after giving them a lift home.
I pay for them to understand that success doesn’t happen overnight but vet bills, saddle fittings, and emergency farrier visits sure do.
I pay for them to have friendships built on shared experiences, like the trauma of a pony refusing to be caught for an hour, only to suddenly trot over the second you give up and put the headcollar away.
I pay for them to learn that a “quick trip to the yard” is never, ever quick, and that one horse hair in your food means there are probably ten more you just haven’t noticed yet.
I pay for them to spend time outdoors, learning life lessons, instead of glued to a screen (unless they’re watching riding videos on YouTube and planning their next unrealistic equestrian purchase).
I pay for the absolute chaos that is Pony Club on a Friday night, where kids fly in all directions, ponies test every boundary, and parents question all their life choices but still show up again next week.
At the end of the day, my mum wasn’t paying for horse riding. She was funding a lifelong obsession, an impressive collection of bruises, and a social life that revolved entirely around the smell of hay and manure. And honestly? It was worth every penny.
