I was new to the village and expected to be treated like a stranger for a year or two. However, I found that idea was born of an urban myth. I was greeted quite well and in a very friendly fashion. I had move there to write, and liked the quiet pastoral days and the calm moonlit evenings. I began to make acquaintances in the village and to enjoy the company of the eccentrics who made up a majority of the population.
I noticed a big-boned horsey woman, or rather heard her bellowing her greetings through the main street while I was having a quiet pint.
"Who is that?" I asked the publican.
"Oh That!" He explained, that's one of the Tunney sisters. They live just outside the village. They run a riding school.
I didn't take much notice. I don't ride horses, although I have eaten one in France. Quite nice. What I didn't expect is to be forced to make their acquaintance a few days later when my Land Rover made expensive fatal sounding noises outside their cottage, and refused to go further. The big-boned one came out.
"Sounds expensive." She bellowed, and swished her riding crop as if she knew perfectly well how to make it move.
"I'm afraid it does,' I said, "Do you think I could use your telephone to call Cedric at the garage?"
She opened the gate and I followed her into the cottage where we were met by her opposite and sister, a diminutive fluttery woman in rather old-fashioned fussy clothing. She had a rather whispery voice. This pair was so unalike it startled me, to say the least. There were introductions. I used the telephone and Cedric said he couldn't get to it at once. I wasn't worried, I could walk home from here with no trouble at all. The sisters offered tea.
"You're the writer, who moved into the Major's former house this spring?"
"I am."
"Well, that's interesting. I've seen you about. Do you ride?"
"Er... no"
"Well, if you do want to have a go, we teach and breed horses here."
"Really, you breed horses? I didn't know this was such an extensive property."
"Finish your tea and I'll show you the place."
The large one of the pair was already out of the door while the diminutive one cleared the table. It was easy to see their roles in the household. I had to move along smartly to keep up. She strode along in her jodhpurs and boots and gave me a very efficient and thorough tour of the stables and arena that lay almost hidden behind the cottage. I gave the horses a wide berth. They're big, you know, and have enormous teeth and troublesome gastric problems.
We approached another building. Inside there was a large pleasant room with what looked like a set of parallel bars in the middle.
"Parallel bars?"
" No. No," she whooped with laughter, "This is where the mares are serviced."
I looked at the contraption. I knew the term for copulating horses, but I was at a bit of a loss to figure out how the bars worked.
"How..?" I gestured.
"Simple," she said, " The Mare is put between the bars, and the Stallion mounts her from behind, do you see?"