mirror image Jun 11, 2008 15:35:43 GMT -5
Post by Mrs. Nellie Lovett on Jun 11, 2008 15:35:43 GMT -5
reserved for: Q!
comments: it's got a bit of an awkward ending... XD
She wrinkled her nose in agitation, glaring down at the ground. She needed some form of stress relief, and perhaps the only way to do that was to go out to the barn and ride. Of course, it didn't seem logical at all that a baker would know how to ride a horse, especially when she walked everywhere she needed to go in London - and if she needed to go any where, it was never far; thus being the reason why she always traveled by foot.
But as a child, always taking a trip to Aunt Nettie's every month or so, she'd learned to ride there. Nettie was sophisticated and wealthy and, though they lived by the sea, Nettie had always made a point to have at least two or three horses because she, of course, traveled by carriage everywhere she went. The horses weren't only broken to drive, but also to ride and Nellie had been anxious to go riding as soon as she saw them on her first visit. Often when Nettie was off doing something, Nellie would sneak off and stand by the fence and feed the horses apple slices or something of the sort. Once Nettie agreed to let her learn to ride, she began her 'lessons' right away.
Her Aunt knew quite a bit, much to her surprise, and taught her enough that she knew the basic fundamentals of riding a horse. Then everytime when she found herself in the midst of a problem, she went out to the horses to relieve stress.
Lovett had sorted through the closet in the sewing room (truthfully 'dug through the closet and flung clothes in every direction until finding what she wanted' was more appropriate) and discovered a pair of jodhpurs and a riding shirt. She checked the closets and found a good pair of boots - and from that moment she decided she'd finally make her first trip to the stable. Her hair was placed in a bun at the nape of her neck. Stepping into the stable, she began passing each stall, looking into them until stopping at a particular one. The lead rope was soon in her hand and as soon as the door opened, clipped onto the halter of the blood bay gelding that resided within the stall. After leading him down the aisle, she placed him at the cross-ties and stepped toward the tack room, pulling out brushes and the such whilst humming quietly to herself.
A hoof pick was gripped firmly in her hand, and casually Lovett strode towards the animal and ran her hand down his front left leg, resting it on her knee after he lifted it, beginning to pick at the filth packed into the animal's hoof.