We always had horses when we were young, mainly for the two older boys. As we were sometimes not allowed on the school bus (it was for the State schools) the eldest rode to school. On this particular occasion the five of us ran over to the trough about 100 metres from the house, tethered the horse, while we used the edges of the trough to climb up onto the horse. Strangely the eldest was seated at the front, down to the youngest over the rump. Considering the biggest at the front had a more stable seat it was inevitable that as the horse began to canter across the field, first the smallest, then the next smallest, then the next smallest fell off one after the other. I can remember crying from shock and indignity rather than hurt as our eldest brother reached the house alone on the horse. AND I'm sure the horse was most relieved to get rid of its heavy load!
Marie: And yet another story!
It seems to be a trait of the elderly to tell stories and often repeat the same stories. As our family has a major Reunion in February 2015 I will tell a family story each day and NOT repeat it for 100 days. I will use christian names from our earlier generations as pseudonyms.