A Horse’s Tale – As I grazed solitarily upon my lawn, deep in my usual morning breakfast routine (unraveling those great mysteries of the universe understood only by horse-folk and attempting to simplify their complexities to an extent that even the brain of one of the rider-folk might begin to understand)) I became somewhat distracted. It had been an unusual week already; my inner monologues oft disturbed by the comings and goings of construction men building what I took to be the new west wing of my stable. Though the work had disturbed my penning of the final scene of what I believe to be the greatest one-horse play ever written (working title “Peace-Horse”) I confess it was a welcome and admittedly attractive addition to my estate and I looked forward to sampling the delights of the new catering facilities.
On this occasion, however, it was the sight of my adopted mother entering the paddock uncharacteristically early that disturbed my morning study. It was not so much the break from routine that intrigued me and more her appearance as she strode towards me. Atop her head she wore a crown not dissimilar to those worn by the great queen riders of my ancestors and, despite the more orthodox jeans and jumper ensemble, she also appeared extremely well made-up for a simple breakfast in my stables. However I put this down to the stress of decorating the new extension to my property; a task she had taken upon herself almost single-handedly in both the design and application; the floral decor painstakingly prepared with the loving care and attention that only a leading professional and complete perfectionist can apply.
As we strolled together towards my living quarters several rider-folk started to arrive and entered the tall stable where the two-legged members of the family normally reside. Indeed quite a crowd began to form… could this be the day of the grand west wing opening? Eventually mother returned to her own stables citing a need to finish getting ready. As she did so a mighty horseless carriage pulled into the paddock and, after a time, from deep within its bowels came a smaller, rather elegant carriage and two rather fine looking fellow horse-folk who, it would appear had kindly consented to pull it.
They were rather convivial fellows and as we engaged in psychic conversation (we horses never have understood why you rider-folk choose to make your conversations audible) and they explained that this was in fact what the rider-folk call a “Wedding Day” and that my mother and father were to be “married.” Whilst I normally do not concern myself with the trivialities of the lives of rider-folk this word ‘married’ “rang a bell” as the rider-folk would say.
Some time ago, whilst waiting for mother’s regular morning visit to my stables, father had unexpectedly arrived instead. Seeming somewhat anxious he had asked me to wear a sash (an unusual garment but one I consented to wear due to his clear nervousness). On it were the words “Will you marry daddy?” and after helping me to put it on he hid away, awaiting mummy’s imminent arrival. Unfortunately she was a little late. 45 minutes late to be precise. I think father was about to give up hope! However with her eventual arrival and reading of these words she had seemed happier than I had ever seen her and, from then on, there had been much talk of this “wedding” my new friends spoke of. Apparently the day had arrived.
With my new friends now ready for the offing our conversation was broken by a flurry of horse-folk leaving the stable. As the crowd parted, a visage of pure white befell me: upon the arm of my doting grandfather there was mummy, looking more beautiful than I had ever seen her, her delicate crown and long, flowing veil now accompanied by an exquisite white dress and delicate shoes, all complimented by the beauteous self-made bouquet she carried elegantly before her. The woman I saw typically in wellies and jeans had become, quite simply, a princess, and one worthy of the grand carriage that now whisked her away.
I later learnt that they had travelled to the local church where a very special and sacred ceremony had taken place described by the guests as beautiful, moving and joyous. My fellow horse-folk described the scene as mother and father and all of their guests exited the church, with hugs, laughter and many congratulations being thrust upon this happiest of couples, their smiles never fading, their love clear for all to see.
Upon their return their spirits could not be dampened by the rain now falling swiftly from the skies as they entered the west wing. With delicious smells coming from the catering tent and trays of amazing looking delicacies going back and forth to the dining area I almost felt compelled to abandon my nutritious hay! The drinks were clearly flowing as well; the sound of Champagne corks popping and the clinking of glasses filling the air amidst the evening dew. As the guests moved back and forth their enjoyment couldn’t have been more evident, smiles glued to their faces and the general buzz and laughter electrifying the air. Even Guinness (a most sociable creature but one of questionable manners) seemed to be enjoying this elegant soiree, although he did inform me in rather bitter tones that though “the groom” made a most entertaining speech it did include instruction to the guests not to feed either of us, a subject of some personal disappointment to Guinness.
As the sun broke suddenly through the clouds and sparkling sunlight glistened against the rain drops, Guinness raced to inform the couple and Man and Wife took their chance to stroll outside awhile and enjoy the crisp, golden air. Surrounded by so many loved ones for so much of the day they enjoyed an intimate moment together on their own… well, almost on their own!
As the evening wore on the reception room lit up and was filled with the sound of music as guests clambered onto the dance floor. I myself chose not to join them on this occasion as it takes forever to put my dancing shoes on but nonetheless when the rather excellent singer sang a special song just for the happy couple Guinness and I did enjoy a little “boogie” from the comfort of my stables.
Although I was a little disappointed to learn that the west wing was in fact constructed only temporarily for the purpose of the wedding I had no complaints. It was a truly amazing day and mother and father looked incredibly happy together. It was the wettest of days filled with the brightest of spirits and none could question that this happiest of couples are simply perfect for one another. Though the day had ended it would never be forgotten, and for mother and father, Bride and Groom it was a perfect beginning to a new dawn of married life.
After such a perfect day of happiness and romance it seems the only way for a horse to end this tale is for Bride and Groom to ride together into the sunset. Sadly I have philosophy to study… I wonder if we can find young Guinness a saddle?