Moving house twice and things not working out quite as planned.

In 1970, our neighbours Neville and Wendy moved on to a bigger farm nearby, so we then moved into their house, which had more room. This however turned out to be for a pretty short period, as towards the end of 1971, my father-in-law bought a horse stud, combined with a dairy farm at Marandellas. This decision was made especially with Neil in mind to run it. We therefore left the farm at Raffingora to take up residence in Marandellas, 50 miles (80 km) to the south-east of Salisbury.

All our furniture spread over the garden waiting for loading.

Finally all was loaded on the farm truck.  It just fitted!!  Luckily we had good weather.

As far as I remember, we had a driver for the truck.  Neil drove a van  full of suitcases with his two dogs, and  I drove the car, also full of suitcases and Rocky, my Great Dane.

Our new home at Marandellas. with the guys unloading the truck. Who knew that I would be blogging 45 years later and that diamond format photos are not easy to work with!!

Neil took out his trainer’s license for horse racing soon after arrival in Marandellas, and looked after the Stud and the race horses. Meanwhile, I became the ‘dairy farmer’. When I could, I used to ride work on the horses, but the dairy was time consuming and its hours mostly clashed with the times when the horses were being exercised.

Not long after arriving at Marandellas, I acquired a part-time job as receptionist at the Marandellas abbatoir. The part-time status somehow increased to become full-time , so my days became very full seeing to the dairy in the early mornings and evenings, and then doing the receptionist job all day!

In 1972 my parents left their Borrowdale home where Dad trained his horses. They bought a smallholding of 20 acres with a house and small cottage called Brackenhurst at Ruwa. My father built stables and accommodation for the stable lads, and everyone, plus horses, moved lock stock and barrel. Ruwa was halfway  between Marandellas and Salisbury so it was very convenient for us to pop in and see them. 

Mum and Dad at their new home in Ruwa, Mum with Fredricka the basset and my Dad with a rescue dog, Bernie, that never really did settle into family life!

Opposite Brackenhurst, across the farm road, was another trainer with a sand training track. Dad was offered full use of it for his own horses and that suited him very well. The agreement was that Dad would keep the track in working condition and he would have free use of it. I think that he really enjoyed his trips out on the tractor each day, levelling off the track after use; a very stress free exercise! 

In 1973 Neil and I were finding living together was not easy and in July we sadly got divorced and I moved into the cottage at Brackenhurst. Our lawyer commented that he wished all divorces were as easy as ours; we simply agreed on everything! Unfortunately, although we were good friends and still remain so, marriage together was obviously not for us. Three years that I have no regrets over, but it was time to start life anew.

My Life Before Charente to be continued :-) 

 

The section of my life story during our overland trip is published on Kindle if you should be interested:-

 

See

 http://www.amazon.co.uk/THE-GREAT-1953-TREK-ebook/dp/B008KK0KHU/ref=pd_ys_iyr1

Selling a couple of my horses and Dad takes out his licence as a racehorse trainer.

At the beginning of 1961, the Mozambique Army approached me with an offer to buy Kismet from me; we were not really getting on that well together and the offer was a good one, so I accepted it and thus the stable shrunk to three horses. 

Kismet on his way to a new country.

Only a few weeks later, our  stable number reverted to four horses, when my boss, Bill Wakefield, offered me his stallion National Anthem, who had unfortunately proved to be sterile. 

National Anthem

National Anthem had been imported from the United Kingdom to stand at Borrowdale Stud. He had been second in the Derby Trial Stakes in the UK and had an impressive blood line. With the Derby winner Straight Deal as his sire and his great grand sire being Gainsborough, he would have improved the Rhodesian blood line no end, but sadly this was not to be. He was a very grand looking dappled grey of 16.3 hands high, with an amazing temperament for a stallion. He had not been ridden for some years, so training meant starting again at square one and I spent many hours with him in basic dressage and over small fences. 

National Anthem and myself in mid air over a fence.

Rustler, meanwhile, was proving to be a real handful and although we had a few wins along the way, I was fairly certain that he was never going to become anything other than average, whilst also causing me some dramatic surprises!

We were entered in one cross country event, where having discussed the water jump into a dam with various riders, it was decided that the sensible thing to do was take the first fence very gently, then ride around the shallow edge of the dam to take the second fence, out of the dam on the other side. Rustler, unfortunately, had his own ideas and, with some enthusiastic fly jumping approached the first fence. While I was trying desperately to slow him down, he took off for the jump with a huge leap that carried us right into the middle of the dam at its deepest point!  He was unable to keep his footing with the speed we were travelling and the inevitable happened; we somersaulted in the water. I was unable to hold on to the reins, and when I surfaced, blowing out jets of water, I saw him back on dry land, in a flat gallop, disappearing into the distance!  Fortunately, neither of us suffered any serious damage, but it really was the beginning of the end!  

A few weeks later, we found a buyer who was convinced they could do better with Rustler than I could!  I don’t ever remember seeing Rustler in the show ring again from that day on!

By 1962, Dad’s interest in horse racing had developed to the extent that he was keen to take out a trainer’s licence and start training race horses himself. A property on the Dombashawa Road in Borrowdale (a suburb of Salisbury) was up for rent, and it had a training yard of twelve stables, a tack room and a feed room, plus plenty of accommodation for the stable hands. It also had a small but adequate size training track, so a deal was struck and we rented out our existing house on the Lomagundi Rd and made the move to Borrowdale. It certainly suited me much better, as my drive to work was cut by half the distance!

Hy-Li-Li and myself in a cross country event. This time we stayed together, not as I did with Rustler in my narrative above!

The first two horses to move into our new yard, besides Dusky, National Anthem and Hy-Li-Li were Lady Heath and Jewel’s Reward. Lady Heath was a seasoned hurdler and Jewel’s Reward was a two year old that had been home bred and was still owned by the breeder. 

In May that year, Lady Heath became my Dad’s first winner, when, with me riding, she won an amateur hurdle race at Marandellas, a small town not far away.   Dad then found owners who were prepared to give him a chance with their horses and so he filled the stables up with flat race horses; mainly ones, I might add, that had been rejected by other trainers as being unsuccessful!  Because he trained each horse as an individual and not using bulk training, he had a certain amount of unexpected success with these rejects.  Unexpected it was to other people, but not really to us, as my Dad was very committed to this new activity.  The stable expanded again and another 6 stables were built at the back,  soon to be filled with new prospects!

Myself leading Rear Guard into the winner's enclosure for my Dad (who is holding my handbag for me!).  The owner, Jack Quinton, was absent on that day, so the honour went to me!

My Life Before Charente to be continued :-) 

 

The section of my life story during our overland trip is published on Kindle if you should be interested:-

 

See

 http://www.amazon.co.uk/THE-GREAT-1953-TREK-ebook/dp/B008KK0KHU/ref=pd_ys_iyr1