Merrick Stud

19/11/2025

THIS!

IRRESPONSIBLE OLD HORSE RIDERS
Two years ago, my other half, Jan, took a tumble off her 17hh grey Irish draught mare, Cara and broke her left wrist, a rib and a bone in her right hand. Britain’s beleaguered National Health System rose to the challenge magnificently and repaired her after numerous scans, x-rays, a bunch of analgesics, bone manipulation and a two-hour long operation to put a titanium rod into her left wrist. Total cost zero. Actually, £10, for the car parking charge at Pembury Hospital in East Sussex, as we were there for about 30 hours in all.
But despite the wonderful care, kindness and skill involved there was a slight under current of unspoken wonder, surprise, and maybe just the slightest unstated criticism that someone over 60 was still riding and getting up to shenanigans like this. There was a sense that Jan was old enough to know better than to be horse riding at her age. The hospital would be better used looking after the truly sick and dying, not a bunch of old fools doing self inflicted wounds to themselves. The staff in A&E and the bone clinic mentioned that in the past 24 hours there had been three other horse-riding accidents they had attended to.
I can understand this feeling all too well. What the hell do we think we are up to? Are we irresponsible, stupid, crazy? I would have to plead guilty to all those things as I am a decade older than Jan and should be even more aware of my ‘irresponsible’ behaviour.
I hate to think what this accident would have cost us without the free healthcare in the UK. Maybe, I thought, sitting by Jan through that long night the time has come to bid farewell to riding?
But once home again, there was no talk of giving up. A smaller horse, yes, perhaps, but that was the sum of our forward planning.
Our grown-up children also think we are pushing our luck and making nuisances of ourselves with the medical fraternity. Our oft stated concern with our son’s motorbike riding elicits a ream of statistics which show conclusively that many more people are crippled or killed in horse riding accidents than in motorcycle crashes. We hang our heads a bit but carry on regardless, like junkies just out of rehab.
Are we mad? Is there something wrong with us? Yes, to both these charges. The problem is we’ve been mainlining this horse drug for six and seven decades respectively and in some ways, it Is one of our main reasons for living, our single greatest pleasure. We’ve fought off cancer and heart disease, so we are not unaware that this time on earth is a fragile thing, and it is drawing to a close. This makes us even more wedded to this so-called irresponsible behaviour called horse riding.
There seems to be an ever-greater unwillingness in the West to live a bit dangerously. But it is this very thing that adds salt and savour to what otherwise would be a very bland life. We are wedded to the adventure that awaits us in the woods, out in the landscape beyond people, even beyond help in some cases. We are not unaware of the risks and carry tracking devices in our phones. But it would be hard to land a paramedic helicopter where we disappear to in the forests.
It would appear that for better or worse we are indeed irresponsible old codgers. And all the better for being just that. The poem says: “When I am old I shall wear purple.” Stuff that, I hate purple. But riding a long striding horse into the sunset or sunrise for that matter, that is my drug of choice and I’m buggered if I’m giving it up to keep the medics happy. See you in A&E.
Captions: Callum and Cara off for an early morning ride;
Credit : Julian Roup

18/11/2025

In 2004 I visited the stud I’d purchased Ruby from, and they showed me a bay Welsh section B 2 year old filly who they were selling, I paid the princely sum of £200 and picked Annabel up the following week (once they’d managed to catch her!)
Basford Annabel was out of Cymbelines Rosamond (a section A) and by a stunning section B, Cadlanvalley Aristocrat.
She was feral! To catch her we had to run her into a barn and corner her, once caught she was timid and flighty, but she was also extremely pretty and moved beautifully, and once I moved her off the busy yard I was on, to a field I managed to rent in the village where I lived, she became a lot quieter and more settled.
In 2005 I decided to breed my first “planned” foal, and registered my stud prefix. I took Annabel down to a section B c**t owned by a friend, and 11 months later she had Merrick Debutante (Faline) watched by the whole family.
It was lucky we were there-Faline was inside the sac struggling to get out so I had to tear it open (I now do this routinely as soon as the nose is born if I’m present for delivery), she was soon on her feet and glugging away at the milk bar.
Whilst in foal I’d taken Annabel to her first show, purely for experience, and had been totally shocked when she won an extremely strong class, expecting to stand bottom of the line!
Annabel and Faline attended a few shows in the Summer of 2006, in both M&M and riding pony classes, qualifying for the Rotherwood Riding Pony broodmare of the year class at Ponies (UK) Championships, as well as the M&M breeding classes.
We spent the week at PUK mainly on the motorway between home and Newark, swapping ponies all week, Ruby for her ridden classes and Annabel with Faline for her in hand ones!
Delighted with Faline, I then had the brainwave of putting Annabel to a section D to breed a C for Emma, who was already looking a little tall on Ruby. Annabel and Faline visited Tymor Pele, who’d competed at HOYS and the resulting offspring was Thumper (Merrick Debonair) who is still owned by us, and is currently on loan.
Annabel had been backed but was incredibly sharp to ride, and Emma moved on to bigger (much bigger!) horses to gain confidence, riding Spice and Magnum, and then moving onto the Welsh cob I owned, so Annabel was covered again in 2008, this time by a section A stallion called Tetcott April 20th, and produced Tinkerbell (see a theme developing?!) (Merrick Ruby Tuesday) in 2009.
Tinks was bright chestnut with huge stockings and a white blaze, and tell-tale white goggles clearly indicating the fact that she would very soon turned roan and then grey, which she did much to my dismay!
By that time, I was already badgering my poor partner to move to Scotland for a fresh start (away from certain individuals who were making life increasingly difficult.)
With Emma enjoying her ride on bigger horses, Annabel, Faline and Tinks were sold to a new home (with the usual, soon to be broken promise that it was a permanent home.)
I lost contact with all 3 for a period, eventually tracing Faline and Annabel through a fb page.
Annabel was already looking for a new home, following a successful career showing under saddle, and was happily relocated just a few miles from us here in Scotland, with the plan that if she ever needed to retire or needed a new home, that she could come here.
I went to visit her and cried….but I’d kept my promise to her that I’d see her again one day, and that I’d make sure she was ok.
She was happy, and so was I.
I certainly wasn’t prepared for the sad message I received just months later, that Annabel had grown her angel wings overnight, following treatment for an infected tooth.
Her owner was sad to lose such a special little pony, I was absolutely distraught, but am eternally grateful that she spent her last years loved and idolised by a succession of children. Faline also went on to a successful competition career, showing and jumping with a succession of children.
Tinkerbell is the missing link, despite searching and contacting her last known owner, I’ve been unable to trace her. I hope she has had as pleasant a life as Annabel did.
Nothing lasts forever, but the memories definitely do!
♥️♥️♥️
Enjoy the photos!

14/11/2025

Every
Word
Is
True…..

THE “EQUINE” TAX: APOCALYPSE EDITION
(A forensic investigation into why your horse eats better, lives better, and bathes with more expensive shampoo than you do.)

Let’s face it: the word EQUINE is not a description — it’s a financial weapon.
It’s marketing plutonium. It turns ordinary objects into instruments of economic despair.

A bucket in B&Q? £3.99.
Same bucket with a galloping silhouette and the word EQUINE? £48.
Now it’s a Hydration Delivery System™.
You will still fill it with the same hose that leaks brown sludge and occasionally waters the dog.

Fly spray.
Human: £4.
Horse: £58 — clinically proven to repel nothing but your savings account.
The label promises “long-lasting protection.”
Reality: lasts three minutes, or until your horse exhales.

Shampoo.
Human: £2.
Equine: £28.
Exact same ingredients, different label font.
You know this. You’ve read the bottle. You’ll still buy it — because “apple scent” smells like devotion and denial.

Hoof balm.
Vaseline: £1.20.
Equine Keratin Horn Nourishment Complex™: £54.
Smells like beeswax and bankruptcy.
Applied reverently with a brush that costs more than your first phone.

Vinegar.
Tesco: 39p.
Equine vinegar: £17.99.
What’s the difference?
The horse version “promotes natural hoof balance.”
The human version promotes pickling. Same thing. Different target species.

Supplements.
You could buy human magnesium, vitamin E and linseed for £12.
Or you could pay £89 for Equine Zen Harmony Pellets™ —
now with “quantum calm technology” and a picture of a horse that looks like it owns a Tesla.

Therapeutic rugs.
For humans: a blanket. £20.
For horses: £249, lined with “ceramic nano-particles that reflect far-infrared dreams.”
You’ve been sleeping under a 2007 duvet,
but your horse is basically in a five-star spa in Dubai.

Feed balancer.
Translation: vitamins in a bucket.
Price: your dignity.
Every ingredient sounds like a Harry Potter spell — ascophyllum nodosum, methionine, unicorn tears —
and it still smells like dead seaweed and guilt.

Boots.
For people: £45.
For horses: £175 each, and sold as Impact Reduction Systems™.
They’re Velcro tubes, not NASA tech.

Even salt isn’t safe.
Human: 99p.
Horse: £29, “harvested by moonlight from an ancient Himalayan cave.”
The horse licks it once, glares at you, and goes back to chewing the fence.

But the final boss?
Equine-specific cleaning products.
Dettol: £2.
Equine Disinfectant Concentrate with Bio-Active Hoof Harmony Technology™: £35.
It’s Dettol. With a horse sticker.

We are not customers. We are believers.
We’ll pay £90 for mud (mineral clay poultice) and call it “therapy.”
We’ll eat toast for dinner while our horses get organic linseed pressed under a waning moon.

We don’t own horses anymore.
They own us — and their marketing teams know it.

(This is satire. But if you just googled “bio-active hoof balm,” it’s also an intervention.)

14/11/2025

A preci of my day
5am: admit defeat and get up for a wee (cursing my bladder!)

Go back to bed, and getting into bed spot the Aurora out of the window.
Forgot I’d plugged the extension reel in to watch TV upstairs last night as OH was allegedly glued to the football downstairs, so I’d watched TV lying in bed, and of course I’d forgotten to move it….walked straight into the bloody thing. Said “oh dear me that was a little bit sore” (well, words to that effect.)

Lie in bed wondering if it’s just a bruise or if if I’m quietly bleeding to death, so get up.

Satisfied that my leg is just a better colour than the Aurora that caused the issue, get organised to put a large round bale out for Maisie, Lowri and the babies before going to work.

Bloody tractor won’t start despite a brand new battery last week, so we push a big round bale down, and roll it into the field, just as it starts to hail and snow. Sideways.

Panic that Maisie won’t allow any other horse than the prodigal daughter Lily to eat the hay.

Decant as much as I can into a separate pile so Lowri and the twins get some, stumbling through mud and sliding around like a skater on crack. More colourful language.

Bloke from the solar panel company turns up to do a video survey prior to installation.

Get to work 2 hours late (luckily it’s flexi time so got away with that one!🤷🏻‍♀️)

Go shopping (food-boring!)

Get home. Smile at seeing the mares and babies happily munching away together. Wince at the fact that half the round bale has already been devoured.

Tell Reuben and Stitch that a large round bale should really last them longer than 5 days, and it’s tough if they’ve run out/slept on/peed on/pooed on the rest, the tractor will be fixed tomorrow or we will use the gator and bale trailer to get one at least through the gateway tomorrow!

Note with relief that Scarlet and Magnum still have hay left.

Cook dinner.

Realise had no lunch.

Devour dinner.

Now sitting with a VERY large glass of red wine.

How the f*ck have I managed to get 7 bruises from walking into an extension reel? It’s a pretty colour though. Almost as colourful as my language when I tripped over the bloody thing.

What time is bed???!

😂😂🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🙄🙄🙄🤬🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

13/11/2025

Strange looking at them last year as we get closer to 2026…..

13/11/2025

Looking back to last year as we edge ever closer to next year. They look small here compared to now, but they were huge compared to their newborn size!

13/11/2025

Why would you ever want to live anywhere else? The main man Hogan ♥️

13/11/2025

Poppy always likes to make her presence felt! Poor Lowri!

13/11/2025

One that some may have missed….Stroppy Poppy and her tormenting games!😂😂😂

13/11/2025

Another first pony-Emma’s first pony this time.
Waterton Ruby was a daughter of dual HOYS and RWAS show winner Winneydene Satellite.
After we lost Sovereign, I needed a companion for another horse I owned at the time, and so Ruby was bought for Emma’s Christmas present in 2000.
I literally led her home from the field I’d had her hidden in, and wrapped her in tinsel, before calling Emma outside to see her main present!
For the first couple of years we just did small local shows using a borrowed trailer, eventually a few judges commented that she should be doing affiliated showing, and so we dipped our toe (rather unsuccessfully to start with!) in the affiliated showing scene. Our Summer “holiday” soon consisted of a week spent first of all in Peterborough, and then Newark at Ponies (UK) Championships show. There we’d pitch a 2 man tent, and live out of a suitcase in the car, while Ruby had the relative luxury of on-site stabling.
As we gained confidence and experience we did a lot better, the ultimate day taking wins in the lead rein and first ridden classes, gaining a reserve champion to boot. She also gained a 5th place in the coveted Lobster Pot M&M lead rein final, as well as qualifying for open M&M ridden championship classes too.
Ruby’s competitive successes aren’t what stood her apart though. Her temperament was the ultimate child’s pony. She would stand with her mouth open, head lowered for Emma to wrestle her bridle on, and would position herself next to the fence for Emma to clamber on board. After her classes had finished at shows Ruby would be tied to the trailer and allowed some grass, Emma would drag the haynet alongside her, climbing onto her ba****ck, before turning around and sliding off over her tail! This would be repeated until we loaded up for home.
To keep her fit in the winter I’d exercise her from my bike, the locals became quite accustomed to me, riding my bike and leading Ruby from the wrong side, smartly trotting around the village we lived in.
She also loved jumping, so I’d loose jump her-the photo of her jumping she’s popping over a 4ft6ins jump-not bad for a pony standing 11hh on her tiptoes.
In 2007, with Emma 11 and out of first ridden classes, and getting too tall for Ruby, we decided to cover her. (There was never an option of selling her!)
She was duly covered, and on Thursday 12th July she was booked in to be scanned. I arrived to find her weak, sick and I telephoned the vet with the most awful sense of dread. Later that day she was transferred to Rainbow Equine Hospital in Malton, and as I kissed her goodbye that evening I honestly knew I’d never see her again. I paused to look back at her when she called to me, and cried all the way home.
I was right-she was put on an IV drip overnight, was scanned the next day and prepared for surgery.
While I was distraught, my ex husband calmly announced we couldn’t afford an operation, phoned the clinic and told them to put her to sleep.
At that precise moment I knew that not only was I again losing a friend, but the final nail in the coffin of my marriage was very firmly nailed shut.
Her ashes are still here 18 years later, in a casket with a horseshoe entwined with flowers painted on the front, and her name in a brass plaque on the top.
She was irreplaceable, so, so special, and I loved her beyond compare.
She was 13 when she grew her wings (far too young), and she died on Friday the 13th. I wasn’t superstitious before we lost her-I am now!
♥️♥️♥️Ruby♥️♥️♥️

13/11/2025

Reaching out to my new followers….please share the page on your fb profile!