17/08/2026
Mr Fidget at the IPS - Part Two š
Picking up where Part One left offā¦
We had finished our class, collected our fourth place and were walking back towards the car park in search of Nicky and the lorry.
After Mr Fidgetās antics in the ring, I thought the hard part of the day was over.
I was very, very wrong.
Nicky South Downs Horse Transport Ltd was just behind us and dropped the ramp ready for Malbec to load. The plan was the same as always , walk on positively, head home, job done.
Malbec walked to the bottom of the ramp.
And planted.
Okay. No drama. Bucket of feed ready, give him a moment to think and try again.
No.
Absolutely not.
By now the area was getting busy. Mares were around, horses were leaving the arenas and people were walking backwards and forwards. Malbec found himself a new friend to shout to and his little four-year-old brain went into complete overload.
To add to the fun, his beautiful new Spanish show halter had once again managed to come over his ear.
Excellent.
New plan required.
Quickly.
We put his normal halter and pressure halter on, which sounds wonderfully straightforward when written down.
It wasnāt.
There was rope everywhere, Malbec was moving around and eventually I held him while Nicky got everything fastened so at least I had him securely.
Right.
Come on Malbec. Weāre going home.
Plant.
No.
I wasnāt giving in.
Neither was he.
People were beginning to notice.
āDo you need some help?ā
āNo, thank you. Iām okay. This is something I need to win.ā
Little did I know that Malbec had apparently spent the previous evening studying The Art of War: Equine Edition.
My sweet golden pony had disappeared.
In his place stood the demon child.
Yesterday taught me something about stallions that I donāt think you can fully appreciate until youāre standing on the end of the rope of one who has decided to test every answer you have.
They are sensitive. Hot. Clever. Reactive. Powerful.
And incredibly quick thinkers.
Malbec learnt frighteningly quickly.
He learnt he could pull me almost to the floor.
He learnt how to change his position to evade me.
He learnt where my balance was weakest.
And every time I changed something, he was already working out the next move.
At this point Julie came over to help, which I was incredibly grateful for. Eventually we decided to move the lorry into the field where it was quieter and try loading him there.
Surely that would work.
It didnāt.
Malbec still wasnāt listening and then he did something he has never done before.
He kicked out.
And caught my arm.
Owww.
Julie eventually had her own class to get to, but before leaving she gave me some advice ā persevere.
So I did.
I took Malbec right down to the other end of the field and completely away from the lorry. I needed to get him out of the red zone.
We stopped.
He ate some abandoned hay.
He had a huge roll.
He stretched.
He chewed.
His head came down.
And we reset.
By now we were well over an hour and a half into this.
I was hot, tired and thirsty and beginning to feel pretty rough.
Nicky, bless her, went and found me water and a soft drink to get some sugar into me.
Then we started again.
Left.
Right.
Forward.
Back.
Malbec had now decided that avoiding the ramp altogether was an excellent strategy. He wouldnāt even go near the pony nuts scattered across it.
Note to self: pony nuts on a metal ramp become approximately 400 tiny ball bearings when youāre being pulled around by a stallion.
Do not recommend.
And so the battle continued.
I stood my ground.
Malbec stood his.
Stalemate.
Eventually I took up position inside the lorry.
After being pulled several times, I wrapped myself around the metal partition like my life depended on it.
And we waited.
Malbec decided to play with the partition.
I corrected him.
He pulled.
I used every bit of core strength I had to stay exactly where I was.
We waited some more.
Horses passed.
He got excited.
He reared.
He danced around on two legs.
And I held on.
I wasnāt giving up any more ground.
Eventually there was nobody left in that field.
Just me.
Malbec.
And Nicky.
āWhat can I do?ā she asked.
āNothing. Weāre in a battle now. Heās challenged me and he cannot win.ā
And we stayed there.
For hours.
I wonāt pretend I sailed through it because I didnāt.
Somewhere during those hours, I hit my limit.
Iām not someone who cries easily. I tend to keep going, find another solution and deal with whatever is in front of me.
Until I canāt.
And eventually, standing in that field with a disobedient four-year-old stallion on the end of a rope, exhausted, hot, thirsty and feeling as though everyone else had loaded their beautifully behaved horses and gone homeā¦
I broke.
The tears came and once they started, they really came.
Nicky walked over, wrapped her arms around me and gave me a huge hug.
āCome on, girlā¦ā
Malbec, for the record, couldnāt have cared less that his mother was having an emotional breakdown.
But he had started looking at the pony nuts on the ramp.
So we tried again.
One foot.
Then another.
āGood boy, Malbec.ā
And straight back off.
Again.
This time he came forward and actually started eating the pony nuts from the ramp.
Progress.
I moved across the lorry to grab the bucket.
Too much.
His brain went straight back to square one.
By this point we had been trying to load for around four and a half hours.
I had nothing left.
I was exhausted.
Hot.
Emotionally drained.
My arm hurt.
My confidence had taken a battering.
And I had been watched by people loading their sensible, well-behaved horses while mine appeared to have transformed into Satanās golden pony.
I had spent hours thinking that I had to win.
That because Malbec had challenged me, I couldnāt give in.
But eventually I realised something else.
Sometimes horsemanship isnāt about proving you can do it alone. Sometimes the right decision is knowing when you need help.
So I asked for it.
And this is where I want to say the biggest thank you to James and Emma from Esperanza.
They stepped in when I had genuinely reached the end of what I could give.
Malbec was loaded onto their box alongside another horse and they brought my boy safely home.
I cannot properly put into words how grateful I am.
And also to Nicky from Southdowns Transport , who stayed with me through the whole ordeal. Who found me drinks when I was struggling, stood quietly when I needed to work through it, encouraged me when I was falling apart and gave me a hug when I finally cracked.
Yesterday humbled me.
I love this horse to pieces, but he showed me another side of himself.
He reminded me that he is four.
He is a stallion.
He is clever, powerful and incredibly quick to learn, including learning the things Iād rather he didnāt.
And he showed me that we have some homework to do.
A lot of homework. š
But perhaps he also taught me something about myself.
I can be stubborn.
I will keep going long after things become difficult.
And sometimes I become so determined to solve something myself that asking for help feels like admitting defeat.
Yesterday it wasnāt defeat.
It was the right decision for my horse.
So our final show of 2026 ended very differently from how I imagined.
A fourth-place rosette.
One escaped ear.
One happy stick.
Several rears.
A bruised arm.
Approximately 300 rejected pony nuts.
Four and a half hours beside a horsebox.
A lot of tears.
And one enormous lesson.
Not quite the glamorous end to our first showing season Iād pictured.
But probably one of the most important days Malbec and I have had together.
Mr Fidget, you beautiful little diggleberryā¦ we have work to do. š
