I've been doing a lot of wandering around the internet, and around the inside of my head lately. I've posted some strange things on Facebook and elsewhere.
Today I was thinking about an author a dear friend had mentioned to me the other day. I Googled the author, Gillian Mears, and read the article back there, then I started thinking about my own childhood.
This is what I wrote. You can never convince me that creative writing is not therapeutic! Analyse this, I'd love to hear what you think.
"A Good Trainer Knows
I remember one time, when I was still at school, one of Dad’s horses was lame. She’d had an accident, but Dad felt it had been long enough ago that she should have been over it.
Dad asked me (possibly my brothers too – I can’t remember) to chase her around the yard a bit, gently, to keep her moving. Dad thought that the mare was scared her leg would hurt, so she limped in a way that didn’t impact on the injured leg.
We kept this up for a while, shooing her off, keeping her going, on and off for a few days. And, sure enough, within a week that mare was moving properly again, using the leg she had injured.
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So, do you have your own opinion about that? Your own story? I'd love to hear it - leave a comment!
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