Megan Kepferle is Sinead Halpin’s groom and one of the best personalities in all of eventing. If you read Eventing Nation, you have surely seen our many links to Meg’s blog and now we are very pleased to introduce her as an EN guest blogger on her trip with Sinead and Manoir de Carneville to Burghley. Some blog posts just can’t be introduced by mere mortals, so I won’t even begin to try. The caption is all Meg’s. Take it away Meg…
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“Tater standin in peas while we look British”
From Meg:
Day 13: Temperatures are falling, and the broken zipper on my North Face could make for a harsher than normal winter, not sure about survival. The biscuits are running out, and the troops on the yard are fighting over the last scoop of nescafe. Morale is low.
Just kidding. Although, my biscuits are running low – but probably for the better. It gives me a reason to go to Tesco again later….I mean the gym, what?
I wish I could now insert a story about my love affair with Prince Harry, or send some pictures of me personally stopping the riots in London aboard Tate the police horse, but since Hartpury things have been relatively quiet.
Sinead headed back to the States to pay the rest of our ponies and party people some attention. This means I had three days to train Tate to win Burghley, a lot of pressure but I was ready for the challenge. Tater is feeling fit and fresh, and it is funny. He is normally such a quiet, easy horse – but he is spooking at cows, dogs, and funny looking people…. and shire horses as they gallop majestically along the English country side, long nappy manes flowing in the wind. We almost had a code 5 meltdown when the heard took flight. I think he takes well to England.
As soon as Sinead was wheels up, I got several social invitations. She must be holding me back. Just kidding. Although I did go to the cinema – which I never did when I lived here. It is pretty much the same, except you can buy tickets in every line. Like the soda line, and and candy line. So people are indirectly cutting you all the time, which I classify as a fail. This line policy also applies at our local Costa/Esso (basically a Texaco). I wait patiently in line for coffee, and the petrol customers are buzzing through their line, but not before they add that extra foamy skinny cappuccino with two sugars, which somehow takes priority over my black coffee that I have been waiting 25 minutes for. Oh well, I suppose it’s something I must learn to deal with.
So what do we do all day you ask?
Our typical day begins at 7 with a feed and stall cleaning. Then we come back to the Parklands Hotel where we are staying, just a few minutes down the road, for a much needed English breakfast after we have worked so hard cleaning one stall between two people. I will have to say the first day or two we ordered the full deal, but slowly we have been removing items. I really don’t understand how Brits are skinnier than Americans, in general. I really don’t.
After breakfast it’s time to ride, ice. We have adopted Ezibs pea method for soaking tates tootsies. The frozen peas added to water, conform right up into the soles of the hoof. It’s a good idea, and frozen peas are cheaper than a bag of ice, plus we can save them for dinner when times get rough. After he’s all cooled down, he gets to go outside and enjoy the great turnout at Maizey Manor. Tate loves his pasture pals. So much he almost jumped in with them yesterday. I would have to say the most stressful part of my day is turnout time. I was never ‘that girl’ but somehow I have turned into her. You know, that girl that fully boots up the horse, and annoys everyone about their horse’s schedule and double checks 45 times to make sure no one is moving any horses. And then I sit there and watch. And when we have finally convinced ourselves its safe to leave him unattended, you have this horrible feeling of abandonment and debate getting cameras installed in the field, and keep telling yourself he is a horse he is a horse he is a horse he is a horse.
Ya, thats me.
We try to keep him out for as long as possible. Somedays that is many many many hours, and some days he is just feeling too good about life to be outside for my own piece of mind, I mean – his own safety. His appetite is high, which for Mr. French Princess is so great. He has maintained his weight so well, and it is benefiting his training. I wish I had some pictures with me of Tate in Holland, and Tate today. It’s like the before and afters of P90X infomercial.
While Tate is out, Sinead and I have committed ourselves to physical fitness. At first we were running the gallops, but while S was away I was looking for a Mexican restaurant (secret eating, is that a sign of food addiction?) and instead found an affordable and pretty sweet gym. So we have been pumpin iron. I even did a zumba class the other night, and there was a granny in my class that was SHAKIN WHAT her MAMA GAVE HER. Hilarious. Not as hilarious when she was walking around nude in the change room.
So go us and our new found fitness plan. I suppose I do have to run a tough mudder in the fall – which is just ridiculous. And Sinead has to run Burghley, which is also kind of ridiculous. I also need to be able to fit into my fall clothes because, lets be honest, although a true baller at heart, a grooms salary is not conducive to wardrobe replacement every season.
After turnout time and gymtime is either hack time or walker time, or just dinner time for the princess. Then it is showertime and dinnertime for us. Some evening we go to the pubs, and others we stay in and have our landlord serve us. He loves cooking for us, and they have a really great wine selection. Last night we were social and headed over to check out Jules Stiller’s place, Headley Stud where Big Willy C (Coleman) and Irish Sarah are located. (Along with Toddy and I believe some Australians, and I also think Boydo is basing the famous Neville there). Let me tell you that place is also ridiculous. So nice – with everything one event rider could need. There is even a choochoo train jump. I want it. Irish Sarah, Big Willy C, Sinead and myself headed out to a local pub for dinner, where we reminisced about the old times. (well, they reminisced and I just nodded and laughed like I was there too). It was an early night for us all, being the Lords day and all. So we dropped them off, and headed home – stopped for gas where we discovered our prepaid card was already out of money…how DOES that happen….credit card whipped out-crisis averted, we made it home.
The last thing we do every evening is check on Mr. Tater and put him to bed. (Or ‘Party Man’ as Emily, Ezib Powers groom calls him after using her direct translation skills of his show name. And that, ladies and gentleman, is how new nicknames are born). Then we go down different halls to our rooms. Mine, next to every other room in the inn where people love slamming doors all night, and Sinead’s, a private cove with two firedoors to keep her sound proofed and sleeping like a baby.
And that’s a day in the life of us, in England, during a non-compete week. Very glamorous. I picked Sinead up from Heathrow Friday morning, and we headed straight to the barn for one of Taters last gallops before the big day. Everyone is getting excited. Even Captain Mark said he was excited after Tate’s dressage lesson. We are going show jumping tomorrow and dressage showing on Thursday. Our plan is to go Monday to Burghley so we have time to settle in a get a few rides in before we must compete. Sinead is number 96 which will put us Friday afternoon dressage, and pretty late in the day Saturday. Its going to be a long day of waiting. Almost as bad as waiting in that Costa coffee line. But Papa K once told me, good things come to those who wait – and If the end result of Saturday is as good as that coffee and cheese and onion pastry, then I will wait all day.
