Terrifying Tales and a Long Lost Friend

Urban myth or true story, I don't want a pet snake!

I have to date failed to keep up with modern methods of internet communication and have not been a great user of Facebook, MySpace or the many other networking sites that exist. I don't mind them, I'm sure they are a very good way of keeping in touch with the friend you saw at the weekend, but I simply haven't been that bothered. I sit in awe as I see colleagues with literally hundreds of connections/friends typing feverishly to inform their network of each and every aspect of their lives.

I have an account on Facebook that has laid pretty dormant until about a week ago and a significant number of my friends are linked due to the fact they have moved away to sunnier climates, bred children or are friends from oversees, thus leaving no option than to communicate via a virtual medium due to distance or the sudden realization that their newborn bundle of joy has all but snuffed out their social lives and from now on they will be forced to enjoy other peoples' tales of wild nights out, as it seems babysitters always have to go home just as any party starts to get wild.

Recently however I have been drawn to the dark side and am now totally at ease with uploading photographs, telling the world about what I am doing at 7.43 on a Saturday morning and I can even now determine which Winnie the Pooh character I am (Tigger).

But this has not a great deal to do with what I meant to write about.

A few months ago, through a previously unmentioned networking site, I got back in touch with a friend from my teenage years who I had been out of contact with for a mere, ooh, 25 years... Apart from making me feel really old being able to write that last line, it's been an altogether pleasant and somewhat eye opening experience that led us to meet a couple of months ago and open eyes very wide indeed and dropping a few jaws to levels thought physiologically impossible. It's safe to say that memories do tend to bias things and i-wife, who in the name of propriety was present throughout, spent hours laughing as my ex-girlfriend and I (did I mention that part?) shared stories that to be honest differed to such an extent that I'm not even sure we dated or indeed knew each other at all!

Present at the whole event was ex-girlfriend, now mother of two and professional lady (who'd have thought?), i-wife and i-sister in-law who is an academic/creative type and who's input into the evening sent shivers down my spine.

Sister in-law is currently doing a PhD in something Shakespearean and does some classes for the undergrads. She was recently taking a class in 'scary literature', although I'm sure the class had a far classier and more sophisticated title that befits the literati and academically elite, however I forget what she called it. Scary literature is more of a 'does what it says on the tin' title.

The remit of the class was to look at scary stories throughout the ages and I guess discuss them. One of the attendies however had a tale that he insisted was true. It goes thus:

A young lady I know has a snake that she simply adores. The snake, a Boa Constrictor, has spend the past few years in the company of my friend and has been the main focus of her life. The snake shares the house with her and even curls up at the end of the bed when she goes to sleep.

Just recently she has noticed that the snake has not been eating and was worried about its' health so she took it to the vet. The vet asked a few questions about the snake's habits and as the snake had not really changed any behavioral traits and lacked any signs of ill health, the vet suggested she keep an eye out and if the snake had not started to eat within a few weeks, she should return for a more in-depth examination.

A few days later the young lady awoke to see the snake was lying next to her, however rather than being curled up at the foot of the bed, it was laid out straight as a pole next to her. This she thought a little odd, however put it down to the snake's recent abstinence from food. The next day however, she awoke and the snake had assumed the same position. A call to the vet was now due.

Whilst the examination was in progress, the vet asked whether the snake had been acting strange, or whether all was OK, apart from the lack of appetite. The young lady decided to mention the whole snake pole thing and as she told the vet of the weird wake up position, the vet's face went visibly pale.

"Do you live alone?" was the first question. "Can you get someone to come and stay with you?" followed, sending alarm bells off in my friend's mind.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"You must not stay in the house alone with the snake." the vet announced.

"There's a reason your snake is not eating. There's a reason he was laying next to you like a pole..."

"Your snake is starving itself."

"The reason it's lying next to you is to measure itself against you."

"Your snake is getting ready to EAT YOU!"

Now, shivers aside, I have to say that I was not expecting that. I even didn't believe it possible, however after a little research, I found that a 120lb female human could in some cases be something of a snack for a large snake. There are a million and one websites that show videos of snakes eating creatures larger than my wife - a sight that leaves me feeling a little good, a little bad. At least if a peckish python or an ambitious Boa gets into my house, the wife is sure to get it before me!

So the moral of the story. Never forget your friends as they may one day again bring joy to your life. And. Never go to bed without someone smaller next to you!

Finally I get my leg over!

For some years now i-wife has accused me of being a serial hobbyist, a claim I refute somewhat nervously as she may have a point.

Golf, photography, playing the guitar, rugby, racquetball, basketball, cycling and cooking are arguably a fair representation of recent flirtations with hobbies and leisure activities, and admittedly most of the expenditure on the above listed has been difficult to justify.

However! Oh however... I-wife stand aside... I have finally found my hobby - I am a horse riding nut!

It's been 3 months now, an hour per week and considerable expense to ensure I look the part, but to date I have struggled to get my leg over. Eric has been super patient and has quietly stood still while I kicked his rear end every time I tried to dismount, but today, success, I finally managed to get my leg over his hind quarters, dismount him and effect a landing that would make Nastia Liukin fear for her Olympic dreams in 2012. It's difficult to imagine, even for me, but today I was for a moment in time, on top of my personal equestrian world.

Note: Eric is a horse.

So, why horse riding you may ask? After all, it's not exactly without risk and whilst you are young, you have a greater tendency to 'bounce' when tumbling to the ground at quite a considerable speed, as demonstrated most gracefully by a young rider who only today parted company with her steed, landing with a thump, promptly getting up, dusting herself off and continuing as if nothing had happened. Plasticity is king it seems and the greater the ability to bend, the better chance you have of remaining in tact when one's charge gleefully canters off into the distance without you, save a lonely boot that is wedged into a stirrup.

When it comes to cash investment, horse riding makes even golf seem like a bargain hobby. The helmet, the jodhpurs (not a pretty site, but essential for avoiding chafing), the boots, the chaps, the body protector that led my 3 year old to comment that I looked like a policeman (how a 3 year old would know that I care not to imagine), and I dare not mention the lessons; all pretty quickly make a new Big Bertha seem extreme value for money and buying used golf clubs or pond balls is far more acceptable and hygienic than a previously owned helmet or boots.

I have to say, it's worth every penny though, possibly proved by the fact that last week I landed at Heathrow airport at 07.00 having flown an overnighter from Washington DC, collected my bags, drove 99 miles door to door and still managed to be riding at 10.00.

Well, it's simple (unless you want to get into deep conversations about men that reach a certain age and start riding motor bikes, buying sports cars and shopping at Henry Lloyd in an attempt to prove they still have 'it' - none of which I have done incidentally as Henry Lloyd doesn't seem to do XL sizes), daughter #2 is fanatical about riding ponies and every weekend for many months I have stood watching her enjoying herself, unable to find sufficient plausible reasons not to give it a go. She has been trying to get me to join in for months and I now regret the missed opportunities when I was busy making feable excuses not to join in.

So has it met my with my expectations?

It has certainly cost more that I expected. It has definitely scared the pants off me more than I imagined, particularly today when cantering around the school convinced that Eric's ears were supposed to be below my head and that I should actually not be hanging on for dear life thinking 'STAY TALL, STAY TALL' in an attempt not to test my levels of bounciness on the rubber and sand mix that doubles for a crash mat. Most of all it's given me something that I never expected, something that money cannot buy that means more than my ability to do the perfect rising trot, run my poles or even canter with the horse below me as is apparently the norm. I share something with my 10 year old daughter that nobody can take away. Something that is for us, our special time, a chance to be together without a mobile phone or the need to be somewhere else - that is why I love to ride. That is why I drove 99 miles on 3 hours sleep and climbed on a few hundred pounds of slightly emotionally unstable muscle, not because I love the thrill, because I treasure the time.

It's Fathers' Day tomorrow, a chance for kids to show their respective dads how much they care and love them and this year daughter #2 has arranged for herself and daughters #3 & #4 to take me to a family day at a nearby golf club. They are all as excited as their ages allow at the opportunity to make Daddy happy and proud, and the build up to the event is as important as will be the day. It's a powerful reminder that whilst tomorrow is officially a day for Daddies, what really counts is that we recognize and cherish that the love of our kids is unconditional, pretty much irrevocable and stays strong every day of every year for ever and ever.

The opportunity to ride with my daughter is one I will hold on to and treasure. The chance to read a book with my little ones, or the recent excursion to see As You Like It at the RSC with daughter #1 are all ones for the scrapbook and whilst I don't write a diary or keep a little box of memorabilia, these occassions will stay close to my heart forever.

Happy Fathers' Day to all and a special thank you to my Dad on this day for being such a wonderful man for so many years. I am proud to call him my father and his influence and understanding has helped me be the person I am.