I need new gloves. I had two pairs of summer weight, ripped the palm out of the first pair, and holes are springing up all over my second. I do have a pair of heavier ones, but I’m not keen to go back to them. They’re too heavy, and now that my hands are [slightly] more sensitive, I don’t think I’ll be able to feel the bit as well as I ought.
For such a horsey nation, there is an utter absence of horsey shops in auld Dublin town. As I don’t have a car, this makes online shopping my raison d’etre. Which is okay… but whilst I’ve been lucky in finding jods I like that I can order without fear, I’m starting to get fussy about my other bits and pieces.
I want a fancy arse pair of leather gloves. I admit it. Nice, soft, leather riding gloves. There was a pair I had my hands on at the Dublin Horse Show in August [a post in the making, I’m still trying to get my breath after that extraordinary display of all things equine], but my Mastercard was whimpering, and I didn’t pick them up.
So, no car, which makes shopping impossible, and my journey to the stables, to one who cares far, far less than I, sometimes astoundingly arduous.
Tonight I took a bus to the light rail system to a taxi to get out there. Homeward, it’s a lift to one bus into town, than another out to my apartment on Dublin Bay. Saturdays I’ve hit it lucky, and I get a lift [after a bus journey], and then a lift out again, to another bus… to get my second bus.
As I was hoofin’ it to the tram, I took a moment to be amazed at myself. The countryside is not far, as the crow flies, from the centre of Dublin— you can see the mountains all round, and it’s grand thing altogether. Trying to get there on the rather limited Dublin Bus system is truly a test of devotion, however.
I used to be in a state of panic, especially in the dark of winter, about getting a lift down to a bus, any bus, after my Tuesday night lesson. Now, I get offers from everyone, and I am grateful. Grateful for the kindness, but even more for my ability to just ask. Asking for help. Not in the top ten of my hit parade, but something that has reaped some really terrific results. It’s humbling thing, asking for help, and something as simple as a lift had been far out of my ken. There’s that ego business again. Might be about how I can’t afford to run a car [I’m spending that money on the horses!], so hey, I let that go like a blazing coal. Things are changing, and an hour long commute is as amenable to me as is cadging for lifts wherever I can.
So… anybody got a brand of gloves they might want tell me about?