BUT I’M OKAY WITH THAT I joined the British Horse Society, Gold Membership, as Gold membership holders get free insurance. ‘Free’ being £58 a year, but that sounded like good value to me. Personal injury and liability, woo hoo. No, I’m pleased with myself for doing the sensible thing, and when I received a packet full of brochures and catalogues, my pleasure increased, and then went absolutely off the charts when I saw the pin.
Fashioned in gold [or should I say, ‘gold’], a horse’s head rises out of the horseshoe in which it is cradled, with the letters ‘BHS’ proudly picked out in blue. I immediately think to pin it to my hat, but change my mind just as directly. I’d hate to fall on it— although if I pin it right above the visor— nah, I like my black velvet hat unadorned but for the ribbon at the back.
I pin it to the light, fleece-lined jacket I routinely wear. I am delighted with the pin, the pin-and-jacket combination, and myself.
I forget it’s there until everyone compliments me on it on Saturday. I burble about it, and my membership, proudly.
I’ve always been a big dork. I have always had interests into which I throw myself completely. These interests have been all-consuming, requiring things like memberships to clubs, and yes, trips, I went on a bunch of soccer trips when I supported the New York Cosmos back in the late… uh, never mind. There’s a part of me that is aware that the horses may fall into this category— newest passion, but for how long?— and I suppose I’ll accept the possibility that this too shall pass… but the combination of mind, body, and dare I say, soul, that I’ve found in this particular pursuit bodes well for its longevity.
Sure, we’ll see. If nothing else, I’ve got the pin to prove I did it.