A blast from the past

A very unexpected package arrived by courier yesterday. It must have cost my ex's new wife a fortune to send, as it was very large, and very heavy. Yep, by courier no less.

No, she did not pack up and send me my ex - but thank you for asking ;-)

To cut a long story short, my ex retained our photo albums when I left. I didn't leave them behind on purpose, and I did ask for them back many times, but after hearing he'd thrown the lot on a bonfire it seemed pointless to ask again.

It hurt to think all my teenage memories were gone; my horses, my school friends, my boyfriends, my motorbikes.. all gone. (Didn't wince once about the loss of wedding photos.. I really don't *do* white lace anyway!)

Anyhoo, the ex's-next must have seized an opportunity when his back was turned to dig them out of whatever musty shed they've been mouldering in (and do I ever mean "mould"!!) and send them on with a terse and emphatic note on the front "Remember Karlene, NO COMMUNICATION".

(Does that mean dinner's off, then?)

It does seem rude not to say thank you, especially as she retained the "Karl & Greg" photos and sent on the rest. But you don't have to ask me twice.. I can play mum with the best of them.

(But hey, new Mrs S, if you're reading this.. THANK YOU!!!)

I do have to wonder though, just how many tabs she keeps on me. She addressed it to me using my job title within our Riding Club, and named the club in the address.

WTF???

Also a bit freaky to think other people have flipped through my teenage ramblings, and I wonder if they snickered as much as I did when the list of my boyfriends (by the age of 18) fell out of one of the albums, or what they made of my Billy Idol scrap book.

Among the dusty treasures (and some trash, ie the scrapbook) were Dad's bone carvings, his briefcase, and some family tree information. Braeden will appreciate these windfalls later.

So here's some of the photos that made me snort with laughter last night, and I hope you get a giggle from them too.

Only seems fair to lead off with the love of my teenage life.. a big bouff stock horse named Luke, who most commonly answered to his nickname, "Boo".

I rode him in a snaffe for the first week or two, until June (my trainer) got hold of me and suggested I use his rightful bit, a Pelham. It sounds dreadful, but Boo had been a riding school horse and as such had a mouth like a steel trap. The only thing that stopped him (errr.. slowed him is probably more accurate) from putting his ears between his knees and launching you into orbit was that snib chain. I do not recommend Pelhams in the wrong hands, never fear!

Here we are learning to do poles. Boo needed to stretch out and become more limber, after many years rotting in a paddock after getting caught in wire mid-gallop and nearly becoming a biped in the process. Long story, tell ya later. Get the tissues in first, okay?

Stealing toast out of the toaster. Gee.. I wish any of us could take a decent photo back then.

With my dog, Manu. Yep, Manu really was a poodle ;-) Funny how Boo never bucked anyone off unless they were teenagers, eh!

And my boyfriend at the time, David G. Was I smug or WHAT, 17 years old and dating a forestry worker in his mid 20's who had his own bike. Some pushy pom came and took him off me by doing what I wouldn't. You could say I was kinda mad over that for a while, but it was for the best, as he went off to have about a million kids with her, then divorced, while I went on to have outrageous fun, ride many more bikes & horses, and finally settled down (err.. grew up?) just last year when Braeden was born.

Baby pix will resume next time. And be grateful you only had to sit through one horse and one boyfriend.. LOL! (20+ of one, about 8 or so of the other.. I had my priorities right!)