At 6.30am on 25th December, I’ll be preparing the first meal of the day. So will lots of others, but we won’t be following recipes from Delia, Nigella or Jamie – we’ll be making morning feeds. Welcome to Christmas Day for horse owners, where carrots are sliced so the recipients won’t choke on them rather than being glazed with honey and red wine, and taking off wrapping paper must wait until you’ve taken off and adjusted rugs.
Even if your four-leggeds live out 24/7 with their own coats for protection, they’ll come first. We wouldn’t have it any other way, but it can be confusing for non-horsey Christmas visitors. Mince pies? Only after the mucking out. Presents? Only when you’ve had a shower to neutralise the eau de stable and washed your hair so it’s less obvious you’ve had a woolly hat crammed over it. Well, you have to make an effort for Christmas.
In our household, we always have a fantastic Christmas lunch at around 1pm, comprising turkey and all the trimmings washed down with something white and sparkly. It’s always perfectly prepared and always on time.
The reason our lunch is so good is that my husband cooks it. If your other half is a decent cook, you really should try this system. He likes it because I don’t crash around the kitchen snapping that animals need a routine, so lunch will be late, and I love it because – well, to be honest, I’d rather muck out than cook.
Sad, perhaps, but true. Many years ago, he started the tradition of a Christmas Day hack to get me out of his way. This means that a friend and I trot off around our rural landscape, complete with jingle bell reins (me) and tinsel around the martingale neckstrap (her) and he slices, dices and roasts in peace.
In my defence, I do make great mince pies: the secret, if you’re interested, is to stir grated orange peel into the pastry and a generous helping of brandy into the mincemeat.
On the way, we sometimes meet like-minded souls, including parents and children. I’m told it’s not a good idea to let riders under ten gorge on Christmas chocolate before riding, as it turns them into fractious little beasts or dare-devils who think they can jump ditches even a Galway Blazers follower would balk at.
However, it’s often so peaceful that we encounter only deer, pheasants and the occasional hare. One notable exception was the year we turned a corner to meet a helium balloon in the form of a life-size Santa caught in a hedge, which was a real Ho-ho-hold on! moment.
For us, and many other horsey folk, Christmas Day activities are fitted around horses and dogs. Whether you keep your horse at home or on a livery yard, I bet you’re the same. And isn’t it wonderful? The state of the world means that peace at Christmas is a pipedream, but when you’re looking after animals at the end of a lovely festive day, it brings a brief but precious peace of its own. That’s why a horse owner’s Christmas is so special, so I hope you enjoy yours.