“A SUNDAY ’ACK”

Hauraki Plains Gazette, Volume 51, Issue 3111, 27 April 1942, Page 7

“A SUNDAY ’ACK”

USING THE HORSE AGAIN WEEKLY TRIP TO TOWN OLD WAYS AND OLD TRADES Boots and Saddle! Horses and Harness! And now that weve got to use ’em again it doesn’t in the least stop us from facing the road with a swagger of pride '—sometimes! With petrol an incalculable quantity for the duration and imported foreign cars a thing of the past, it’s back to old ways and old trades we must turn whether we are of those who cling to our weekly shopping day in town or scrounge round for a vacant section in which to keep what the old-timers call “a Sunday ’ack” in order to get a breath of fresh country air once or twice a week. An Adventure in Store If you aren’t a farmer with already a horse or two on the place (even if they have been kept more for their I contribution to the general scenery than anything else during the last year or so) you will find the addition of your private hack to the family circle a great adventure. This, of course, doesn’t take into account the fact that you’ll also have to introduce it to your cynical (even if envious) circle of acquaintances. In the first place Neddy has got to be bought, so there comes a morning when you carefully assume, not only your riding togs, but also a hopeful air of confidence in your own judgment and make a social call upon a horsedealer. And while you flaunt your worldly wise air for the benefit of the salesman, you feel very much like you did all those years ago when you were a school boy or girl meeting your first pony.

Introducing Ned Kelly!

“Sure,” says the dealer gently as you gulp to swallow your disappointment of the horse’s unkempt condition. “I just haven’t had much time to spend on him lately but he d carry Ned Kelly himself!” I There come moments of doubt as the horse’s paces are shown. Wasn’t there something unorthodox in the way he moved off? It might only be careless shoeing but —. Anyway, you can’t locate it so it must be imagination! Actually he seems neither very g<sod nor very bad but just not quite what you expected. But all this doesn’t in the least stop from feeling as perky as a school kid when you finally ride him away. After all, didn’t you try him over a ditch that you’d only be likely to meet on the hunting field, and wasn’t the paddock you tried him in rough enough to stand him on his head if he was a daisy-cutting slug?

Getting Acquainted!

So, with a dozen miles ahead of you—you should do it comfortably in a couple of hours if he is anything of- a walker —you settle down happily, but just a shade apprehensively, to really make his acquaintance. By his shying-at his own shadow and sundry other -things that you | can’t even see, you judge that he’s no sheep and has good sight plus a powerful imagination. He doesn’t take long to put you through his own private and particular selection of tryouts and leaves you guessing whether he’s a high-headed fool or a lazy grass-snatcher with a habit of coming to life at inopportune moments. He might also be hard to catch, a bridle breaker or a backbiter. All of which indicates , the probability that he’s just a plain calculating rogue in which case he’ll be as sweet a lad as you could meet nine times out of ten, but the tenth

time ! At the same time he’s already well on the way to wriggling into your affections and you’ve just about argued yourself into a policy of swearing toy him when you are with your cronies, even if you swear at him in private. And he’s now yours, which makes all the difference.

Important People

Bringing Ned Kelly home, zhowever, doesn’t complete the fun. You now have to make the acquaintance of two very important members of the community. After all, you can’t keep that borrowed saddle and bridle forever, and Ned must have new shoes before making too intimate acquaintance with the “ ’ard ’ighway.”

Visiting a saddler these days is like being witness to a resurrection. Saddles and harness of all ages and conditions decorate the walls or lie in musty heaps as they await attention on the floor. They are badly worn spare parts rather than whole

units of harness, but with the return of Ned Kelly’s relations to the road, they must all be made whole again. And with the mustiness of old leather, there is the sharper smell of the new; there are smells, too, of soft soap, oil, twines and check linings. All these must be part of any real proper saddler’s shop.

Resurrection

“They bring me stuff that hasn’t been used for 20 years and they haven’t even put a drop of oil on it or cleaned it since they used it last,” says the saddler grumblingly. Diffidently you mention the reason for your call, and the catalogue comes out from behind the roll of leather that’s used, maybe, as part of the window (or rather shelf) dressing.

You gulp when prices are mentioned for the good old days have long departed. With an air of respect which is born of anxiety (after all buying Ned pulled down the bank balance somewhat) you enquire for second-hand saddles.

No Basement Bargains

It is then, as a preliminary to letting you know that these are not days of basement bargains in personal effects for Neddy, the saddler makes you his friend. Adopting you into his circle of cronies with a confidential gesture, he tells you the sad story of prices and things as they are. Twine that the layman might think costs 3/6 a pound is just about a note more. Buckles, particularly nickel ones, are almost worth their weight in silver (one doesn’t mention gold now!). And leather! Good, old-fashioned hide for making saddle flaps and bridles and heavy cart harness, why, he can wring your heart with his tales of his search for it. Saddle serge is a thing of the past and check lining is all that he can promise.

An agent as he is for one of the big saddlery firms, he will tell you that only two men make saddles for half of New Zealand, and while there’s a war on tradesmen are not likely to be trained, so that’s just another difficulty.

But then, just as you begin to despair, he smiles nicely and while he probably hasn’t read Negley Farson “Bomber’s Moon” you are reminded of that writer’s picture of a saddler’s shop alongside the Thames. Standing as it did amid a line of wrecked buildings, passers-by could see through the open doorway saddlers stitching away at leather harness as if their lives depended upon it. And your saddler too, comments that “while there’s ’osses there must be ’amess,” and he’ll do just what he can for you and your Neddy!

Fellowship Around the Forge

It’s on your next half-day (or some other such convenient occasion) that, in company with Ned, you make your first appearance at the business premises of the other pillar of society upon whom you depend for your horse’s welfare. You’ll find them a jolly crowd around the blacksmith’s shop and as they lead in their own horses they’ll certainly let you have their candid opinions of Ned —not that it’s likely to be over complimentary.

And amid the dust and varied smells and noises of the shop, you’ll find yourself drawn into the fellowship of those who know and like horses for what they are. If you’re a man you’ll adjourn to that other building which is the natural partner of the store artfl blacksmith’s shop to christen that inauguration, and if you’re a lady it’ll be just too bad! But anyway, when you’re too old and stiff to ride, and when a reconstituted League of Nations, sees to it there’s no more war and no more petrol shortage, you’ll look back upon your excursions with Ned Kelly and sigh for the days that are gone.