"It's Mr. Little's tie, Sir. . ."

Not quite like Bingo Little's necktie that so offended Jeeves' sensibilities, but it will do nicely for yours truly.

I am long-time fan of P.G. Wodehouse's stories and novels about Bertie Wooster, Jeeves, and their various misadventures, and of course the Jeeves and Wooster series from the 1990s, which is the gold standard when it comes to TV and film adaptations.  It should come as no surprise then that I have been on the lookout for a red necktie with horseshoes, as worn by Bingo Little, for ages.  At long last, I turned up something acceptable at Horse & Hound for a reasonable price.  

Vain, empty-headed popinjay that I am, this will be fun to trot out from time to time once classes resume in late August.  And I can almost guarantee that none of my students, if they even notice, will be the wiser when it comes to the literary inspiration behind this particular accessory.  

And yes.  Before anyone asks, or makes a snide remark, I did ride at one time in the misty past, though I never quite got the hang of jumping.  We owned two horses plus a Shetland Pony for my younger sister, being one of several such horsey families in our small corner of Berks County, Pennsylvania who did.  Most knew each other, of course, a few of the fathers did business together in their professional lives, and the kids from the families concerned all went to school together and were friends more or less.  Now that I think about it, the children from three such families, including my sister and me, rode the same school bus together.

At any rate, good ol' Mom made sure we had plenty of English-style riding lessons privately and at summer camp each year.  Mrs. McCarty, the mother of one such school friend, lived about five minutes away by car and gave us riding lessons.  Equally important, perhaps, we learned about caring for large livestock: feeding, watering, grooming, cleaning up after, exercising, shoeing, occasional doctoring, and so forth.  Responsibility dare I say.  Horses are beautiful but fragile, skittish creatures, and there is quite a bit to think about behind the scenes to keep everything clicking along as it should.  It's a hell of a lot of work looking after horses in other words.   The saddling up, riding, possibly showing, and/or hunting is only the small tip of the iceberg.  

For all of that, a horse barn is not a bad place to spend one's days.  Not bad at all. 

In connection to our equestrian pursuits, we also attended several shows each spring and summer, including The Devon Horse Show closer in to Philadelphia.  My sister and I never rode in any of them although a few of the sons and (mainly) daughters from other families did.  There were also a few hunts in the area that my sister and mother attended as spectators each autumn. 

Yes.  I know, I know.  I can hear the populist outrage and creaking guillotines now.  If the Young Master shows an interest, though, I may very well continue the horsey tradition and let him try his own hand at a few riding lessons to see if it is something he wants to pursue longer term.  Happily, we have a few English-style stables nearby where father and son might look into this, as well as some vintage episodes of Tom Baker-era Dr. Who, this summer once school ends in mid-June.  Not long now.

-- Heinz-Ulrich