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A parent's view of HOYS

For me the HOYS experience is the end of a long process after all the training and preparation has been completed. It’s only then that you can start to enjoy the week ahead as you roll up to the NEC on set-up morning with a lorry full of tack room kit and not a pony in sight. The sense of anticipation is absolutely enormous.

Tack room set up goes smoothly, albeit with the last minute adjustments to make everything fit into the stable that somehow is always smaller than the year before. The power tools always come in handy, especially the circular saw when you need to re-design your wheelbarrows!

Monday being over it’s time for a sit down with the rest of the team, the first of many, many glasses of wine and of course to sample the culinary skills of tonight’s cooking team. As always the food is plentiful and excellent.

Tuesday is always a day to relax once the late practice in the main arena is out of the way – by late I mean 8.15 am !! but more of that later. Whilst the team practise their entertainment, which I’m assured this year, will not be embarrassing – at least not to watch anyway, the rest of us debate when it is safe to erect the Gazebos which will form coffee room, dining room and late night bar for the week. Time to go down for the entertainment (take your own supplies!) to see if any of the teams have learn’t the lessons from previous years. It’s apparent that they have and an enjoyable hour and half is spent watching the kids perform and looking excited at the prospect of the competition ahead.

Wednesday morning almost arrives (4.45 am), someone has beaten me to switching on the generator but I’ll get my own back tomorrow. Only for a slight moment do you debate your sanity as you trudge down to practice at 6:00am. Practice goes ok, followed by the cleaning of the overreach and brushing boots – not a kid in sight! Right after a light breakfast, let’s try out the showers  – I’m told you need to go to the 3rd block down to ensure hot water – obviously there’s more of us in there but at least it is hot. The warm up competition begins and we seem to be taking everything in our stride, a few little mistakes but at least it keeps us on our toes. Another fantastic dinner enjoyed at camp, courtesy of today’s chefs, boosted by the arrival of a new generator. We really do live a life of relative luxury – well all things are relative !!. The evening session is another success, the highlight of which was a faultless litter race. Back to camp to clean, then back up to the arena to watch some top-class action – only there’s nothing to compare to Mounted games in all honesty so just have a laugh instead.

Thursday arrives, yep I was right about that generator – got there first at 4.45. Looks like it’s going to be a scorcher of a day since it’s freezing at present and all the stars are burning very brightly. By lunchtime I’m contemplating putting shorts on, but I have to think about not upsetting anybody, so discretion kicks in. The afternoon session sees us win the Farmers Guardian Trophy and the tack room is now full of red rosettes. At least we get Thursday night off, except that I’ve got to cook curry for the entire NEC, at least it feels like it. We should be raising the roof tonight!

Friday comes in with no change in the weather and we can look forward to starting our Prince Philip Cup campaign. Everyone is feeling relaxed. The afternoon session goes as planned, but tonight we’re on the telly so time for a wash and general spruce up. As expected the session in the ring is a little disappointing, for the first time we don’t get a red rosette, but no doubt we’ll benefit from not having things our own way. It will help the team to re-focus although I think with how much beer and wine was consumed at the inquisition we’ll do well to focus at all.

Saturday’s practice sees one of the ponies have a problem with the dragon, but instinctively the team run with the spare pony and everything is fine. After breakfast it’s time to hit the shopping mall before the weekenders get there, but it’s already too late; the place is heaving with the heavy mob who have stolen the credit cards from their husbands or in some cases they’ve just slung a thick dog chain around their necks and attached casters to their feet. Tension builds around Saturday afternoon’s performance as we all know that we’re still level on points and must just put last night’s disappointment behind us. A roller coaster of a session follows during which we either win or come last, but it’s enough to tie the session.

Saturday evening meal is again a joy to behold, tainted slightly by a serious incident within the Welsh camp. In true Pony Club fashion the teams all get involved to help out wherever possible and the unfortunate youth is whisked away to hospital, so not very pleasant but the blow is cushioned by the genuine concern shown by all teams. Following the evening session there’s still a lot of work to do in order to qualify for Sunday’s Final, so the dilemma of whether to allow the kids to watch the Puissance or get them back for an early night is not much of an issue – we’re here to win, get to bed !!

Sunday dawn’s with huge expectation and growing pressure. Will the kids be able to handle it! Never mind the kids, will the Parents and the DC be able to handle it. Following Sunday afternoon’s session which sees us put ourselves into a slender lead, the kids lock themselves away to hype up, the parents seek out their lucky talisman’s to take into the arena (there’s mention of various jewellery and under-garment, but I’m sticking with my lucky can of Stella) and we generally go about our business. The walk up to the arena for Sunday evening is electrifying, and we eventually take our place high up in the stands, drowned out by Land of Our Fathers, but then we see and hear the massive Atherstone contingent as the teams enter the arena. It’s just like Gladiator! A shaky start ensues but we end up winning the race, then we lose the next, then we win the next – it’s almost unbearable. We arrive at the final race – Big Sack, we’re good at that, and as 3 teams cross the line almost together we realise we’ve won that race and indeed the Prince Philip Cup. All around there’s screams and tears, hugging and kissing. It’ll take a while to sink in but we’ve done it. There’s a champagne reception laid on at camp and after a few hours relief, to bed, safe in the knowledge that in a few hours we can dismantle the tack room – I really love that bit.