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If you were a student at Porlock Vale Equitation Centre in its days as a British Horse Society Training Centre and want to share your experiences or even reconnect with old friends, e-mail jean.morris@localroutes.co.uk Jacqueline Peck (author) Naomi Johnson (April 1962) Gail Huhtamaki (Summer 1969) Carol Barber (Winter 1969) Lorna Ross (Fall 1970) Eileen Moran (Fall 1973) Nicola Turner Cox (1976) Annie Walton (1978) Gillian Kilburn (1979-81) |
From: Nicola Turner Cox
(acox@optusnet.com.au) Hi - I just read your blog on PVEC, whilst doing some research on equestrian centres in Somerset. I had not realised it had closed down - what a shame. I am returning to UK from overseas after 25 or so years and have thought about returning to coaching. I have started serious dressage lessons and what a wonderful thing muscle memory is just a pity about the hip joints. I have very fond memories of PVEC - 1976 and it was I think one of the hottest summers on record and I think that is why my jumping was so good the ground was just too hard to fall off on! I remember the American girls all had perfect leather boots - which a lot of us Brits did not. And funnily enough the boots I have today are all from US - as I lived there for 7 years or so in a horse world during the 80s. I am not sure if this email still works for you so will keep this email brief. Best Nicola Turner Cox * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Top of Page * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * From: Annie Walton (waltonart@comcast.net) Sent:: 14 Aug 2008 Subject: PVEC! Hi- I'm Annie Walton - WP at Porlock around 1978 and found the site while tooling around the 'net. After Porlock I married a local, had 2 sons and came back to the USA. One son is finishing his Master's up in Edinbrugh and is going down to Somerset to visit his Dad's family and I was trying to see if any ex-PVECS were still in Somerset. WOW thanks for the site! :) I'm short on time at the moment but names started poking through the years - Rosie Cockerton, Peter Cook, Michele Thornton - Peter Thornton her father bought it while I was there. Pippa Hatton, Beth Helfrich, Pam Montegue, Jenny Sincock, Rosie Foreacre, John and Dale Lassater and the Lippies- some of the gigis, like Flight, Driscoll, Emma, Sabre, 'Bucket' ( not his real name- he was a big dun gelding SOOO kind), Crunchy (a mentally ill equine specimen you HATED to see your name next to for lessons), Seabrook, Bridey. I can see others in my head but can't remember names. I haven't been able to see a mention of it but I also remember GHOSTS and having the stuffing scared out of me TONS of time. PVEC was awesome- and made me a big pain-in-the-neck of a stable manager back across the pond with emphasis on TIDY and deep-litter and anal attention to muck heaps and tail bandages and daily tack cleaning....etc. I learned alot about not getting killed while putting hind boots on cranky Hanovarians with stringhalt. (Well maybe once in the shoulder but who's counting? :) Lassaters had the Lippies there in Main yard - they occupied Cages, I think. Very cool to get on that duty although I remember being amazed that 5 stallions were so laid-back. It was no joke keeping them immaculate, either. I see one of the ex students wrote something about 'one manure allowed' and we went through a phase of not even having that. Peter Thornton had a brochure done after he bought Porlock - I think it was around for years and it's me, Beth Helfrich, Rosie Foreacre, Jenny Sincock, an entirely intimidating Brit named Jane (she was all Pony Club and won a scholarship to PVEC which she hated as inferior. You went up to her room and she had pictures of herself shaking hands with a petite, familiar looking woman who turned out to be the Queen. Jane was a kick-stunningly beautiful and aloof and posh as heck and a crashing snob but really really likable in spite of all that - or maybe because of it. Always wondered where she is and keep expecting to see her in the Royal Watch section of People magazine. A grand Duchess in the making if you ever saw one. Sorry for the sidebar...) were the group posing in front of the house. Michelle Thornton- a really lovely and close friend for years, was the rider over jumps- I think Sue Gregory and Vicki Brown were side-saddle and lungeing. I still have one and it makes me clearly remember that day. There's way too much to write here- maybe another time. But thanks so much for the site. Hope it gets more hits. Annie Walton * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Top of Page * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * From: Gillian Kilburn
(gill@stoneleigh2005.f2s.com) Hi, Fabulous reading! Came across this site whilst doing my homework for my daughters choice of Universities! (Strayed a bit though!) I was a working pupil at Porlock in 1979-81 studying the BHSAI. The descriptions of Porlock from your letters are absolutely spot on, some of which I had totally forgotten. The immaculate muck heap which we nicknamed Doogle (from the magic roundabout) and the yard inspections and of course only 1 pile of droppings found in the stable would be acceptable and so on!!! Whilst I was there Rosie? was principle along with Peter Cook (chief Instructor). I understood that Mr Thornton owned Porlock then. Because I was from "up north" I generally was ridiculed but nicely about my accent . I had a wonderful 2 years there, and met many good friends. Good Luck to All, Gillian * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Top of Page * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * From: Lorna
Ross (LRoss250@aol.com) Dear Jean: What a great discovery your site is for me. I enjoyed reading your memories and seeing your pictures. I, too, am an alumna of Porlock Vale Riding School. I attended the fall session in 1970. If my memory is correct, our class was made up of 1/3 English, Canadian, and American each. Colonel Crawford did occasionally observe our riding classes and offer his helpful instruction. I remember well that he called me into his office and explained to me the proper way to make a 10 meter circle, I think it was, on horseback. Of course, the rider should be able to glimpse the horse's corner eyelashes at all times during the manoeuvre. He was patient and kind unlike our normal instructors, Jenny, Sue and Tony. It was tough work, starting weekdays for us at 7:00 with morning stables and not ending until 6:30 supper. I especially remember the chore of squaring off the muck heap and making sure that there was a nice rim around the top. Also, memorable were a couple trips to the farrier in Porlock Village. I thought the food was good, especially the steamed treacle with custard sauce. Hard work improved this fussy girl's appetite. The horse that I cared for was Nougat, a gentle, though uninspired fellow. I sincerely regret the strikes of my crop to the old boy that I inflicted on him, in order to get him through the cross country course during the final exams. My way of relating to animals these days are much gentler. Saturday mornings we rode cross country over the moors. Absolutely wonderful - the horses loved it, too. On evenings off, my room mate, Christina from Tennessee, and Jean from Massachusetts, and Sue from Canada and I (from Massachusetts, at that time, also) would walk to the Weir for dinner and a drink. Somehow we even made it to London for a day or two. I have many treasured pictures to go with my vivid memories and the school literature that I've saved. All in all, the experience was profoundly meaningful for me. It was a tremendous adventure. I've often drawn upon it, saying, "I actually did that, now I can get through this challenge." Since that time, I have returned to the UK six more times and to Porlock, specifically, 3 times of those. The most meaningful trip was in 2003 when I spent a few days at Porlock Vale Manor. It seemed as if it had been merely days since 1970, not 33 years. And they say, "You can't go back in time!" It was terrific. Kind regards, * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Top of Page * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * From: Imogen
Reynolds (mnereyn@hotmail.co.uk) Dear Madam, I saw quite by chance the various letters on the Porlock website and wondered if you might be able to help me. I am writing a treatise on riding clothing and kit through the ages and whilst research up until about 1939 is relatively easy as there are a lot of books about them all, there is a gap from then until really modern times. I have found it very difficult to find out much about what exactly people wore to ride in the '50's, '60's and early '70's before all the things like rubber riding bootrs, stretch nylon breeches, breathable waterproof jackets etc. came on the scene. Everything today can be thrown into a washing machine but that cannot then have been the case? In particular, while I know that everyone had a "riding mackintosh" for wet weather, there are literally none of these around nowadays and I cannot even find photographs of them. Would you be able to tell me what you wore riding in the rain at Porlock and, assuming you all had riding mackintoshes, what they were like. Two people from that generation have told me directly opposite things about them. One said he hated wearing one as they were smelly, got dirty easily and were very stiff, while the other said she loved wearing her "mac" as they were completely waterproof, very protective, warm, windproof and had a high collar which you could fasten round your throat to keep the rain from dripping down your neck (unlike the flimsy jackets we have today !) Any information, memories etc., that you can let me have would be very gratefully received.
Yours Faithfully, * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Top of Page * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * From: Jacqueline
Sanders (jacquelinepeck@lycos.com)
Dear
Jean,
Somehow it lost it's way. Captain Tony Collings set a wonderful
goal for all to follow. Somehow as time passed the goal was lost.
A quote from a successful former pupil perhaps sums up how the
majority of ex-pupils felt.
There will never be another Porlock and unfortunately the
equestrian world is unable to reverse time. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Top of Page * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * From:
Naomi Johnson (naomijohnson@aim.com) Dear Jean-- I recently heard that the old Dickensian workhouse is now a lovely resort. I was checking their website thinking about spending a few days there in early September when I came across your article. Your vivid descriptions certainly brought back memories. I went to Porlock a very bold but extremely naive 18-year-old in April 1962. I had seen the Disney movie Horsemasters and knew that was what I wanted to do more than anything else in the world. I left New York on the Queen Mary (third class) in early April. The weather was beautiful, and even though I was way down in the "hole" of the ship, it was a wonderful, exciting voyage. I arrived in Southampton about a week later and had to take the train across the country to Minehead, an all day journey as there were long waits between connections. When I arrived, the main house was full, so I had to stay at a cottage near the Weir for a week or so. As I was getting unpacked, I realized that the suitcase with my riding gear was missing--it had been left in Southampton. Since we were to begin riding within a few day, there was no time to have the suitcase sent, so I had to return to Southampton to get the bag. That involved a two day journey because there were no trains returning in the evening. This additional excursion just about depleted my very limited finances, but I had to spend the night, so I asked my cab driver to take me to an inexpensive place to stay and pick me up in the morning. He took me to a very seedy rooming house in a rough section of town. It was already dark, and dinner had been served, so I didn’t get to eat. The proprietor led me up a long, dark flight of stairs to a cold, musty attic room with a small gas burning heater in the far corner. It cost a shilling to turn it on for an hour‘s “heat,” but it really didn’t do much good. I was cold and scared and didn’t get any sleep that night expecting Jack the Ripper or worse to appear. I figured that this little American girl had just had her last tour of England; but finally morning arrived and along with it the cab driver who took me to the train station for another day’s odyssey across the country. This time with my riding clothes. The weather was still quite cold and damp in April, and I got awfully sick. The accommodations at the cottage where I stayed for the first week were very comfortable, so even though I was sick, it was bearable. Then I moved into the main house. Our rooms were just as cold and damp as it was outside, and I stayed sick for almost a month. But life goes on. It was up at six, out to the barn, feed, fill hay nets, muck out with those heavy muck sacks, bed and bank stalls, groom, clean, wash feet, and finally, everyone lined up to sweep and swill the yard. The muck sacks were made from burlap feed sacks with baling twine attached to each corner. We either carried them on our backs and were covered with straw and smelt like manure or dragged them on the cobblestones. The latter choice made it necessary to make a new one every few days. Before we left the barn, the horses had to pass the fingernail scrape inspection. Then we went up for a hearty English breakfast, and except for the milk often being sour, breakfast was generally enjoyable. I really did not mind the greasy eggs. That cannot be said about the other two meals. The food the working students and the paying horsemaster candidates was fed, for the most part, was atrocious (although I can't remember flies in the food, just in the milk). We were served liver one day that was literally as tough as shoe leather, and the beef and kidney pies were without beef, and the kidney was inedible. I led a hunger strike for a few meals and was almost shipped back to the States. During the first week, we were divided into two groups based on our riding skills and experience. The groups alternated weekly between riding in the morning and afternoons, and our additional stable duties and chores were done while the other group rode. These chores consisted of cleaning and scrubbing the barn, pulling manes and tails, polishing brass, working around the house, and many others I don’t recall. I generally polished brass. Betty Howett and Collette Stevens were in charge in 1962 (and the following year). Collette and Val, an about-to-be graduated BHS instructor, did most of the cross country and jumping instruction. Betty generally helped us with dressage. Betty and Collette were both very knowledgeable and capable instructors but were not very personable, particularly to non-English students--who at that time, were Diane, a girl from Canada, and I. They really gave us a terrible time, and, for the first month, alternated the two worst horses between us, a 17 h.h. stiff, old hunter with a mouth of steel and a choppy-gaited,14 h.h. pony aptly named Hoppy. Finally, at the end of the first month, Colonel Crawford came to observe the riders and was very upset to learn that the Canadian girl and I were being treated as we were. He made Betty change our mounts, and from then on, we had a much better selection of horses. Two years later, Betty and Collette “crossed the pond” to run Potomac Horse Center in Maryland where, I guess, they had to learn to be a bit more tolerant of Americans (but I understand they still wouldn’t win any cordiality awards). The riding sessions were two hours of concentrated instruction. Two hours was more than sufficient and often quite exhausting--particularly with all the additional physical work we were required to do. We either rode in the “covered school,” (there was only one indoor arena then) or in the open field with the cross country fences behind the house. We often rode and jumped without stirrups, and down the jumping lane with reins knotted and hands straight out to our sides. Then it was sitting trot . . . sitting trot . . . sitting trot. Saturday mornings were reserved for wonderful rides through the Exmoor countryside, a great treat that I am hoping to relive in September. The surly Welsh couple who kept the house and cooked the meals were reminiscent of Mrs. Corney and Mr. Bumble in Oliver Twist. Ironically, Oliver opened in London while we were at Porlock, and “Food, Glorious Food” became our anthem; however, I must admit the wonderful British institution known as teatime was our salvation. We looked forward to our lovely sweet tea with bread and jam every afternoon at 4:00. I do hope the Brits still keep up this great tradition even in this confusing technological age. Tea plus the shortbread and other snacky food we bought at the Weir caused most of us to put on many unnecessary pounds. The next obstacle Diane and I had to overcome was to prove that those of us from the colonies were no longer at war. The girls were very cold and distant at first, almost to the point of being rude. That first month was really tough, but at the end of our first month, we had our first (and last) party at the beach. Most of the girls got pretty drunk on that notorious Somerset cider. One of the girls, whom we called Auntie because she looked like my roommate‘s pale, old aunt, went into the water and passed out. Everyone thought she was fooling around and just left her lying there. Fortunately, I didn't drink much and pulled her out. She didn't wake up until much later. Most of the girls became violently ill for the rest of the night, and I helped clean up and take care of them. Betty and Collette were furious and ended our partying until we graduated, but the girls accepted Dianel and me from then on. Getting back to the schedule--after breakfast, we all crowded into an upstairs room in the “front” of the house for our stable management and first aid sessions. I emphasize the front of the house because it was nicely furnished as opposed to the very Spartan backside we occupied. We took copious notes, which I recently came across. I guess I didn’t throw them away because they were so hard earned. Tests were given weekly, and we had to know the material verbatim, no short answer, multiple choice, or true/false tests. We studied nightly and still had to cram for the weekly test. We also had to learn to teach according to the BHS horsemanship manual. Each lesson followed a prescribed procedure, and each command was preceded with a “Prepare to . . .” to inform the student what was coming next, and then the command was given such as, “Prepare to trot,” and then “Trot.” Lessons were given in a specific order, not randomly as problems arise the way most instructors teach these days. Each method has its merits and flaws. Our time off was based on which group we were in. I remember alternating a weekend on and a Saturday afternoon and Sunday off, but it’s possible that we alternated Saturday afternoon one week and Sunday the next as Jean Morris mentioned. Anyway, whenever possible, we headed for Minehead. Although it was only about twelve miles away, the bus trip took between a half hour and forty-five minutes winding along the narrow country lanes bordered with huge hedgerows, which made it impossible to see oncoming traffic around the sharp curves. The trips to Minehead were a welcome relief from our daily drudgery. We visited the various shops, our favorite being the fish and chips shop with its sawdust covered floor and pungent odors. We bought mouthwatering fish and chips doused with savory vinegar and wrapped in newspaper. Oh, what a treat! To this day, I have not tasted fish and chips to match those I had in Minehead. Our other main entertainment was the Saturday night dances at the Weir with the local shepherds. They were typical Exmoor farm boys, a bit rough around the edges, but possessed a great sense of humor, and a natural exuberance rarely seen in less rural settings. The dances were totally reminiscent of the socials pictured by James Herriott--only these were in Somerset (pronounced Zomrset) and Herriott’s books were set in Yorkshire. The boys looked forward to the new supply of young horse girls who arrived every three months. Finally, a little about the girls, and, yes, we were all girls except for Jim, the barn manager. Other than Diane and me, all the girls were English. They came from various parts of the country. Both my roommates, Linda Barker and Romaine were from Yorkshire and were outgoing, mischievous, and, like me, loved fast horses and big jumps. We got along great--after that awful first month. Anne, the girl we nicknamed Auntie, on the other hand, was nervous, shy, and a timid rider. We all, more or less, looked after her, and she seemed to thrive on the attention. Diane was gutsy but not as experienced a rider as most of us. She tried to do more than she was able and had several nasty spills. Fortunately, she wasn’t badly hurt, mainly just bumps and bruises. During the second week, we had an equitator join our group. She originally came just to ride and have her brother’s pony, Pip, schooled. She became bored with her schedule and decided to get her horsemaster’s certificate. She was great fun and also had wheels, which meant we could go to Minehead with her if we were not on duty. We also had one of the former working students (who spend nine months working off their tuition before they can take the horsemaster‘s course) start with us. Within a few weeks, she became quite ill and dizzy. This continued for several weeks, and it turned out she was pregnant and had to leave. It seemed a shame since she had worked so hard all those months. Anyway, she had been seeing one of the shepherd boys from the Weir. I heard that they were married several months later. If cleanliness is supposed to be next to godliness, none of us would have made it to heaven. We kept the horses and the barn immaculate, but the same was not true about our personal hygiene. We only bathed once a week (which wasn’t unusual for most Europeans back then), but considering how filthy we were after being at the barn all day, once a week was not enough. I believe our bath time was Saturday evening right after supper. I generally made a beeline for the tub before supper was over because there was only enough warm water for the first bath. This was probably the only time in my entire life I was consistently first for anything because all who followed used the same bath water only adding fresh water as was absolutely necessary to keep from taking a freezing cold bath. Romaine solved the problem by not bathing the entire time we were there. She said her mother told her too much bathing caused a person to become ill. She certainly took her mother literally. However, she did wash her hair twice and sponged off occasionally. Our “free time” in the evening was generally spent studying or getting ready for the next day’s work. I think most of our laundry was taken care of--I can’t remember having to do laundry, but for some reason we washed our own jeans in the small sink in our room. We had no hot water during the week, so we washed them by hand in cold water. We were expected to have perfectly polished boots to ride in every day. I hated polishing boots, and Romaine hated washing jeans, so we traded off. Romaine polished my boots, and I washed her jeans. Exam week was extremely hectic. We were tested on all facets of what we learned. My strong areas were the written exam and jumping, but I would panic at giving a lesson and/or doing a dressage test. Fortunately, everything balanced out and I made it through, and so did all the others who lasted to the end. We were really proud of what we learned and the fact that we endured the ordeal. Good-byes were pretty hard knowing I would probably never see most of these new friends and co-sufferers again; however, Diane and I went home with Romaine for a few days and got to see and ride in Yorkshire. I corresponded with several of the girls for a while, but we eventually lost contact. It’s been forty-four years since I was at Porlock, but the memories, good and bad, are still quite vivid. If all goes as planned, I will “cross the pond” in September and stay at the old house and maybe even ride up Porlock Hill. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Top of Page * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * From: Gail Huhtamaki (ghuhtama@maine.rr.com) Dear Jean Morris: I found your nostalgic piece on Porlock Vale Riding School while surfing the internet this evening. It brought back many fond memories of my own stay there in the summer of 1969. I think the food was better when I was there, although I do remember finding dead flies in the bottom of a bowl of canned fruit on an occasion or two. I remember the strict dress code, although I don't recall the polka dot headscarves. I do remember our hack outs and the trips to the farrier and on one particular morning I remember going by a butcher shop and seeing the butcher with a cigarette in his mouth and a fly swatter in one hand, using it to kill flies on the side of beef. I wish I'd taken more pictures and kept in touch with the international cast of characters I shared my time with. Colonel Jamie Crawford was a commanding presence, but we all enjoyed his instruction immensely. I took care of a horse called Aer Lingus - he was a gray, and I can remember my hands being cold and raw from scrubbing the muck off his hocks...he was a filthy, ill-tempered horse in the stall, but wonderful to ride. I remember one day when I rode the Colonel favorite mount "Sailor". The Colonel urged me on as I took several jumps on a downhill slope at a gallop - totally out of control. He never could get my Finnish name right and I can still hear him yelling out , "Jolly good Hootenany, but try it a little faster next time!" To an idealistic American 17-year old it was an amazing experience. I'll always remember the moors of Somerset. It was a magical, wonderful time. Thanks for the memories! Gaill
Huhtamaki * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Top of Page * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * From: Carol
Barber (buckshoal@pure.net) I remember the breakfasts at Porlockford House to be fabulous. Starting with cold cereal, then toast, butter and jam, then on to the enormous pot of "mush" glopped onto your bowl with a huge lattle. All this was followed by eggs, bacon and good grief... by then I wanted nothing more to eat. At winter's end I could have passed for a Soviet weight lifter. My group were mostly Americans (me being the only southerner). I got pretty tired of "come on now, say ya'll for us". My room mates were Bev Versteeg from California and Lisa Singer from Maryland. I have had my share of accomplishments in the horse show world but they are petite compared to Lisa's on-going successes. I haven't seen her in some years now and had completely lost track of Bev immediately after school. Gail, my horse was Joker and Lisa's was Forest. They were in the same barn as yours. I remember him well. This is so cool.... I just got the Peck book about Porlock Riding School. It is such a trip down memory lane. Super pictures too, although the time period is a bit before me. Are any of you guys still into horses?? If so, how so? Feel free to contact me, Carol Barber * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Top of Page * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
From: Eileen Moran oldducky92@yahoo.com I was looking up some horse info and I couldn't believe what I found. I attended PVEC Sept.-Dec. 1973. I also saw "The Horsemasters" when I was a child. It took me forever to save the money. I was a groom most of my teen years. I didn't pass my AI exams and I never got enough $ together to return. I should have been more foused on my studies but I was 20 years old and in love with my future husband who was back in Massachusetts. Yvonne wanted me to stay as a working student for a year so I would have more time to improve my riding, but I wanted to go home. I regret I was not nicer to my classmates as they were a great bunch. I always wondered where they went as we lost touch. I learned a lot at PVEC! ...I saved a lot of money of vet bills over the years. I contacted the BHS to see if I could get a video of the special BBC filmed of the school that autumn. They need to know the date it aired to locate the archive. I always wondered what happened to Yvonne Nelson, the Colonel, Josephine Batty-Smith, and our Assistant Instructors Carol and Julie. My younger sister is visiting Great Britain for the first time this weekend and she called today.. Brought back memories of Yorkshire Pudding (wasn't the cook named Ethel?) and trifle, cornish pasties, and the baps we purchased when we had to hack to the farriers. I wish I could do it again with the common sense and focus I have attained through my travels and adventures. I moved from my home in Massachusetts, to Tucson AZ, to Oregon for college, back to AZ, and I plan to move back to Massachusetts next spring. My Dad is ill and it's time to go home. Oh, the (ex) husband? I came home to find out he was having an affair with my best friend... I married him in spite of it, divorced in '78....Should have stayed on as a working student... I also play guitar and I got to sing at a pub on my evenings off. My love to all! Eileen Semenuk Moran * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Top of Page * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * |