Originally published by The Clifton Courier, March 23, 2022

I’m getting a bit of reputation, and I’m not helping myself at all. 

The other day, I had someone around to spray my place for pests. Now, pest controllers have to traipse around the whole house to make sure they get all the bugs. They need to give the entire place a proper lookover. They have to go through every room. They open every cupboard and every drawer.

So there’s not much they don’t see. 

I reckon most of them would have a few top tier tales about what they’ve seen on the job. 

As this particular pest controller was finishing up, he asked me if I was from the country, because he noticed my boots at the door, my hat hanging on the stair railing and, of course, he made reference to the multiple horse decorations I have about the place. 

Thankfully the hat and boots gave a little context so he assumed I was just a bit country (although if he looked closely at the un-scuffed boots and practically pristine hat, he’d have probably have assumed I was closer to a concrete cowboy than an actual bushie) rather than being a Horse Girl. 

Not that there’s anything wrong with being a Horse Girl – as someone with both summer and winter horsey pyjama bottoms, I encourage leaning right in to your inner Horse Girl. Embrace it. As the original Saddle Club members sang all those years ago: hello world, this is me. 

But I’m wondering exactly how much horse is too much horse. Because yesterday, I was in a second-hand shop and bought myself this magnificent ceramic wall hanging of two custard-coloured horse heads arranged together to make a bit of a heart shape. 

Obviously, I wasn’t going to walk past that. 

It was an essential purchase. 

But when I got it home and tried to work out where to put it, I realised there weren’t many places in my home that didn’t already have something horsey going on. And I live in a little townhouse, so there’s only so far I can space them out. 

Here’s an inventory of my horse décor:

A large framed horse print: This was something I inherited from my grandmother. I can’t tell you how old it is, but as it used to hang in a very prominent spot in Grandma’s house, it features in pretty much every picture I’ve been in with my grandmother since I was a baby – so it’s at least 30 years old. It’s a little faded, but with a majestic horse looking you in the eye as it splashes through a mountain stream, it makes a bold statement. 

A wooden horse statue: This was something I’d inherited from someone else’s grandmother, because they knew I loved a good horse statue. It’s well loved and I can tell it’s seen some good and bad times. So it takes pride of place next to the Irish whiskey I keep on hand in case I want to have wide-ranging late-night D&Ms and feel like garbage the following morning. 

A ceramic horse moneybox: There are no coins in it, but it’s filled with magic and mystery. It’s a white horse, which has a unicorn-like vibe but, come to think of it, it also reminds me of that white horse responsible for Claire’s death in McLeod’s Daughters. It’s next to the TV. 

A vintage vinyl-clad ice bucket with silvery horseshoes and horseheads decals, and stirrups on the side: Again, this serves no practical purpose of containing anything*; it just sits on the top shelf above my kitchen, looking cool.

* Actually, since this column was written, I moved said ice bucket and found it actually contained, would you believe, I plastic horse figurine. It’s now sitting on the bathroom bench for vibe-related reasons. The ice bucket is now on top of the fridge, where it serves as a holder of stubby holders.

A single brown horse salt and/or pepper shaker: A gift from some house guests who know me very well. This sits on the entirely necessary telephone table at the top of the stairs. 

The Tanga Cup Trophy from 2007: I didn’t earn this trophy. I know nothing about the Tanga Cup. I bought this at an op shop and have been using it as a bookshelf ornament for a while. It suggests I’m a magnificent rider, when in truth I’ve only ridden a few times… and on one of those times I broke my wrist. 

That’s a lot of horse gear for a small space. 

Now, this means that, if I’m going to hang my recent acquisition in a horse-free room, it may need to be bathroom or toilet art. 

As I said before, I’m not ashamed of being a Horse Girl, but something about staring into the eyes of a ceramic custard horse while you’re sitting on the toilet seems like it’s a bit much, even for me.

I think I had better make this my last horsey purchase for a while* … until I can afford an actual horse, of course. 

* About a month ago, I bought another aged, greenish horse print with a brown water stain on it. It’s fantastic and only cost me five bucks. It hangs above the spare bed for my guests to enjoy.