Thursday, January 14, 2010

Smithfield Horse Market

One man with his mut and mare

Now here's a time when I wish I was a morning person. The Smithfield Horse Market is on at the crack of dawn the first Sunday of every month. I managed to horse myself out of bed one such Sunday and went down with my sister Julie to take some photos.

My God, there's nowhere else you'd find such a proliferation of patterny jumpers and wild children on miniature ponies. We had to mind out for galloping young bucks with their shell tracksuits caught taut in the wind like the sail of a boat.

geansaí nollag den scoth

We had great chats with some of the people there. One Roscommon farmer was selling a miniature pony called Paddy. Most of the roll of film went on Paddy's dusty blond forelocks and pink bridle. We were told that the farmer's grandson once managed to fit Paddy into his wardrobe!

This is not Paddy. Paddy's about 15 hands smaller than this beast

Turns out though that when I went to get the photos developed, the wind on in the camera hadn't worked at all. So all I got back was smooth brown negatives and a dejected feeling in the pit of my stomach. I made this drawing from the pithy pits of disappointment. There's nothing else more satisfying that that.



  1. oh NOOOOO!!!!!! lame!!! stupid camera. I would like to see a drawing of Paddy in the wardrobe!!! Challenge extended!

  2. I feel like you just slapped me across the cheek with your kid glove and I'm smarting from the sting of it. Challenge accepted!! Expect Paddy in pine very shortly...

  3. Ah, the pithy pits of disappointment are no place for a gal like you, Maeve Bates!