Infamy

7th November Tor Bay, Gower, Wales

I’m an odd combination of skinny and lumpy. I’ve always had ridiculously skinny calves and over the last five years I have sustained two hefty kicks and a bad fall from a horse which has left some dents in my thighs. Further to this, I put on over a stone last winter after eating my own bodyweight in dead pigs bum. The bacon fat and sausage meat went straight to my fat ass and thighs and settled there along with the dark chocolate ginger biscuits. My body must be anticipating starvation in older age as at 64 it is extremely reluctant to let this extra and unwanted timber go… if only gravity could get it to settle down by my ankles and skinny calves. I have almost lost the stone now but there’s still far to go in getting some shape back…. or, I could just say ‘fuck it’ I’m reasonably healthy, still alive, and it’s not too late to get treatment for chronic vanity 🤣🤣

I’m just getting used to the idea of going in the sea in November. I have some doubts about my sanity. I’m not quite sure why as I used to water ski on the river Trent on Boxing day – I was about 18 then tho. Also, I did a stint as a lifeguard on Langold lake, north Notts., at around about the same time. Also, I got dunked in the sea one February, a couple of years ago, by Frank when he tripped over his own legs at Oxwich. The sea did not feel cold at all then but when you’ve got half a ton of horse thrashing around you and you think you might die, then being cold is the last thing on your mind. Wonderful thing adrenaline- it takes all the pain (and cold) away in situations like that. Still….it does feel a bit weird to be walking into the sea when everyone else on the beach is wearing hats and scarves….
Also, I’m aware of my age…I’m 64…I’ve got high blood pressure…. I know I’m a risk taker so I can’t always trust my own judgement- I think I’ve been very lucky so far. .. I had a good swim yesterday…. I would have stayed in longer maybe if someone had been swimming with me. The only bit that felt cold was my shoulders …. I didn’t feel cold anywhere else. Getting out…getting dressed… Well I’ve felt MUCH colder on the beach at Skeggy as a kid… I felt great after. I think I’m probably much more likely to kark it walking up that long steep path from the beach to the cliff tops, where the car was parked. My little charity shop ruck sack full of wet cozzie, neoprene long sleeve top,gloves , socks, sea shoes and damp towel… my huge fluffy dry robe which was so welcome on the beach is now a bag I am boiling in… Eeeeesh! Once home its a tin of soup, cheese on toast, and a drink of kefir. Bed and instant sleep.

Inbetween the first and second wave of Corona virus (July- September 2020) something extraordinary happened in the world of only Joolz and horses. This is the story

Hey joolz, how exciting…. What? Y’know, you having a part in Kevin Allen’s new film. Oh really? What’s that then, what part? Oh c’mon… y’know… you and Frank… lady Godiva. What? Wait a minute,  who told you that? I dunno, but that’s the word on the street.  Apart from a casual chat with Kevins side kick, Ray Roughler Jones, in lockdown about the possibility of me getting my tatters out for the film, I hadn’t spoken to the director about this so it was no more than rumour.  It’s not that I hadn’t  given it some thought, after all, I’d experienced a brief spell of burlesque just a few years ago so I wasn’t new to public nakedness but that had been some time ago now and the exhibitionist in me had since transferred to daredevil stunts on horseback. As preparation for filming got underway, and as  cast and crew arrived, I realised that I might regret passing up on a film part.  Although I’d never ridden Frank  bareback I had trusted this horse with my life… could I now trust him with my reputation?

Still apprehensive about going  completely naked I decided that Burlesque would be the go and set about creating an outfit. With the help of two of my most stylish chums and being influenced by a burlesque artist who went by the name of Banbury Cross an outfit was designed two nights before my film shoot was planned. There was a problem here though in that a vital part of my outfit had been left at home and I had paying guests in my house. I had to find a good excuse to get back into my  house to pick up agent provocateur nipple tassels- it would be hard to imagine a more bizarre request… I’m sure the guests concerned are still dining out on that one.

 Frank, being a rare dappled bay roan, is every single shade of mud but as this August was the wettest, muddiest August ever on record I decided to keep him on the concrete by my lorry. Three days of non stop apocalyptic rain meant the film shoot was postponed. This was good as it gave me one extra day to try and do something about my farmers tan and apply another layer of San Tropez to lily white legs and tits…not the easiest of tasks in a lorry with no running water – I would have achieved a much more even look if I had just rolled in the mud. Hours were spent before the film shoot just hanging around, waiting, brushing the horse, plaiting his mane and tail, application of more fake tan, numerous alterations to my outfit, hair and headdress, Jesus Christ I thought, I’d rather be getting ready to ride cross country than this…. what if I slip, what if Frank dumps  me in the mud, what if the headdress gets trashed, what if my nipple tassels fall off…..  the corset was tight, I had to undo it, more faffing around, I hadn’t eaten for two days and suddenly I felt peckish. I picked at last night’s unappetizing cold fishcake and salad thinking for fucks sake lets just get on with this. Just as I started to remove the corset completely there was a loud rap on the lorry door. “Hey Jools, Aaron here, can you be ready now? Kevin wants you to be  naked… just naked” … whaaaaaat!  I nearly choked as I jumped up in a panic, quickly looking around for outfit, headdress, applied more tit tape, got more tit tape stuck to my fingerends, tit tape everywhere except on my nipples. I now felt sick. Fully dressed, nipple tassels in place, I climbed gingerly out of the lorry with Frank’s bridle.  He came over eager to be tacked up and get off the concrete he’d been cooped up on for the past three days. Bridle on, I led Frank to the opening of the electric fence and realised that his best mate Boyd was keen to come too. No Boyd, you have a hole in your sole, you are wearing a poultice, you can’t come with us, you have to keep your trotters out of the mud so get back. Quickly appraising the precariousness of this situation,  I realised I needed help: “arrrrghhh, HELP, someone help me” Jon the box passing by knows a damsel in distress when he hears one. So, Jon, his son Jake and Jake’s, girlfriend Megan, come over to join the mudbath. I’m trying to hang on to two frisky horses and keep nipple tassels in place, struggling with a bag stuffed with tutus, clean boots and  extremely precious and precarious headdress. I’m trying to stay out of the mud, I’m trying to stay serene for my film shoot.  I mean… for fucks sake, how the fuck do I do I this?  Jon the box grabs the electric fence, which is switched on and giving Jon some hefty shocks so he’s jumping up and down and as Jon lets Frank through the gap I scream at him “don’t let the other horse out” just as the other horse squeezes through the gap to escape into the mud, Jon chucks the sparking crackling fence down, I throw Frank’s reins at Megan who looks terrified, and run through the mud after the loose horse, trying desperately to hang on to the nipple tassels but the tit tape holds fast at last.

Eventually, order restored and I’m on board. It’s my safe, secure place. Whatever mayhem is going on around me, whether we are in a collecting ring or waiting to fire out of a starting gate, whenever  I feel afraid, then Frank’s my mane man. His bare back feels warm, I feel surprisingly secure and just relieved to be out of the mud as we walk down  to the film shoot location. The actual shoot was easy as Frank sauntered across the set like the Fonz,  checking out the onlookers with his happy go lucky horse version of ‘hey! how U doin? His swinging relaxed gait had just the right rhythm to twirl the tassels. When we reached the lake we turned for another take and as there was a short incline I put my leg on him. Well, if I did! Frank took that as his queue to squeal and bronc across the set and although I stayed in place the headdress sadly did not and plop and splat it went into the mud. Another couple of takes and it was all over. I slid off and so did the tassels as I landed I gave the reins to laydee Ray and asked if she’d like to  ride Frank back to his field.

I wandered over to have a chat with Richard and ask how he thought it went. He said, I think you need a licence to look like that. Oh I have, I said, a licence to thrill. Boom boom.