Things they didn't teach at vicar-school 1

(thanks to Chris for suggesting this theme for a couple of posts - I'm bored with blog silence but needed a hook to hang things on)

Yes, believe you me I do KNOW that working on one's day off without finding another day in recompense is pretty much a mortal sin...but at times, there's no way round it. This week was busy anyway, and when a funeral came in for a family I know, who really needed the service on a Friday, I was never going to say "No".
After all, I thought, it would give me a bit more time to sort things out for Back to Church Sunday at St Matthew's.
The first indication I had that things might not run entirely to plan was when the administrator from a neighbouring cluster of parishes phoned to ask if I might have any spare priests on Sunday...As it happens, this Sunday is pretty much the first Sunday since I've been here when the answer had to be an unequivocal "No" as my Associate is about to become my former Associate and is thus busy with farewells. I could, and did, pick up a funeral and an interment of ashes for early next week, but that didn't feel like enough, and I was (and am) bothered that there isn't enough give in the system to allow for a few rescue operations at times like these...

Assorted phonecalls, conversations and funerals later I was driving home, through my best-beloved of all woods - when a car approaching flashed its headlights and a slightly startled woman told me "There's a horse loose just around the corner".
There was indeed. A very beautiful chestnut, tacked up, tho wearing his saddle at a rather eccentric angle, BENEATH his body...Oh cripes! That must mean a thrown rider somewhere...
I stopped the car in the middle of the road (that was no other cars could get past and frighten the horse further) and tried to revert to Pony Club Mother mode, this having been a role I assumed every summer for several years, thanks to the combined determination of Hattie Gandhi and the Dufflepud. Catching the horse was a doddle as he was very keen to be rescued by any sensible human.Deciding what to do with him was more challenging as although we were right bestide a field where I thought I had seen him before, the gate of the field boasted a pretty hefty padlock. So, reflecting that there might be an injured rider anywhere, I phoned the police, explained the situation and our whereabouts and then did my best to murmur calming words to a very hot and bothered horse...

About 20 minutes later the rider appeared -shaken, bruised but not severely hurt as far as we could tell, and just hugely relieved that the horse was alright and hadn't caused any awful accidents. Nearly an hour on, the paramedic and police made it - the calm, collected and wonderful guy I'd spoken to when I'd dialled 999 had clearly a rather eccentric grasp of local geography as the location to which he'd directed the car had nothing to do with our conversation, or indeed our whereabouts. Fortunately nobody actually NEEDED medical help...
The poor rider kept on exclaiming excitedly
"I can't BELIEVE that someone who knows about horses should be the person to catch him"...and I was forced to conclude that all those miserable years of watching HG and a horse attempt utterly unreasonable fences, of hauling a trailer I couldn't park all round the Cotswolds, of breaking water in buckets to allow the horses to drink on frosty mornings, had finally proved their value.
I lost 2 hours that I didn't have to spare, and nobody has offered a method by which I can reclaim them...I am horribly aware of all that I have to do for Back to Church Sunday (this week at valley church, to tie in with our patronal), and that I have a wedding, and a long stint in the stocks at Hill Village fete tomorrow - but at least I knew how to catch and calm a horse when the need arose. A small think but my own!
Clearly, this is the week of all weeks for transport, in all its myriad forms, to play up. I expect to have a blister by bedtime...