A pile-driving red and blue barber's pole.  That's what we were today attempting to ride figure 8s.  Yes, he was brilliant at turning when we were turning *toward* his buddies in a neighbouring paddock.  Much less so turning away however, somewhat like trying to turn an 18 wheeler with a dose of good intentions and little else.  I stepped in that inner stirrup as if my life depended upon it and still he drifted wide and away.  Or, conversely, going toward his friends, he'd step in so tight as to almost step on the drum.  Oh well.  We kept practicing interspersed with trot breaks around the arena.  Stopped when he did a pretty nice imitation of a horse that could be ridden bridleless.  Of course he was only humouring me and it took several twisting asanas during yoga work later in the morning to unkink what had been kunked.