I finally found the boots in the attic, all covered with a white damp mould and stiff with disuse. A wipe and a soak with some leather dressing has seemingly done the trick and I can just about squeeze my calves into their hard black uppers. The jacket still fits and is even a little roomy - my bust having decreased considerably with children and age. And today I went to the tack shop and revelled in purchasing some cream jodhpurs, a white stock and some cream gloves. I think I look the part, my children think it's hilarious.
"You've gone back in time Mummy! You look like a little girl!" squealed A when she saw me.
She's right though, I haven't worn smart riding gear for nearly 25 years and this weekend I have been asked if I would like to do a dressage competition. I can't tell you how nervous and excited I am. I feel childish and giggly, it means I get to groom a horse until he shines, plait his mane into neat little balls showing off his chestnut neck, wipe his nose, clean his socks and then dress myself up in a costume traditional and faintly ridiculous. In fact the whole thing is faintly ridiculous.
And I can't bloody wait!