He hates it when I watch horses on the TV. I can't do it quietly you see. There are shouts, squeals, tears, oooooohs and ahhhhhhhs at the enormous fences they jump. And he's not that keen on my running commentary all the way through.
What a good job he was away last night so that I could go to bed at 8pm and watch hours and hours of Badminton Horse Trials on the iplayer. A thrilling and iconic competition which made me miss Fletch terribly. I hardly slept for dreaming about attacking the Vicarage Vee or the impressive lake complex. My body was full of adrenaline and excitement for believing that one day I would do it again.
My time with horses is not over. I have just had a little break.
This is only the beginning.
Ride on, Saarah. I had an aunt who was just as obsessed as you. She taught me to ride, making me dismount to pick up bits of old sugar carton placed between my knees and the saddle when I let them drop. My dad taught me about Absalom, who died because he was unseated when his hair caught in a low branch. We were a cheery family!!
ReplyDeleteAh yes it is bordering on obsession! What am I talking about bordering on?...its a downright addicted obsession! Looking forward to seeing how the ponies fit into our new Mediterranean life. Thanks for commenting!
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