Brennig Jones (and friends)

Provided I don’t screw it up (as I did at Stafford by starting the show jumping before the bloody bell went!) I have our times for this Sunday at Berrington Hall:

Well, it isn’t an early start – for which I’m very grateful to the entries secretary; back to the yard for about 20.30 I should imagine.

B.

Note to regulars: sorry about the advert!

Horsebox for sale.

I’m never going to own more than one competing horse again so my lovely, large horsebox could do with downsizing.

What it is:
* A big lorry!
* Ford Cargo 1015 (downgraded to 7.5T for non-HGV purposes)
* Tilt cab
* Cut-through to living
* Comfortable living, good cupboard space
* Large, walk-in tack locker, three saddle racks, two bridle hooks
* Rubber floor in horse area
* Stalled for 4 horses
* Drives like an absolute dream
* Fitted with battery isolation switch to disconnect the tacho when not in use

What it isn’t:
* A ‘ladies box’. The ramp is heavy, but easy. I do it by myself every day. The partitions swing easily open and shut but if you’re parked on unlevel ground then putting the securing pins in can take effort
* Factory fresh. It’s a ‘D’ reg lorry. If you want factory fresh go and buy new
* Leaking! It doesn’t leak air, water, oil or any other fluid. And no, water does not leak through the cab cut either.
* Poorly maintained
* A bad starter

Because I’m realistic and I know the lorry’s good and less good points I’ve set a very realistic selling price.

£4,950

The lorry can be viewed at and test-driven from its secure parking near Droitwich, Worcestershire.

Taxed, tested, on the road and in full use – national mileage – almost every weekend.

Photographs available on request, but here’s one I found on my mobile phone.

B.

Gargoyle’s thoughts on condoms and marketing slogans…

B.

Don’t ask me why but iTunes subscribers have had a glitch or two this week.

Ep21 has downloaded two or three times and Ep22 didn’t – for some – come down the feed.

[shrug]

I don’t know why.

None of the other RSS aggregators seem to have experienced the same problem, however, let’s not dwell on it.

If Ep22 didn’t come to you there’s a simple fix.

Go in to iTunes, select the podcast, unsubscribe and then hit the subscribe button.

Voila!

So far this week there have been 24,321 downloads which is staggering. But what’s really interesting is the range of locations where it is being downloaded to.

The last half-dozen include Selbyville, Delaware; Lakeland, Florida; Medelin, Colombia; Arlington, Virgina; Flushing, New York and Merida, Venezuela.

Those are just within the last [checks watch] 30 minutes – since 07.00.

Bonkers!

But thanks for your support.

I’ll think of you whenever I wear it.

Hmm… Maybe it was the DonkeyPu skin-care product that got everyone going… 

B.

I got in half an hour ago.

Almost didn’t need the key, wasn’t far off having to pour myself in through the letter box. Or trickled in through the gap beneath the door.

The tube from Victoria was packed, the temperature inside our speeding sardine tin was well in to the mid-30s.

Centigrade, natch.

The air outside, in Brixton, was not that much cooler; the total absence of wind movement emphasised how warm it was.

As soon as I was inside the front door I began peeling off my sodden shirt, trousers, socks, underwear; straight in to the shower.

A cold shower.

When I emerged I noticed that, unusually, I didn’t have the house to myself; picked up my discarded clothing and beat a hasty retreat to my room where I almost but not quite dried myself – preferring to let the residual moisture cool on my skin – sipped 7-Up and finished the crispy dregs of a tube of Pringles.

I should go downstairs, prepare, cook and eat but I think my motivation is still in the shower. Or perhaps that’s Teresa.

I’ve opened every window on the upper levels and the double doors in to the garden, but there’s still no breeze at all; sleep, this evening, might be uncomfortable – when it comes.

Even the aggressive beggars who usually congregate by The Roxy cinema couldn’t be arsed to bother me this evening.

When I’ve eaten it’ll be straight to bed with a good book – or failing that ‘Yes Man’ by Danny Wallace. And The Lovely Soph will take that as a slight because she enjoyed it but that’s what makes us individuals – I’m not. She did. But I shall finish it. In this world or the next.

I’d do a proper review of Mr Wallace’s oevre but I’m months behind in my ‘proper’ reviewing and if I don’t do Sam Manicom’s pretty bloody quickly he’s going to devise some fiendishly cunning punishment.

The funniest person I know – Daughter – says it’s even hotter where she lives; got up to 41 degrees today, apparently. But they don’t notice the heat as much because at that altitude they have a constant breeze (even if it is blowing in from The Sahara Desert).

The village is well in to its New Year celebrations; she was interviewed by TVE this morning. I hope they use the clip – the newsworthiness of an English girl who looks totally Spanish and speaks better (and faster!) Castillano than anyone else of her age in the village is undeniable – but if they don’t she’ll be devastated.

She hates me; told me so this evening. Said that every time we speak on the phone she laughs so much she gets the hiccups.

So that’s my fault? That she gets hiccups? Huh!

But she does laugh a lot and for that I’m grateful because it means she’s not turning in to a miserable hag like her mother.

Three and a half months is, it seems to me, a little excessive for a school holiday. No?

Ah well.

I’d rabbit on a bit more but the pangs of hunger have their teeth in to me (oh, what a punner!) and I can’t put off a visit to the kitchen any longer.

Laterz dudez.

B.

Mowing the lawn is going to be difficult. I can’t get in to the garden shed to get the mower out. The lock has rusted so I’ll stop at a DIY place and get some penetrating oil on the way to the yard.

But I have backed up three servers, virus scanned two hard disks and and two EDDs.

And produced a podcast.

And read a tech paper.

And done emaily things – one was saying a ‘thank you’ to an artist who was in turn saying ‘thank you’ for the spin on today’s podcast. How quick are they?

Time for a quick cup of tea now and then off to the yard to force carrots down Vin’s throat and then sort out rugs for cleaning/repairing/weatherproofing in preparation for Winter.

We’ve had confirmation that Vin and I are ‘in’ at Berrington Hall One Day Event a week tomorrow (3rd August).

But there’s a fly in the ointment.

I’m injured, and riding is difficult. Difficult to the point where even fully-dosed on painkillers I’m still not right, and taking Vin to Berrington Hall would not be fair on him if I’m less than 100%.

Obviously if I’m right for next weekend then it’s no problem, but if I am not right… Problem.

Ho hum.

B.

Said small tabby cat who doesn’t live here, as she jumped up on to my bed and nuzzled my ear.

Koff, I replied as I pushed her back to the floor. Do you have any idea what time it is? It’s three o’clock. Three o’ bloody clock. I told you I was letting you stay in on the understanding that you behaved yourself. No secret drinking, no sneaking friends in and no disturbing my fragile sleeping pattern.

She jumped back on to the bed and nuzzled my ear again.

Bastard things, cats.

They worm their way in to your affections; start off on nodding terms but before you know they’ve attached themselves to your life like soft cuddly little limpets.

Tabby-coloured limpets.

So I opened my (first floor) bedroom window and threw her out.

Well no, of course I didn’t.

I gave her a stern glare and tried to sleep.

Both failed.

Bastards.

B.

Or hackers as they like to be known.

I have spent part of today wondering if I caught the little bastards before they installed a trojan script (a device to open a backdoor on to the server) in any of my database files.

Bearing in mind how cack-handed they were in trying to hack the .php access it’s entirely likely that I caught them before they had their hand up my dress and down my knickers.

To use a metaphor.

But if they did…

Well, if they did I’ll have to ditch the rather lovely theme and go for something less striking.

Ah well, at least thinking about this little issue helped stop me from falling asleep on the tube this evening.

B.

To the total ringpiece that tried (and failed) to hack the podcast website.

Tough shit.

It took me a massive 14 minutes to repair the damage you did trying to hack my config.php file.

Another 20 minutes deleting and reinstalling the database.

Three minutes reinstalling podpress.

Three minutes reinstalling the theme.

Four minutes reconfiguring the widgets.

And that’s it.

Oh yeah – and less than 20 seconds to reinstate the RSS feeds.

So…

Forty four minutes to repair (including reinstate to ‘as was’) the damage you did fucking around trying to own the database.

Did you think the source files were unprotected?

Daft bastard.

Your mistake?

Missing my utility tracker which captured your IP range – file has been sent to your ISP and your local police force, you malicious snot-nosed fuckhead.

Anyway folks, This Reality Podcast website is back up and running.

The recovered text and duplicate source files to Episodes 20 and 21 will be relaunched Friday/Saturday – because I’m in London and my backup audio files are on EDDs at home.

Episode 22 will also be out this weekend.

If Eps20 and 21 come down our RSS pipes again I’m really sorry. I’ve been thinking about it and there is a risk that might happen but I don’t know how to mitigate against it.

B.

Saturday evening already.

Tsk.

I’m off to bed – that doesn’t make me a lightweight at 21.30, it means I have to be up at 04.30 because I need to leave the yard by 06.00 with Vin in the lorry and everything neatly packed for a one day event at Stafford.

We drove up and walked the track this afternoon, it looks absolutely brilliant.

Apart from two changes of rein the show jumping is very well set out. The cross country looks just a little short of absolutely bloody perfect.

Let’s hope Vin and I remember to ride as we rode for Mandy last Sunday!

Before we drove up I took the lorry down to the filling station and tanked up ready for the trip to Stafford and back.

On the way back to the yard I got involved in a head-on collision – I wasn’t involved in the crash, it happened just in front of me. But there’s a story to be told there.

Perhaps I’ll blog it during the week, perhaps I’ll mention it on the podcast.

And on that front, the podcast will be late I’m afraid. There aren’t enough hours in the day today.

Back at the yard I schooled Vin and then cleaned tack and then picked up Soph and drove to Stafford.

Bit of a trip but as I’ve mentioned we have to leave the yard at 06.00 tomorrow just to be there in time to check in and start warming up for our dressage.

If I wanted to walk the course tomorrow we’d have to leave around 05.40 – and that’s just stupid.

Hence the trip to Stafford today.

Love the cross country fences!

They’re up to maximum height but properly designed, seriously well built and they look an absolute joy to jump.

The going is just slightly on the firm side of soft which, for Vin, is again close to absolute perfection.

We stopped for a meal on the way back and once home I showered, got things ready for the morning and we ahem, spent a couple of hours enjoying each others company.

And now it’s bedtime – because of that bloody early start.

Normal internet service will be resumed tomorrow afternoon, once we’re all back from Stafford Horse Trials, safe and sound.

B.