17.32
On the couch.
Laptop on my, erm, lap.
Television trying to tell me about the book awards.
I’m resisting the information.
I’m wearing my bathrobe.
Freshly showered (me, not my bathrobe).
Vin is out in his field with his buddies.
Freshly, thoroughly groomed (Vin, not his buddies).
Knackered (both of us).
But I’m thrilled and chuffed and, when I turned him out, he looked very jaunty; knew he’d done well.
What’s been going on?
This afternoon we (Vin and I, natch) were supposed to attend a Mandy Kent show jumping clinic at Lincomb, Worcestershire.
Nah, didn’t happen.
We went, we rode for Mandy, she praised, nagged, suggested and (slightly more forthrightly) told off.
But it wasn’t a clinic – it can’t be a clinic if one is the only one present.
So what we had was 45 minutes of one-on-one training with a top show jumper.
That’s why the knackered word was used.
But today I learned, Vin learned and we progressed our partnership to new levels.
We have another clinic with Mandy in two weeks.
I desperately hope there’s someone else in the group.
I’m not sure I’m up to another session as concentrated as that!
But the ‘high’ afterwards?
Worth it in spades.
Once Vin had been taken care of, the lorry mucked out, tidied up and put away, tack wiped down and put away I rang The Lovely Soph.
And arranged to meet at The Little Chef.
Where the All Day Vegetarian Breakfast and half a gallon of diet coke saw to the inner man.
This evening promises one of the many films we have saved.
I’m so knackered.
🙂
B.