Saturday night in the house of big fun (again)

This evening it’s just me, the laptop, that last, lonely, slice of pizza and Love Actually.

It’s been a busy day:

* Drop Soph off at the train station
* Drive to Inkberrow Show to read two dressage tests (ah, the special hazards of small equestrian shows. Kiddies on ponies riding up and down the 5m corridor between two dressage rings. An out of control, warming-up competitor who circled their horse between the dressage judge and the arena – thereby obstructing the poor judge’s view of what was going on in the arena!)
* Drive to the yard, drag Vin out of his field, groom him, throw him in the back of the lorry, throw the tack in
* Drive to Allenshill to do a few show jumping classes
* Get Vin out, rub the brush over him, start to tack up
* Stop tacking him up
* Put him back in the lorry with a haynet
* (the exact reason for this strange behaviour can be found in Episode 20 of the podcast)
* Get a cup of tea and consolation food from the food guy then sit and eat/drink
* Drive back to the yard
* Unload Vin, tack up
* Take him for a gallop in the big field then
* Go in to the arena and school on the flat
* Then work over two fences
* Dismount, untack, groom and put him back out
* Spend a while nattering with the girls
* Drive home
* Set up equipment and do podcast prep
* Record podcast
* Order pizza
* Consume above

And now, as previously mentioned, the food.

And a drink.

And the film.

Fuck you Richard Curtiss.

No-one should be allowed to write as well as he does.

Bastard.

This evening’s podcast sounds very different. Perhaps I should move my recording slot to later in the day instead of the mornings?

Soph has just sent me a text describing Cardiff on a a Saturday night as a Zoo.

Does that mean she’s found a dromedary wandering down the precinct?

B.