Accompanying five attractive young ladies to the London International Horse Show at Olympia is just one of those, you know, ‘it’s a dirty job but someone’s got to do it’, kind of things.
So yesterday I took my bravery pills, drove to Oxford, jumped on a train and headed in to that London, to do that thing.
We had a giggle.
There was the inevitable amount of piss-taking (Clare and Tor taking the piss out of me, obv), and laughs and oohs and aahs and gossip (so much gossip!) and champagne.
We also got to watch some very talented ponies (horses) jump staggering heights (said someone who starts to get nervy above 1.25m).
And it was fun to meet up with a bunch of fiends friends and have a chuckle.
The time is now rapidly approaching 2am and I should be asleep but my head is still winding down.
So I’ll pootle about on the internet for a while.
And then fall asle……
Five young ladies, you say?
OK, you’ve finally talked me round.
Where can I get me a horse?
Did you not read about the terrible sarcasm I have to endure? No. I couldn’t do this to you. You’re too much of a good friend. I’ll just have to saddle up and keep taking it like a man, on your behalf.