I spent today mainly getting soaked to the skin. I’d volunteered to help at the local riding club show (cue an opportunity for much hilarity about keeping ‘l’anglaise’ away from the ‘buvette’ - after all, we all know about ‘la fameux cuisine anglaise’. Given that the haut-cuisine on offer was Top Budget chips and the ubiquitous ham baguette, I smirked inwardly and got on with the task in hand.
This was course building in the pouring rain. And this was south west France rain. The type that is akin to someone pouring bucket after bucket of water over your head. And then turning a water canon on. And firing it at you.
I’d taken the Not So Small Son with me as an extra pair of hands. He had a great time but then, he is practically a fish and never happier than when he is underwater, so I suppose he felt at home. It also helped that he buggered off with his mates to eat chips during the worst of the downpour, leaving his mother alone in a very soggy sand arena to discover that her boots leaked.
At this point I remembered that I had an umbrella in the car and as I’d finished fence building and was looking forward to my ham sarnie and chips, I decided to make the trek back to the car to retrieve it. I might as well have not bothered. I got even wetter walking to the car and had had my umbrella up for all of about five minutes, when a huge gust of wind wrenched it almost out of my hand, breaking most of the spokes. New umbrella was deposited in the nearest wheelie bin and I resigned myself to wringing out my clothes when I got home.
When I’d eventually got home, got dry, dumped everything in the washing machine and then put on my ‘doing the horse in the rain’ outfit (think fishing waders meet bio-hazard - I’m nothing if not stylish, but at least it keeps me dry), it struck me, and not for the first time, that horse owners are actually, completely and utterly barking mad.
And with that dear reader, I’m off for a restorative Bank Holiday weekend glass of wine. Cheers!
I hope you are feeling dry and snug now. Debbie x