When we stopped for diesel on the way to Little Downham and I managed to get locked in the loo, I suppose I should have recognized it as a sign of how the day would pan out…….. Fairly desperate, having been on the road for two hours, I saw the sign outside the shop and made a dash for it whilst Marcus filled up and Chris went to pay. Only as I was in mid flow did I hear voices outside and a key rattle in the lock. Despite my embarrassment I had enough voice to say feebly ‘There’s someone in here…’ followed by a slightly louder plea, ‘Please don’t lock me in!’ As I heard the key rattle again. I knew it was a vain request as I saw the lock slide across…they obviously hadn’t heard me. I swore loudly as I tried the handle and realized that I was indeed locked into the airless, soundproof lavatory.
Although I hoped that I would be missed soon enough, being slightly claustrophobic, I immediately began to ensure my own escape. But it was only after several elongated minutes of knuckle bruising banging on the door combined with my repeated, increasingly desperate cries of ‘Help!’ did one of the attendants (who I swear saw me go in) come and let me out. I’m not sure who was laughing the most, the aforementioned attendant or my travelling companions. The latter confessed to denying all knowledge when asked if they were missing someone who might be locked in the smallest room. ‘Sorry.’ They said between fits of laughter, ‘We just thought you must be really nervous!’
That first misadventure was quickly followed the second as I managed to upset my freshly brewed latte which was balanced precariously in the door of the lorry as I climbed hastily back in to the cab. It missed Marcus by millimeters…rather more luck than judgment… not an act of revenge I promise…The third misfortune happened a little later on in the journey as we found ourselves lost for half an hour in the flat Cambridge shire landscape searching for the event… ‘Oh well’ we agreed as we finally reached our destination, ‘That’s three things. Hopefully now rest of the day should be okay…’
The whole occasion felt rather unreal. The incessant rain over the preceding few days had capped my nerves - I had convinced myself it would probably be cancelled. Subsequently I was feeling uncharacteristically rational. On arrival the small number of lorries parked in the muddy field were shrouded in a heavy mist, giving the event a rather surreal atmosphere. It felt strangely more like a pony club rally than my first advanced! This low key feeling diffused my anxiety even further – a good thing as Bow and I hadn’t been jumping very well at home the previous week and I was quite prepared for the mud to exacerbate the situation. I was feeling quite pragmatic; I was going to ride him as well as I could and if we too many show jumps down then I wouldn’t beat myself up. The calm approach worked as following a fairly good dressage test he rose to the occasion and tried his hardest around the up-to-height track to get out of the mud for a respectable 8 faults.But my bubble soon burst. Our day really wasn’t meant to go to plan…jumping off to make a fuss of Bow I soon noticed that he had a nose bleed…only a trickle but enough to warn me all he was not right. Sadly I decided not to run him x-country. Years of plans going awry have made me realise that sometimes things just aren't meant to be, but try explaining that to a horse - he made some very grumpy faces at me as I un-tacked him. I’m not sure who was more cross about being sent home early from the party, me or him.
The disappointment I felt at not being able to complete our first advanced was counterbalanced when the next day his blood results showed that he was definitely under par….an early holiday for him and a lesson for me…it’s no good dwelling upon what could have been. When it’s not your day, there’s no point wishing it was. But I’ve saved him for another time, when hopefully we'll have our moment…
