Back to reality...

It’s amazing how quickly life can change. Within the last month I’ve become an auntie (to the gorgeous George Henry) made my first ever Christmas cake (thanks to my very good friend Sophie for her help... I think I might find an alternative career as a master baker!) and signed a new contract to go back to school.
Thanks to my amazingly supportive husband, the last year and a half of my life have been extremely self indulgent; a time of equine, literary and domestic bliss. But after 18 months ‘off’ to indulge my habit I couldn’t go on living in denial for ever; it was time to wean myself off daytime television, start earning some real money again and put something back into the pot.
Having explored many avenues, supply teaching seemed like an enjoyable way to earn, whilst still maintaining the flexibility necessary to pursue my competitive ambitions. Great in theory; not so great in practice. Having signed up with two agencies, I sat and waited for the frequent phone calls I was sure to get... and waited...only they didn’t come. Apparently the whole system has changed in secondary schools but the agencies failed to tell me that bit as I spent hours filling in their endless paperwork.
Luckily there was a plan B; having approached several local schools directly for work, my old school contacted me about a maternity cover contract beginning in January. They agreed to let me keep some flexibility (Houghton, Bramham and Blenheim are still pencilled in on the 2012 calendar) So that’s where I’m heading next week, school bag winched down from the attic, pencil case dragged out of temporary retirement and brain cells extracted from the muck heap.
Students be warned, quite a lot has clearly changed in my absence and I may be a little rusty, but I’m definitely keen to get back into the classroom. You might just need to give me a little extra, occasional guidance.
Faithful followers of my blog may find me unusually silent; if I fail to post anything over the next few months it will probably be because I’m buried under a large pile of marking.
Here’s to an even better 2012 for all!

Blenheim.... an ambition achieved but not quite fulfilled...

So did the experience, the one I’d been planning for, dreaming of and longing for all year, actually live up to expectation? Yes and no: the positives - I was extremely pleased to complete with a sound horse; the negatives - I couldn’t help but feel unprepared with a less than perfect build up, I felt the absence of Chris and his horse (one of the unlucky few below me on the list) and nothing went quite to plan. A case of three stars but not quite three ticks....

I confess that watching the wait list became something of an obsession for me in the weeks leading up to the big event....making me as twitchy as a love-struck teenager... I watched but little changed.... a few horses shuffled places at the top.... I convinced myself there was little hope... even with the start of Burghley (where several horses were double entered) the list remained static... I resigned myself to following plan b - an expensive ferry trip to Ireland the following week...

....that was until the Monday of Blenheim week.....stuck at the yard that morning I’d asked Marcus to check the list..... at 10.30 am I received a text telling me I was 2 away from getting in .... unbelievable... I’d gone from having at least 10 in front of me to being within a whisker..... he rang me an hour later, ‘You’re next on the list....’ his words took a while to register... how could the situation have changed so drastically? The impossible suddenly seemed possible and I wasn’t even slightly ready... nothing packed....I made a few lists... a few tentative piles of clothes and waited ... and waited.....nothing that evening....

......9.30am the next morning...still nothing... The bright spark of hope which had kept me awake all night, faded to a pale glimmer as I rationalised that if anyone else was going to pull out then they’d have done it by then.... the secretary’s call came unexpectedly at 11.50 am.... ‘Sorry for the late notice but you’re in...’ Oh my God – is this really happening? Shock stunned me before I switched to auto pilot: feed....hay...rugs....tack...clothes....food (no time to visit the supermarket) ...mental lists of everything I needed to do before departing the next morning reeled through my head..... with help from a valuable friend the lorry was packed by late that afternoon...the same friend texted me prior to my solo departure the next morning... How do you feel? My reply.... Lucky, excited and extremely nervous!

Without a vehicle pass my entrance to Blenheim estate was more a tangle of red tape than a fairy tale.... even in a horse box I had some trouble convincing the security man of my credibility... I had little time to worry how my helpers (arriving at erratically staggered intervals and in less appropriate vehicles) would fare....

Thankfully I had Friday dressage giving me a little time to adjust to the reality of actually being at Blenheim.... riding within the walls of the beautiful estate... walking the awe inspiring xc course... stabled next to eventing legends... I tried to play it all down...telling myself it was just another local event... but somehow there was no denying that it was a pretty big moment in my life: first time at Blenheim and first CCI3*.... realistically it was probably one of the biggest occasions.... second perhaps only to my wedding day....only I’d felt better prepared for that occasion!

Our dressage test was unspectacular: Bow was a little tense in the main arena but didn’t actually make any mistakes. I managed to stay calm and soft but Bow had his mouth open and tongue out throughout; both signs of resistance which the judges commented negatively upon and awarded us a subsequently disappointing mark of 66.7...

Our 1pm xc start time gave me a chance to watch a few horses before I needed to get ready; some fears allayed and some amplified in the process. Thankfully I was unaware of two bad falls at one of my ‘bogey’ fences – huge table to even huger corner – but I still felt numb as I warmed Bow up... unsure as to how he would cope with the relentlessly big fences....successive hills....crowds of people and the longest course we’d ever tackled.... as a result I reverted to cruise control over the first half of the course.... he jumped the first few fences well until we got to fence 7 .... with me not fully in charge Bow did what I’d feared and put in a big jump at the table element giving me little chance to put in the planned curving line and extra stride to the second element.... he took charge, locked on to the corner and took a stride out.... not the plan especially as the corner had a big drop on landing.... he cleared it by a foot evoking a huge cheer from the crowd....

.... it speared me into asserting control ... I knew that we couldn’t afford to take chances like that... he jumped the next few fences well apart from jinking left at an ornately carved element of one fence taking the flag with us.... we jumped back through the water out over the brush to corner and up a steep bank... at the summit a fairly innocuous drop fence... but Bow dropped the bridle and failed to respond to my frantic kicking.....he stopped uncharateristically throwing me onto his withers.....BANG! Somehow my air bag had gone off... but I was still in on-board... damn....... my mistake - if only I’d given him time to draw breath instead of hustling him...

....desperate to continue I had a quick consultation with the fence judge before taking off my number and air jacket... replacing my number and representing at the fence in a more organised fashion... no problem second time...... In fact we had no problem with any other fence, even when he got a bit tired, given time, he sorted himself out........ it was a relief to cross the finish yet any potential elation was marred by disappointment..... although he’d run past skinnies in the past, he’d never stopped before and I knew it was my fault....

Passing the trot up the next morning was a relief – although Bow had seemed fine, having seen quite a few sore horses around had made me even more anxious... but there was little chance to draw breath as having accumulated 55 time faults I was last of the finishers and so first to show jump.... despite having jumped big tracks all season, the course still looked enormous and my nerves (which I’d managed to control all season) affected me again... as I waited to go in one of the pros made one of the very worst statements anyone could have said to me that point in time..... ‘We’re all watching you...’

As I entered the arena I felt a bit like a rabbit must feel when caught in car headlights; frozen, impotent, blank..... I saluted the Duke and began my round... but the nerves clouded my judgement and I became intent on just getting round.... forgetting the processes, the strategies I’d learnt to employ over the season.... and pole after pole clattered to the ground.... I could blame his tiredness but realistically even if that were a factor, I didn’t ride him very well....

So we completed (yaay!) but I can’t quite shake off a sense of disappointment that I didn’t ride him better..... God willing we’ll have the chance to do it all again next season and I’m determined that I’ll do a better job!

A Waiting Game....

And so to Hartpury CIC 3* and our last chance to qualify for Blenheim.... Despite trying desperately to think of it as just another competition, my nerves were amplified in the knowledge that it wasn’t – it was our third and last attempt at a CIC this season. I tried not to feel the pressure but however hard I tried to suppress them, those thoughts lurked surreptitiously within my subconscious.....
Having fallen off at Barbury and then tripped up the step at Aston Advanced we hadn’t had the best of build ups. But both blips served as a wakeup call as I realised that I’d been riding xc in cruise control..... letting rather than making it happen.... that needed to change if we were to go clear at Hartpury!
Walking the course too far in advance is never good for my nerves but this time I had little option if I wanted advice from Chris. I’d heard it was big and walking it confirmed the rumours; a tricky double of corners and the second water complex were my ‘bogey’ fences. Chris advised me to take the long route at the corners which were made more difficult by the undulating ground. I had several sleepless nights as my mind took me around the course on a never ending track of anxiety...
This time I had thankfully been given Saturday dressage (meaning that I competed over two days instead of three) although it did also mean a very long wait between phases - about 5 hours to deal with my nerves, watch and contemplate the potential significance of a bad round. My section were jumping indoors – better than out because he was less likely to become long and flat but worse because the fences looked massive! Bow rose to the occasion and really tried to jump the jumps – the two we had down being due to rider error. The relief was immense but not complete.... it was all down to the xc the following day....
Being scheduled to run at 15.30 created time management issues .... if my nerves had been bad the day before, they were likely to be far, far worse before the final phase. I planned my morning at home to include a few mundane chores to keep my mind occupied before heading off with time to walk the course again and watch a few horses over each fence.
Seeing the fences ridden successfully usually gives me confidence but I hadn’t banked on seeing quite so many people fall off....especially in the water... knowing only too well how that feels by the end of my walk I felt sick...but I knew that I had to hold my nerve and stick to my game plan.
A good warm up was essential: walking Bow down to the start I tried to block any negative thoughts and focus upon how I needed to ride him. He felt keen, alert and responsive. I trotted and cantered him before beginning to jump; keep a good forward, controlled rhythm I reminded myself. Bow seemed to sense the occasion and answered every question I asked of him; all we needed to do was maintain that and we’d be fine.... I patted him firmly on the neck; we were as ready as we could be. We had to wait for a few more horses in front of us but I wouldn’t risk jumping anything else just in case...
The steward signalled to me; our turn. The knot in my stomach tightened as we headed down to the start... ‘Good afternoon Sophie.’ said the starter, ‘just over a minute and a half...’ I nodded, keen to get going and shake off the sickening nerves which I knew would disappear as soon as we left the start box. Seconds later my heart sank as the red light flashed up on the control box accompanied by the warning tone. Another hold; not what I needed. I looked to the starter for information but thankfully he told me little of what was happening out on course. After our round, my supporters who were watching anxiously at the first water complex, told me that the two riders before me had fallen there. Had I known that....?
Several minutes later the green light flashed on again. I picked up the reins agian, hoping I wouldn't transmit my nerves to Bow.‘Okay to go in just over a minute Sophie?’ I nodded, my mouth too dry to reply. ‘Thirty seconds.......10..’ I walked Bow into the white railed start box, ‘9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Go. Good luck!’ Squeezing my heels onto his sides and we were off.... we cleared the first three fences easily before heading onto the embankment where he was a little surprised by the double of skinny hedges. A positive kick gave us a better jump over the next big hedge before the water. A good shot in .... over the cascade and out... surviving that first real question gave us confidence and he jumped boldly (albeit a little high at times) around the rest of the course. We survived a couple of slightly hairy moments – one at the second water where he jumped the first element so high that he fitted an extra stride in before the rail – good job I was riding defensively there! But crucially we’d jumped a clear round. We’d finally done it! We’d qualified for Blenheim... That night I felt a mixture of relief, euphoria and exhaustion as we toasted the day.
Entering our first CCI3* the next day I tried to be rational. I was lucky to get to this stage; entering was one thing but actually getting in was going to be a lottery.
Several agonisingly long, anxious days followed as we waited to learn our fate.... desperate to know but hardly daring to look....19th on the waiting list. I’d anticipated disappointment but any ounce of optimism I’d dared to cling on to was overwhelmed by a sense of defeat.... 19th .... a seemingly impossible position.... I couldn’t wish the 18 horses above us to suffer misfortune but without that happening we surely had little chance of realising our dream....
All I can do now is bite my nails, watch the list and wait......

Barbury.... just not meant to be....

And so to my next attempt at qualification.... Barbury castle... .do you ever get that feeling that some things just aren’t meant to be...? I suppose Barbury was like that for me.... having entered Roger in the novice on Friday, I asked for Friday dressage with Bow.... my request went unheeded.....Roger’s otherwise double clear was marred by 4 faults in the show jumping for an impromptu reverse.... then on the way home on Friday Marcus had to perform an emergency stop at a roundabout and both partition arms snapped off on impact.....
.....Saturday’s drama involved the customarily cool Bow suffering a minor meltdown in the dressage arena - not only did we have the cross-country going on next to our warm up, in the main arena we also had to contend with hunting horns, hounds, loud cheering from the Country Fair – he just wasn’t listening to me and we made several mistakes....
Sunday began relatively smoothly in the show jumping arena but when I got down to the xc start I learnt that there was a hold on course and that three of the first 15 horses had fallen in the water (at least two of which had been taken off in the horse ambulance) A brief rider/ steward meeting followed where we were ‘reassured’ that the falls had been inexperienced rider error and that the water had been checked..... it was our choice to run.
Desperate for my qualification I psyched myself up as they restarted the course ....I told myself Bow would be fine.....but although two more jumped through without problems, another more experienced combination fell and they did then, after another hold and discussion, take the fence out.....thankful I wasn’t going to have to risk injuring Bow in the same way, I shoved any negative thoughts aside as we were counted down (nearly an hour late) and determined to ride positively we set off in a good rhythm, Bow made nothing of the first few fences and I began to relax.
Approaching the owl hole I reminded myself to sit up so that I was prepared for the next combination..... following my own plan I felt my head brush through the fence as we jumped through....losing my hat silk in the process ... really not a good look! We negotiated the next ten fences well and approached the undulating part of the course, the quarry Bow jumped in well surprising himself and me by bouncing down the step....possibly as a result he was a little suspicious of the next drop fence and left a leg... throwing me onto his neck.... he stumbled on landing and despite desperate attempts to stay on ....I was unable to recover..... I landed on my most well padded asset.... anything dented?...only my pride! GRRR...! I swore under my breath as I recovered my composure, unclipped my air jacket and walked dejectedly towards the lorry park...Bow bouncing along beside me wondering why we’d stopped.... It’s taught me a few more things...duck through owl hole fences and shorten my stirrups again.....
And so another failed attempt at qualifying for Blenheim.... I’m forcing myself to be philosophical... at least we’re both okay .... if it’s meant to be and all that.... Afterall if we don’t qualify this year then it will be because we’re not ready! Hartpury is our last chance this year... here’s hoping it’ll be third time lucky....

Chatsworth 2011 ..... a moment of miscommunication...

I’ve already notched up a few ‘first time’ experiences during the course of this milestone year; competing at Chatsworth horse trials in May was another.... our first CCI3* and my first time competing at the spectacularly picturesque venue in Derbyshire.
As ‘first times’ go it went relatively smoothly, but in terms of the grand scheme (Blenheim this Autumn) it didn’t quite meet the necessary criteria. In order for the master plan to succeed, Bow and I need to achieve one qualifying score at Advanced level (completed at Weston Park) and one at a CCI3*.... and having come so close to pulling it off, I confess that the sense of achievement at having completed my first 3* was marred by the disappointment of having collected an avoidable 20 penalties x-country.
We completed a satisfactory dressage test; as always there was room for improvement. My nerves, which don’t usually affect me in the first phase, caused Bow to become a bit tight. As a result we completed an under par performance to score 56.5 – respectable but not our best. Watching the show jumping in the main arena the following morning made me feel sick with nerves; when the pros have several fences down it inevitably makes me feel the sense of occasion even more intensely. Trying desperately to banish any self doubt and put our blip at Withington behind me, I told myself firmly, ‘It was just an anomaly.... he won’t make the same mistake again...’. Bow didn’t warm up very well but we managed to jump our round with only two poles lowered; the relief was immense. Not our best round, but certainly not our worst either.
Saturday night had been a restless experience, I don’t sleep very well in the lorry anyway but with my mind replaying the course on a continuous reel... my worries intensified and fences were magnified... particularly the fourth and fifth – two huge box hedges on a curving line.... A second course walk early that morning helped to put everything back into perspective although being early on, I was unable to watch how it rode.
My renewed confidence was soon challenged by the commentator whilst waiting at the start, ‘...and there has been a fall at the fourth fence causing a hold on course ....and unfortunately we hear of a stop at the fifth for....’ both horses I knew had form at two star level.... I couldn’t help but wonder if Bow, or I for that matter, were up to the challenge..... I supposed I’d know soon enough.... what was it Chris had told me? Something along the lines of ‘...if you reach fence six then you’ll know you’ve got a 3* horse underneath you....’
.... By the time we were flying the fifth I’d left the nerves behind me and began to enjoy our round.... Bow was a bit green at times but seemed more overawed by the crowds than the fences so I stuck to my game plan at the brush corner; situated at the base of a steep bank I knew I needed to have him listening to me so at the top I applied the brakes...only on this occasion Bow responded too literally and broke to a trot.... unclear as to what I wanted... I tried desperately to kick him back into action but with our momentum broken the entire question became ambiguous and we trickled past the fence.....damn! Negotiating the alternative successfully I galvanised myself to put it behind me and we completed the course without further incident..... but that familiar elation on passing the finish eluded me as disappointment quickly overrode any sense of achievement....
Watching others opt for the long route after many problems at the same fence did little to assuage my frustration.... on the long journey home I couldn’t help but beat myself with a battery of ‘if only’ scenarios. But at least I know one thing.... I do have an amazing 3* horse and more importantly, we survived to fight another day... an awful lot to be thankful for in such a game of chance.....

Crashed... not burned....

Sometimes life goes to plan and sometimes, unbelievably, it just doesn’t.... last weekend was one of my favourite occasions on the eventing calendar – Withington Manor – with both horses doing day before dressage, I was all set for a three day equine fest.

Things began well on the Friday afternoon; Roger did a good test and some much needed rain fell onto already well prepared ground. Perfect. I walked the novice track which looked challenging but fair; the water looked like the hardest test with a jump straight into water (my greatest fear – proven unfounded - was that he might over jump and submerge us both!)

Saturday also began well – Roger stayed calm for his show jumping – so although we had two down I was pleased with him. He gave me a fantastic, safe ride cross country...phew... Bow did a good test despite putting in an impromptu flying change. So far so good....or so I thought....

Having put the boys out for a few hours r & r before tea, at approximately 18.30 hrs on that fateful sunny evening, I happily climbed back into my lovely husband’s cherished open top sports car to ‘whiz’ back and put them to bed. We have a close neighbour with a large white van, so it was with great care that I reversed around him (not so easy with v. limited rear vision) Sighing with relief at having navigated that obstacle I accelerated a little.... BANG...CRUNCH .... OMG... SHIT... where had the 4x4 come from (parked in the middle of the road!)?

I tentatively climbed out to survey the damage...greeted by a very angry, leather-trousered lady who shouted at me instantly as I interjected profuse apologies... she clearly thought I’d done it on purpose despite the fact that my car had fared far worse! My silent prayer that my husband would hear the commotion and come out so that a. he could protect me from abuse and b. I wouldn’t actually have to tell him what I’d done...went unanswered...glancing up at the window it was clear that I was on my own.

Worse was to come as I realised that my bumper was actually hooked onto her tow bar....and was grimly informed by scary lady ‘you’ll have to pull yours off...I’m not moving mine!...’ How humiliating is it to have to rev husband’s sports car in order to disentangle it with crash victim? VERY! Thankfully I have the most understanding husband in the world but that didn’t really lessen the feelings of worthlessness.... guilt...stupidity....

So it was with slight trepidation that I headed back to Withington on Sunday morning; I needed to make up for my blunder and give Bow a good prep for our first CIC 3* at Chatsworth. I fended off my nerves by focussing on the process...soft, light, collected forwards.... and not the outcome. He warmed up well; jumping cleanly and confidently.

We cantered into the ring with assurance. The bell rang.... we cleared the first five fences easily, turned to the sixth, a big upright.... a little tight around the corner maybe but on a good stride...or so I thought...Bow clearly thought otherwise as he went to chip another one in, realised there wasn’t room...veered sideways into the wing... demolished the fence with a familiarly loud CRASH...and deposited me feet first, confusedly, next to him.

Oh shit...I’m on the floor, what now? Bow had scraped his chest but seemed ok. Had to think for a moment; was I allowed to get back on? ...Decided yes... but needed a leg up... much to my relief a very generous spectator came to my rescue....had to wait whilst they re-built the offending fence....Bell... ready...deep breath... gave Bow a reassuring slap on the shoulder... approached it confidently and cleared it easily... we completed the course without further error.... in fact without that blip it was a clear round!

What happened? I don’t know...and having watched the video several times over I’m none the wiser...maybe he misread it...lost his focus.... one thing I do know is that I’m not going to dwell on it. Having checked him over thoroughly and pulled myself together, I at least made sure that I gave him a good ride cross country...

Here’s hoping that it was just one of those inexplicable equine anomalies..... and that I don’t repeat my crashing crusade...

So does life really begin at 40?

When I was a twenty-something, 40 seemed positively ancient. If anyone had asked me back then what life could be like beyond the age of 39, I’d probably have mumbled something about anyone who got ‘that old’ being incredibly boring, aged, out of touch.... I can just hear myself saying dismissive things like ‘people over 30 think that making a fashion statement is like buying a new pair of velvet slippers or a paisley dressing gown....so un-cool..’ I just couldn’t imagine being that old. But now that I’ve passed the milestone I honestly wouldn’t turn back time and put myself back in my youthful self.
Whilst a few less wrinkles and a little more flexibility would be good, why would I want to return to that penniless, paranoid, precarious time of life? The decade when I tortured myself through a turbulent love life, struggled with self-critical shame, vacillated over the variety of vocational routes open to me and tolerated a long queue of overly zealous advisors. The fact is, I don’t really feel any different than I did in my twenties apart from having become more my own person; or, as some might argue, more like my mother.
No, I really do think that despite the fact that it can be more difficult to mobilise my overworked body in the mornings, I’m happier now than ever. Having stepped off the teaching treadmill, I am living the dream and loving every minute of it; it has to be said that working outside in the amazing weather we’ve been having recently, certainly makes it feel more like a holiday!
Maybe I am experiencing some kind of mid-life crisis but I’m incredibly lucky to have many things during this stage of flux in my life: a wonderfully supportive, loyal and lovely husband who is letting me live my dream; two amazing horses who I’m living it on; an extremely tolerant trainer who facilitates my equine aspirations; many very understanding and supportive friends (one of whom made me the cake pictured here!).
This critical combination of factors must be working because I’ve already achieved two critical check points within a month of passing the major milestone: the first draft of the ‘book’ is finally complete... all I have to do now is get it published - no problem there then! Bow and I also recently and successfully, completed our first advanced event....taking us one adrenalin fuelled step closer to Blenheim..... Who knows what else I, or as I should say, we, can achieve in my milestone year? At the moment anything seems possible.....

And they’re off....

On what’s already a rollercoaster ride...although Bow’s white cell count had been on the way up I decided to have him re-tested two weeks before our first event; disappointingly it had gone back down again. What to do? The vets advised me to carry on as normal but with our first advanced scheduled quite early on in the season I opted to try something I’d never tried before; the Black Box. A friend recommended a Radionics practitioner; I sent her the required hair, picture and other details and waited. She told me that she thought it was something to do with his liver and that he’d picked lead up from somewhere, recommended a liver tonic, said she’d treat him and we’d see what happened. He’s been firing on extra cylinders ever since. Purely coincidence? Who knows.
Our first outing, the unaffiliated at Aston Le Walls, was an experience on the wild side. With the dressage arenas situated in the middle of the cross-country, the combined proximity of loudspeakers, galloping hooves and chilly breeze was enough to put most horses on the sharp side of fresh and mine were no exception. Roger (the understudy) almost managed to contain himself and had almost settled until we entered our arena; from there he could see another fence which nearly blew his mind completely. I struggled to keep him between the boards as we performed some lovely movements that weren’t actually in our test; I thought we might gain a few extra marks for our ad-lib half passes and flying changes but the judge clearly disagreed and we were placed almost last. Bow felt similarly fresh and managed to get his tongue over the bit twice before his test. I had to jack his bit up so high that he looked somewhat like a Cheshire cat but it worked as he did a good test; his score placed us a more respectable third in his section. Both boys jumped double clears although Bow’s performance was considerably calmer than Roger’s and he finished third.
Our first affiliated outing was at Tweseldown; making the most of my new flexible lifestyle I was able to enter the Thursday OI on Bow. A slightly calmer test preceded a respectable show jumping round; although we had two fences down, I rode him well. After a slightly hesitant start (on my part) I got my act together and he flew around the xc. Roger was also slightly calmer in the dressage but tried to take off around the course of show jumps before letting me ride him more calmly over the twisty xc course. No prizes but a promising start.
Then came my fortieth birthday weekend but with Roger at Swacliffe 100 on Saturday and Bow entered at Aldon OI on Sunday there was little time for partying. Roger was calmer in all three phases although his show jumping still felt out of control. Bow was the star of the weekend and helped me to celebrate my milestone with 2nd place; a good test, one fence down and a clear fast xc round left us on a score of 34. Having ridden well I was elated especially when Horse & Hound published our picture; with their accompanying caption I reasoned that at least I wouldn’t have to tell everyone how old I’d turned!
Gatcombe followed swiftly. With Roger’s continued wildness in the show jumping I wasn’t sure whether to take him to his first novice but decided to give it a go. He was still wild but jumped a double clear giving me a really good ride xc. Thinking about trying the black box on him; anything’s worth a shot to harness his talent.


Perhaps I should have anticipated my nerves escalating on Bow in the AI; having opted to do day before dressage I thought hanging around at home would be easier than a long gap on the day. I thought I’d get loads done on Sunday morning but instead spent the entire morning worrying a lot and achieving very little. Arriving on site did little to ease my mind; with the tragic news of Spring Along’s death combined with the vision of a tricky sj track, my stomach twisted itself into tight ball. Rescue remedy eased the tension briefly but wore off before my turn came. I entered the arena surrounded by all too familiar faces and simply overrode to have four down. Frustrating and disappointing as Bow had been jumping really well. Next time sod the rescue remedy, I’ll be having a nip of brandy before I go in; maybe then I can let Bow jump the fences!
Deciding to run xc for fitness I set off determinedly; with our first advanced only two weeks away I wanted a good run. Having jumped the first few fences well we approached the double of corners. On our approach a fence judge walked onto my line. I thought I was about to be stopped; I should have shouted at him but instead just froze. We got to the fence but had both lost focus and Bow decided to run past the first corner. Having turned the air blue and given Bow a hard smack, our second attempt was foot perfect. He flew around the rest of the course.
Although very disappointed, especially following our previous success, I’m not going to over analyse it; I’ve learnt from it and am moving on. Future fence judges who get in my way had better beware; next time I’ll ride on (and over if necessary!) regardless, unless someone actually waves a flag at me. After all, at least we’re both fit, well and ready to fight another day.

Preparing for the off...

January always seems to drag its heels through a fog of cold, dank darkness. I always struggle to lift my spirits above the depressing emptiness which follows the festive social frenzy; with only the crumbs of the Christmas cake, the hazy memories of friends and family and what was once a chocolate mountain reduced to a remnant, every day seems like an effort.
But with February just around the corner, I am fending off the winter blues with thoughts of the imminent start of the eventing season – only six weeks away and counting. Poised upon the brink of a new phase of my ‘new life’, I feel a new optimism for the year ahead. Without the demands of teaching my stress levels have diminished along with my anaemia. Purely coincidence? Surely not.
Looking back, I was living on adrenalin as I tore myself in too many different directions. That can not be a healthy state to exist in. So without that pressure? I have more energy, am more relaxed and feel happier. I have more space in my mind to put things into perspective, no longer overreact about trivial problems and have more time to think about what I’m doing and how.
Apart from the book (nearly finished – still no agent!) the competition season is my main focus. Riding lots of different horses has given me a greater edge of confidence; I am riding more consistently and with a far greater feel. New challenges are exciting rather than terrifying. Self doubts are replaced more quickly by positive thinking and self belief; those distant goals seem somehow more obtainable.
My new life style has enabled me to fit in more training, more practice and more fun; with the luxury of flexible time, it all seems more manageable. I now have time to think about how I ride my own horses, more time to put theory in to practice and more time to enjoy them. Consequently they are both on very good form. We’ve been out to a few shows and performed well; we’re already looking forward to the next. Although we’ve already had some highs and lows this season, I’ll be taking each day as it comes and keeping things well in perspective. Bow Roger and I are definitely ready for the off!