I need (yes 'need' is a relative concept, but nevertheless) new boots. I cannot afford new boots. My old ones are completely, irrevocably dead and falling apart along every seam and in the broken stump of one heel, a large stone has become immovably wedged, and it clunks with every step.
My Portrait of a Lady body cream has vanished. Just disappeared. No one is owning up. It has probably been used in an experiment.
Writing about cronuts and cheeseburger stuffed crust pizzas in French is an essentially ridiculous occupation doomed to failure (and not lucrative enough to pay for boots).
Thursday is riding day and today new horse Gecko (Gecko! Who calls a horse Gecko? Few creatures can be less reptilian than a sturdy horse with a crew cut) and I did JUMPING. Teeny tiny jumps, but jumps nevertheless. After a childhood and adolescence of nonchalant fearlessness, I ride as an adult in a state of permanent tension between intense joy and the very real terror of something awful happening. Jumping is like this, but ramped up a hundred times. I was breathing VERY heavily by the end, but it was basically brilliant. Here is Gecko looking totally unmoved by our exploits, as well he might, but I reckon we did ok:
I am not at all brave in any other aspect of my life at the moment, so thank goodness there is this.
Also, Gecko lives next door to my favourite pair of ponies at the stables, one fine, delicate, exquisitely beautiful looking one (to whom I whispered today "I would have killed for you when I was ten") and one tiny, shaggy fat one with tiny stumpy legs. They both share one box because apparently they like company, and I got to spy on them and feed them carrots.
Tiny pony shake:
God, ponies. I live for the day when I'm old enough (and have enough money, sssssh) to be a toothless barmy old crone and wear one of those padded jackets full of hoofpicks and pony nuts and have a horse living in my kitchen, which will be a scene of unprecedented squalor and incontinent elderly sight hounds (I don't think this is quite the Fabulous Fashionista vibe, is it? I watched that, it was wonderful especially the utterly magnificent Baroness Trumpington).
What do you dream of in your old age?