Yesterday's wintry euphoria has vanished in a cloud of school crapness and homework trauma and the neighbour's insistence that the Communards and free jazz saxophone do work together if you spend enough hours trying to blend them (say five? Possibly six? Every day?). I am cross and slightly ashamed about the homework thing, because I was a bit of an arsehole. I mean, faults on both sides but I am the adult. I also crossly threw something (unobserved, I strop alone) and have broken a compass. Maturity, it eludes me. After all that, I went out and walked the dog and looked at the giant beautiful full moon and had a bath and chilled the fuck out slightly.
Apart from that I had my weekly tussle with Cartolino, the horse who is almost as nervous as me. The Door of Terror was shut today, so we didn't have any door related freak outs, but then he saw a man in a striped rugby shirt (admittedly very ugly (the shirt not the man)) and lost his shit again.
He doesn't look nervy, gurning here, but do not trust his sweet, hairy face. Also, apparently another horse head-butted him recently and he needed stitches in his forehead (forehead? Is that a horse term? Sub-forelock? Poll? This diagram suggests 'forehead' is ok)! I'd be twitchy too if that happened to me.
Whenever I get on him, the stirrup leathers are super short, so there is obviously a fearless seven year old riding him before I do. I am beyond even feeling mortified about this, I just want to stay alive (why do I keep doing this? I don't really know: because it used to be easy and delightful and a pleasure and I don't want to just give up on it, I suppose. Also, all my retirement fantasies involve decrepit horses).
Looking forward to:
- the hot water bottle I will be placing under my croup shortly (I might use horse terms for all body parts henceforth, people should definitely have withers and fetlocks and gaskins);
- my Friday night pizza;
- the return of Liberty of London;
- Going to Mrs Trefusis's literary salon, The Books That Built Me, next week;
- Downloading the new Lissa Evans, because I loved her previous;
- MY BIRTHDAY
What are you looking forward to?
PS You should probably watch this baby otter learning to swim, via lovely Karen. It is relevant to all our interests.
PPS I have totally miscalculated this forty day thing because my birthday is the 26th and that just doesn't work, does it? Shit. This is SO TYPICAL.