Posted by Tania Kindersley.
Today I rode a horse and arranged flowers. I am clearly morphing into some kind of genteel lady from 1762. If I start doing needlepoint and playing the harpsichord, then it shall be official that there is a tear in the space-time continuum.
The horses and flowers took up so much time that I do not even have a moment to write this blog. I had no idea Georgian women were so busy. Now there are guests coming, and I must attempt to remember my creaking social graces, and not get too over-excited and start shouting. (This is always a very, very real danger with me.)
In the meantime, some pictures of my absurd pursuits:
(The punk mane is because her hog is now at the vertical Mohican stage. It shall lie down, eventually.)
The Pigeon is giving me that look because she is not at all sure about this riding lark. I think she suspects that I have suddenly taken up with a huge, chestnut dog, on which I appear to be galloping about in fields. I do see how this would be a bit irritating:
I sincerely hope that I have a rather more expansive and proper post for you tomorrow. I can only apologise for this really very poor effort. And now I must go and put my lipstick on and think of some interesting conversation. (Must must must try not to bore the guests with my theories about the Gold Cup.)