Saturday, 21 July 2012

In which I am half-baked

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

I’m a bit half-baked at the moment. This is fatal for any kind of writing. I sit down to the blog and think: what shall I tell them today? And because of the half-baked thing, my brain flops around in a desultory manner and goes: weeeellll....

I think: I could talk about the great race that the mighty Nathaniel ran today, when he was so admirable in the narrowest of defeats, and how I love him almost more for not winning than for coming out victorious. But it is after six and I am tired and it was such a great race that I need at least twenty-seven paragraphs to do it justice, by which time my head shall have fallen off and most of you will have left the building in despair.

I think: I could write a lyrical cantering thing about the great ride the mare and I took up over the hills and far away, but you really don’t need another bloody riding story. Trot on, trot on, I think; don’t make them suffer through yet more damn horse stuff.

I think: I could attempt to say something about world affairs, or political dynamics, or even the Tour de France, a race of which I know nothing, but which is being won by a great Briton, for the first time in its history. Apparently he is a Briton with tremendous sideburns and an anarchic sense of humour, and that pleases me.

Then I think: but dammit, it’s Saturday, and no one even reads the blog on a Saturday. (I rarely look at my numbers, because that is not what this thing is about, but when I do, I notice that everyone reads during the working week. Saturday and Sunday are obviously days when you snap off your computers and put your smartphones to sleep, and sit down with War and Peace. And hurrah for that.)

And in the end, I think, ah well. Let’s just have a nice flower picture and a dopey mare picture and a Pigeon stick-face picture, because sometimes all that anyone needs is something diverting on which to rest their eyes, when the world is a bit mad and sad. And perhaps it doesn't’ matter that I’m a bit half-baked. One can’t be fully baked every day, it would be preposterous.

Normally, when I fail to write anything of any interest, I suffer crippling angst. Often, I have to drink to forget. Tonight, for some reason, I feel quite sanguine.

My throat is still hoarse from cheering that marvellous Nathaniel on. The Younger Brother arrived just in time for the race, and we both roared and jumped up and down and the Pigeon fell into a frenzy of barking, and despite it all, the magnificent fella lost by a nose.

Normally, I would feel very sad about that, but the Brother and the Pidge and I went for walk after, up the beech avenue, and talked of love and trees. And then I went up to settle Red for the night, and she was at her dearest and most funny and affectionate, mooching about and resting her head on my chest and doing her enchanting little whicker. And I thought: it’s just a lost race. And now I think: it’s just a slightly pointless blog. Everything does not have to be a shining win for it to be all right.

And now I really am going to stop, before I start writing complete hokum. Who knows? Tomorrow, I might have something utterly fascinating to say. Or, not.


Today’s pictures:


21 July 1

21 July 2

21 July 3

21 July 4

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21 July 7

Red and the pony, mooching up the field to see me, in single file:

21 July 9

Dopey face:

21 July 10

I love this, because you can really see how velvety her coat is. Because it’s been so cold, she has not the sleek, smooth summer coat, but an adorable teddy bear velvet version, which I never tire of rubbing:

21 July 10-001

Red’s View:

21 July 12


21 July 14

And hoping also for biscuits face:

21 July 15


21 July 19


  1. Hahahaha. Maybe few people read on Saturday itself, but I'll bet all your readers read the Saturday blog by Sunday or Monday at least. We'd notice if you skipped it.

    Great race for Nathaniel, but I must admit to shouting Danedream home. Of course, I didn't have a bet on it, so had the luxury. Can't help admiring that gutty little mare; she takes on the big boys and sometimes she gets them--often enough that you know it isn't a fluke. In the company that was running at Ascot today, she was so overlooked, and yet there she came anyway, just like in the Arc. Proud of St. Nic too (my choice in the race). Fabulous race.

    Pigeon is too lovely for words today.


  2. Of course I read your blog on Saturdays (as do we all), and you could write about Red and all things equine every day and it would suit me fine. It's wonderful to read the writings of someone who truly understands the the equine personality and writes about them so entertainingly.

    You've also given me an insight into the world of British racing that makes it very personal. Don't stop writing....anything at all will do :-)
    Jan in Midwestern USA

  3. I check in whatever day it is. And if, for whatever reason, I miss a day or two I look forward to catching up. Please don't feel you owe us a manuscript each day - it's just a pleasure to read your wonderful words and see those gorgeous faces.
    Enjoy the rest of your weekend x

  4. OK, OK, it's Sunday!
    Here for some welcome respite from the horrible news "out there".
    Trying to make "sense" of random and senseless acts is futile, I know, and yet, I still insist on trying... (what's that quote about the definition of insanity -- repeating & repeating to get the same result...)
    Oh to be in the moment, like Red or Pigeon (wish I could touch MY nose with my tongue!).
    XX Pat

  5. Love your photos, and your animals with character, and your half-baked woffle!!!!! Think half-baked must mean something different to the English than the Irish though...?!?!
    Actually my daughter and I were just talking about people who called their animals names of other animals- her favourite is a horse named Squirrel, and I said mine was a dog named Pigeon, and we each had a giggle at the other's choices! And then came up with changes of names for our three dogs...


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