Wednesday, 16 July 2014


I have that undefended, deflated feeling which comes after too much excitement. It is like a child going to a party. You eat too much chocolate cake, do a tap dance, play kiss-chase with all the boys, and, as your mother predicted, there are tears before bedtime.

I am prone to passions. When one has me in its grip, I feel certain that it must be shared. There is a regrettable lack of editing or restraint.

Afterwards, as the waves of angst crash on the shore, my sensible mind says: nobody has to read it. It is your blog. It is free. And maybe someone who is having a shitty day will smile. And maybe someone who is feeling dislocated might sigh and say: me too. And maybe there is a life lesson in there somewhere.

That is the hope.

Here is the fear, which comes from the snapping jaws of the irrational mind. There you are, says the fear, which is a hag-bitch from hell, banging on again. On and on with the monomania. Not everyone has to know. You should just think these things, and not write them all down. People have lives to lead, and not enough time. It’s just a DAMN HORSE.

Sometimes, the rational mind fears the irrational mind may have point. This is one of those times.

I also had angst because I suddenly thought I had pushed the mare too much. I had  asked a vast deal of of her. I went down to the field and stood with her for a long time, rubbing her and relaxing her and putting her to rights. I apologised, just in case. She wibbled her lower lip and sighed. I interpreted this as a sign of forgiveness.

I apologise to the Dear Readers too. I really will write of something else. You are kind and good and you put up with a lot.

Don’t apologise, bawls the defensive brain. Don’t show weakness. Once there is blood in the water, the sharks will gather.

But frailty is part of the human condition. Vulnerability is what makes people interesting. There is no point building a castle keep and retreating inside it. The passions make me stupidly vulnerable, and there is no point pretending they don’t. It was a big day, and I told it in too much detail, and now I am crashed.

Miss Overshare sends her regrets, like Miss Otis.

But the lovely thing is that tomorrow the sun shall rise again, and with it shall come brevity and pith.

16th July 56


  1. I do hope there weren't any sharks. Just nice smiley dolphins.

  2. We don't have to know - but I am so glad that we do get to know and to have the opportunity to look in and share.
    The pictures and the words of the trip were joyful (and funny). Red looks wonderful. My mum loved the hairdresser's visits (to her care home) as the hairdresser always brought her little dog who ran everywhere. A visit from a horse would have been so special. I have no idea why there would be any sliver of room for regrets! It's sound that very best mixture of an ordinary day made very special.

  3. You're much too hard on yourself.

    It was lovely, and even if it had not been so...well, we love you anyways, so it wouldn't have mattered...

    As it was, I enjoyed reading the post and perusing the photos, imagining what it would be like to be there myself, took mental notes about how I might be able to apply your foundational steps to my own work in a different field, and then sent the link on to a friend.

    And I totally love that Red is to be a therapy horse!

  4. I know what you mean with your PS… It's that feeling after a party or dinner where I've had so much fun that my head starts second guessing every single thing I said. But please don't regret sharing the excitement. :)

  5. But it is your Horse and your passion and thats fine! (its your blog as well!!!!) don't know anything about horses at all but I do like your love for them. It shines through it all so do go ahead.


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