THE SMALL THINGS

In the end, because I gave myself permission not to write the blog, I wanted to write the blog. I am stupidly cussed. I was thinking, as I...

Author’s note: I really had intended to tell you something which was not about the horse today. But the red mare was so lovely this morning...

‘I worry about you and that horse,’ says my mother, at breakfast. ‘I know,’ I say. I do know. I know at once what she is going to say. ‘Bec...

Things have changed, in the horse world, since the days when I grew up in a racing stable in the Lambourn Valley. Some of those things have ...

Over at Leopardstown today, a late chapter in a long and glorious story will be written. The veteran Tidal Bay is crossing the water to have...

It is a horrid, dirty, rainy day in Scotland, although we are very lucky in not getting the gales which are battering the rest of the countr...

Just pausing in my hectic work day to give you a little Friday loveliness. (I say that with great certainty. It is loveliness to me. I quite...

Author’s note: sometimes I write a blog and I’m quite pleased with it. It’s right and tight and pointful. Sometimes I am unsure. I wonder, d...

When I do my stuff for HorseBack UK, sometimes it is quite straightforward. An obvious photograph presents itself; the words that go with it...

One of the things I like about Facebook is that, rather oddly, it does carry a lot of wisdom on it. People find old sayings or famous quotat...

It is Derby Day. This is the day that I go down to my quiet field, ringed by Scottish hills and deep woods, and tell my mare of the great m...