THE SMALL THINGS

The pride I feel for my red mare runs through me like electricity. She’s had a rotten few days, losing her old friend, and yesterday she was...

Very tired and rather doleful, as you may imagine. But the great kindness of the Dear Readers is astonishingly generous and I am profoundly ...

In every family, there is the one who is not much talked about. Not because they are wicked or shameful, but because they are so good. They ...

Today, in my official capacity as the curator of the HorseBack UK Facebook page, I was going to use the word disinterested. After some cons...

Fretting about small things; fretting about big things. And then I have to go out into the Scottish sunshine and take photographs of the her...

When the disasters come, I never know what to do. There is a vast sense of powerlessness. Sometimes the disaster is so big and so ugly and s...

Intellectuals can be astonishingly stupid. I love ideas and I love abstract thought and I love the people who trade in them. But still: the ...

Intellectuals can be astonishingly stupid. I love ideas and I love abstract thought and I love the people who trade in them. But still: the ...

End of a long week. The sun glimmered and danced and dazzled. The red mare and the little Paint rode together up the avenue and down the ave...

Scotland looked so beautiful today that she made me catch my breath. I think that I never forget the beauty; I think that I am all about the...

139,000 crazy words to the good. I feel my head spin, take a gusty sigh of relief, and think: at last, I have something I can work on. The...