THE SMALL THINGS

The Gold Cup six years ago was one of high emotion and high drama. I wrote it all down, and I’m so glad I did. I’m reproducing...

Today, my darlings, is my Day of Jubilee. It is my Independence Day. I have finally decided to set myself free. I realise,...

Today, I sent off a manuscript to my agent. I’ve had so many crashes and smashes in my writing career that I had almost given...

One of the oldest and dearest friends rang this morning. She is the Indispensable Friend. There are a very few that I absolu...

I absolutely love taking photographs. I feel a bit naked and slightly panicky if I go somewhere without a camera, in the same ...

‘Make mistakes,’ is one of my war cries. Embrace your mistakes, cherish your mistakes, lean in to your mistakes, because it is only...

All over the country, lovers of racing will be studying the form. They will be looking at stats and speed figures and ratings. Th...

Sometimes, I say to myself: oh, if only it could be easy.   Is this a thing? Is the modern world so ravelled and inexpli...

I suddenly realised why I stopped writing the blog. It’s because of the bloody, buggery menopause. As I write that sentenc...

I call a friend in Wales. She is a horse person and we talk about our mighty mares. It is 1pm. We discuss biomechanics for horse and ri...

It is the dazed end of the hottest summer anyone can remember. Not far away, a good old man is dying. Does it make a difference that h...