A Small Consolation...

If you're female, single and feeling a bit lonely you should read this. "Guyland" clearly isn't that much better... Besides:

"A whole raft of research shows that whereas some of society’s longest life expectancies are found among groups of nuns, the shortest are found among single men. Single men die early: they drink more, smoke more and kill themselves more often, whereas single unmarried women live longer than their married sisters."

I love statistics!

So although I'm not exactly a nun, I'm definitely looking at upping my life expectancy the way things are going. Just a shame it will be one long lonely life...

Reliving the Drama

And then I was back there again. I suddenly felt all nauseous as I revisited those horrible minutes after Richard's fall. But after the first shock had died my unease was replaced by annoyance over the terrible picture of me. I was at Oslo Horse Show and holding an issue of some new horsey magazine in my hands, and right there on page 51 I could see myself practically gasping for air in the middle of the course as it dawned on me that we'd probably lost Richie.

So that's what it feels like to have photographers follow you around then. To capture you in the middle of a break down. My hair is a mess from running down the course, but at least the sunglasses are hiding tears. I've been assured it is not that bad - and that it captures the drama... Whatever that means. I would have preferred to have looked good. I've been telling myself that no one reads that silly magazine anyway.

Richard is racing again tomorrow. My worry has grown again over the last few weeks as the rain has been pouring down. My biggest fear is that the ground will be really soft again like it was that dreadful day. Luckily we've had dry weather for the last few days and the forecast is good for tomorrow so fingers crossed it will dry up a bit more.

At least we have got the best jockey this time. Marcus is riding Richie again, which is a big relief. That way he is in the best possible hands. The only drawback with Marcus is that he has a history of not showing up. But to be quite honest, I wouldn't mind at all this time as we would have to withdraw then. At least that way there'll be no injuries. Just don't tell my dad I said that.

The scenes from that day are burnt into my mind - but I didn't realise what a mess I looked until I saw the press coverage...

Visited the Boys Today

I got away from work a bit early today so went out to see the boys. They were enjoying the sunshine with their new friends and seemed very happy with life. Romantico has grown quite a lot since the move so is slightly on the skinny side at the moment so I bought him a rug at the weekend. He doesn't need it with the lovely weather we've got now, but then at least it's there for when it turns. I'm sure it won't be long now... So trying to make the most of the beautiful days we have left.

The two funny looking teenagers... And they're standing on the slope which really doesn't help the overall picture.

The gang waiting to come in for dinner...

I Just Love the Autumn

Horses in the City

Once again we've had the World Cup circus in town. For three days it is possible to watch some of the worlds best show jumpers in the middle of Oslo.

On the Saturday I went and sat in the warm up tent before the World Cup class and just soaked up the atmosphere. As sad as it might seem it reminds me of when I was a groom... Besides it was really impressive how 10-15 horses warm up simultaneously in a 20x40 arena without much problems. Especially since they were jumping rather big fences in there as well. Most dressage riders wouldn't have coped for five minutes even without the fences... But then the show jumpers are a bit more rock and roll.All trying to watch on the TV screen as the first rider goes through the course

I always feel a bit sad when the weekend is over. It always makes me think that I should be out there doing stuff too-and not in an office from 9 to 5.

Not jumping 1.50 though - just riding would be a start.

Down town Oslo is suddenly transformed into stables and arenas

Horses and grooms waiting for their riders to appear

There were a few dressage horses too. This is the way I'm hoping Romantico might look some day... Slightly optimistic I know...

It's the Dream...

Scary Times

So Kris has started handing my phone number out to taxi drivers -how on earth did it come to this?

There seems to be a general consensus among my friends that I need to get out there and make the most of my single state. For quite a while I could fend them off with the one date I did go on in the spring, but that is well beyond old news now. And I really don't feel like changing the statistics.

I might as well admit it - I'm not single and fabulous. I'm single all right, and at times I do actually feel a bit fabulous, like when I was toastmaster at a wedding a few weeks ago. But I certainly don't find being single one bit fabulous. And it has nothing to do with my shoes. Or the shoes I don't have for that matter. It is all about missing that special person.

Boys on the Move

Two weeks ago we moved the boys from their summer location. The grass was starting to go and the weather going unpredictable so we didn't dare have them outside 24/7 anymore. They were so well behaved on the transport it was almost a bit too good to be true. When we stopped for petrol they just stood there like they had been doing it their whole life.



The summer holiday is over, but they seem very happy in their new surroundings. They still go out all day in a big field with five other youngsters, but are stabled at night. It took them about two minutes to settle in...

Making new friends

It's Not About the Shoes!?!

So maybe it's not about the shoes. I did suspect that it wasn't, although after watching six seasons of SATC this summer I did start to wonder if it was just me missing something here. But after reading a man's take on the situation I have concluded that he is probably right, and it is certainly not about the shoes. And I quote:

"I'm sure other women will be incredibly impressed by your new Jimmy Choos or Blahniks. But, ladies, the only time a man will notice your shoes is if your feet are wedged on top of his shoulders bouncing either side of his head."

I'll keep that in mind then. Although in my case it is in fact about the shoes sometimes, just the other way around. Being six foot tall I am generally better off without heels. That way I seem to alienate less men, which I suppose is a good place to start. Yes, I did read that somewhere.

I have to admit that although I probably wasn't supposed to, I did laugh out loud a few times too many on account of British girls. Mainly because it was well written, but also because it brought back some memories of my own. I still have a vivid image in my mind of English girls sporting tracksuit bottoms accompanied by high heels and a small fancy handbag to the pub.

But I stopped laughing when I reached the bit about the lovely girl he dated –who’s hands were, I quote again:

"...rough and leathery like a tree-climbing monkey’s. Years of working around horses had given her the hands of an 80-year-old Siberian coalminer. Surely some sort of moisturising routine would have been a simple and inexpensive remedy."

First of all I can assure you that when you work full-time with horses, especially through the winter, year after year, a simple moisturizing regime is not enough! And just for the record, I have always worn gloves when possible when I am around the horses, so even if my nails might be a little uneven and broken at times I am pretty sure I would not be mistaken for an ageing Siberian coalminer any day soon. Besides I doubt anyone working in a coalmine in Siberia would make it to their 80th birthday anyway!

But coalminers and three-climbing monkeys aside, it is an interesting discussion. Having horses certainly leads to broken nails, disastrous hair and a smelly car. I have all separate clothes and stuff for the yard of course, but coming back from riding I hardly smell of roses. So given the choice between being a slightly unkempt horsey girl or a barbie doll - it is pretty obvious what I have chosen. And thinking about it that might actually be why I am sat here writing this on a Friday night.

So I do take a hint. I might need to step it up if I am going to have any hope of attracting a man. Damn it, it would have been much easier to just get the shoes...

Racing Again

On Sunday there were actually two jump races. I had been dreading the race all week, fearing I wouldn't bear watch it. But as I stood there and watched the guys get ready for the first one I felt surprisingly calm. Richard was in the second one so there was still time to go somewhere and hide.

The other horses got away and after an uneventful race they all made it home with number three taking an easy victory. Afterwards we got chatting to the owner and he told us his horse had actually fallen in its two previous races.

"He's just been a bit too bold. I think he needed to fall to realise he had to actually pick his feet up," he said with a big grin and went to collect his prize.

Right, that was one way to look at it. Fortunately Richie has always picked his feet up well. When he fell it was because he was tired - and the ground was very heavy. As supposed to a lot of the others he actually jumps pretty well.

So when Richies race started I was completely calm. The going was very good, Richie on good form and Donal had been instructed to take it easy at the back.

The winner, in red/black/blue, was a Swedish horse who'd won its last five races...

Richie came in fifth in the end. He came nicely the last 200, but it was a bit too late. I really didn't mind - just glad he had a nice run.