The end of the week; or, I can’t remember what I was going to say

I was going to write a whole thing about flaws. I had it, running in my head all morning. Ironically, whilst it sat snugly inside my brain, it was flawless. Ha, ha, ha, go the gusts of ironical laughter.

I think my thesis was: flaws are good. They are what make humans lovable. Diamond-hard perfection is of course not possible, but some people manage to give a simulacrum of it. But the real beloveds are the ones who not only have chinks in their armour, but who cannot help but show the chinks.

I was able to bring evidence to bear. I was going to show you my working.

And now it has all gone.

Never mind. Feels quite symbolic, really. Like a little parable.

The week is coming to a close and I am stuttering to a halt. I did a lot of HorseBack work, I wrote many, many words of book. This morning, I got up early to dazzling sun and put on a further 1358. Half of them will go in the second draft, but still. They are scratches on the page and that’s what matters.

I said goodbye to the servicemen who have been with us this week, under the kind Deeside sunshine. I checked the mare’s foot, which is bruised. The heat has gone and she is nodding her head at me as if to say: I’ll be fine. Mr Stanley the Dog staged two great escapes, which luckily did not end in disaster. (He went to investigate a very tempting building yard just across from my house. And for those of you who worry about these things: far from a public highway, so no actual danger.) I even sent some long overdue emails.

I still keep finding Sir Henry Cecil tributes, which make me cry. Yesterday, Warren Place sent out the first horses since his death, and Songbird and Morpheus won beautifully for Lady Cecil, in whose name they now run. They were both so bonny and imperious, streaking away ahead of their fields, that they reminded me poignantly of all that lost greatness.

I got my outside tap to work, with the help of my kind neighbour. This is a hang out more flags moment for me. Now I can water the white lilac.

And that’s it really. That’s all I am capable of. I’ve done all my work; for once I have beaten time. Now I’m going to watch the racing from Sandown and York, two of my favourite courses in the world.

 

Today’s pictures:

Are a little photo essay, for a change. This is what I see when I go down to the small herd each morning. This is why even after the darkest night, I start the day with a smile on my face.

Some of the pictures are not of high quality, because I was quite a long way away, and just pointing and shooting on auto-focus. But I wanted you to get an idea of the sweetness.

First sight. Red the Mare spots me:

She at once sets off. The other two are in no hurry:

I love that I SEE YOU face. Notice Autumn the Filly is still flat out. This is because she is one of the most laid-back horses I have ever met:

Myfanwy the Pony decides to get moving:

And the chilled American Paint at last hauls herself upright:

And then there is some ambling:

The lead mare is on her way. Nothing will stop her queenly progress:

The two junior members don’t like to rush anything:

And round the corner she comes, with Stanley the Dog in the lead:

The dozy beauty, with the wind in her mane:

And finally the sweet hello here I am face, ready for love. Which of course she gets, in spades:

I genuinely do not know what I did to deserve her.