I'm Scared Stiff

I am so nervous that I haven't been able to sleep properly for the past few nights.

I have entered Beloved Daughter vs me in a horsey competition to take place in the middle of the forecast hurricane, on top of one of the highest hills in Dartmoor just outside Widecombe, this Sunday.

I’ve booked Sally to make breakfast for our six guests, while Beloved Daughter and I rise before light to hitch up the trailer, prepare our horses, and arrive at the venue for not long after eight in the morning.

The list of other entrants has now arrived, and, as I expected, the rest of the people in our class are mostly aged nine, like Beloved Daughter’s friend, Willow, on her pony Twizzle who is very hairy and slightly smaller than a Great Dane Dog. Of 16 competitors, only three apart from me have undisclosed ages, ie old ladies who should know better. Although I did tell the organisers my age, so I wouldn’t mind at all if they’d printed it.  I think there should be a cup for the oldest combination of horse and rider, as well as one for ‘Best Under Ten’.  In fact I think I will donate one for next year’s competition.

There are three stages to the ‘One Day Event’.  We have to learn by heart, and perform a dressage test, which means walking, trotting and cantering around in circles. Beloved Daughter has never done one of these before. Then we have to jump some painted poles, which fall down if you touch them.  And finally we have to canter a mile or two around a cross country course jumping brown fences, which don’t budge however hard you hit them. In BD’s and my class, the jumps come up to your knees.

Both of our horses are big, scopey, talented and experienced professionals for grown-ups, used to jumping huge, solid, wide jumps 3'6" high from the gallop, and to doing all sorts of incredibly complicated gymnastics in dressage.  So both of them can easily manage what we are asking them to do on Sunday, with their eyes shut, asleep.

But the big question is, will they?