Life is certainly sent to try us. This past week has been completely chaotic, and I think we were all glad to make it to the weekend.

The husband and myself have been quite poorly: we try to refrain from being competitive in areas such as fatigue or malady, but on this occasion the husband won by it a nose. I knew things were bad when he made his own appointment with the doctor and then went to the surgery voluntarily.

He claims that the doctor said he was ‘very brave’, but I remain sceptical. Of course, the child remains in resplendent health and has spent the last few days being effervescent and exhausting.

Our haulage business has been busy, which is great, but this has coincided with the aforementioned lurgy and also with the absence of our right-hand man, who has gone on a well-deserved holiday.

I suspect I might weep with gratitude when he returns. Autumn calving has now wrapped up, and thankfully all has gone smoothly. My pet cow, Jemima, was the last of the ladies to oblige with a lively heifer calf. I frequently marvel at the hardiness of the Limousin calves, who are often ‘up and sucked’ in minutes.

Completely deranged

After the Dressage Ireland National Championships, I had planned to give my lovely grey mare a holiday. However, she had other ideas. By the third day of her break, she had become completely deranged and it was clear that I was going to need a plan B.

After a couple of easy weeks, I have stepped up the work again and have scheduled some training and some competitions.

I never want to be greedy with my horse, but she truly lives to sashay down the centre line. Dressage is a job for most horses, but it is a vocation for this one.

At this time of year, the dulcet tones of the dreaded clipping machine can be heard in yards around the country. Clipping is the most arduous and revolting of stable yard tasks, but needs must.

I have been clipping horses for almost three decades and I have yet to find a way to avoid getting horse hair in places I would prefer not to, no matter what I wear. I often wonder if ‘naked’ is the way to go, but then I don’t want to give the poor postman a heart attack.