It’s official, I have definitely turned in to a grumpy old bag. The snow was bad enough, but the incessant rain and wind through March really has had me reaching for my old school atlas, wondering where I should move to.
All in all it has been a pretty unsatisfactory few weeks. George was kept in 24/7 as the fields were prepared for Burnham Market International, so became ever more explosive with each ride. The horse that used to be happy to have a helicopter land in his field suddenly decided that on no account could he pass either a digger or even a parked land rover without making a song and dance – or should that be snort and dance. The sooner he can get back out in the field the better.
Most of the month involved being stuck in front of my computer writing article after article for my forthcoming events. I was lured out of my lair to try out a new restaurant in Burnham Market but I won’t name it because we won’t be going there again. The highlight, however, was another tick on my bucket list – a trip to Stratford-upon-Avon to see some Shakespeare.
I drove over earlier in the day, so as to have time to visit both Shakespeare’s birthplace and his grave. What a fabulous town, I will be going back for sure. Having my own, 1-1 Macbeth rendition from a very talented (and admittedly very easy on the eye) actor was an experience I will never forget, as was walking round the house where my favourite author was born and spent his early years. Incredible.
I’d found a fantastic place to stay, 5 minutes walk from pretty much everything – including the theatre where I met up with Catherine to see Macbeth, starring Christopher Eccleston and Niamh Cusack. In all honesty, she was better than him – his acting was good, but delivery less so (though maybe my mind was still on my afternoon’s encounter!). For me, however, Michael Hodgson stole the show as the porter. All in all it was a thoroughly enjoyable 36 hours.
The month wrapped up with Burnham Market International – fortunately my newly painted land rover was returned to me just in time. Night one I met Charlotte for supper – she supposedly had two horses running with Harry Meade, and then there was the annual Trevor & Lorna invasion. We got through the first two days OK, but the heavens opened again on the Friday night, and for the first time ever (this event has run since 1998) we had to abandon on Saturday morning, before the international classes got to jump. The team had worked through the night, moving fences and preparing take offs and landings but to no avail. Gutting.