Muddy Boots!

My muddy boots :)

Hollowell was a complete wash-out. Though still surprisingly well attended.

Check the black clouds behind the Mini stand.

And the mud...oh, the mud...

Sadly, the equestrian shows were cancelled on the Saturday after a shire horse broke loose and trampled a woman. The air ambulance made a dramatic landing in the central arena. They treated her at the scene and she left in a four-wheeled one. 

First time that's happened, and also funny how rumours spread. We were a row up when it happened and within half an hour the incident had grown from 'a horse got spooked and slipped in the mud' to 'a horse got loose and knocked down all the railings around a ride' to 'six people have been hospitalised and three discharged.' We were one Chinese whisper away from a fatality.

Other things I have learned this weekend:

• Mules are sterile and can't reproduce. In the 60 rare cases recorded, they either give birth to a horse or a donkey.
• The Spanish have a type of doughnut called a churro. It may be half the fat, but it's also half the flavour.
• Although £3.50 is a ridiculous amount of money for five pieces of baklava, I am willing to sell a kidney to purchase more.
• I would quite like a Giant African Millipede. I think they're charming. They hardly move and they eat veg. There's not much can go wrong there.

I also bought a hat. There was a stunning topper. I've been after one of those for ages but (although many would disagree) I have a small head, and they always come down over my nose. So I made do with this. Didn't quite match my butch black tank shirt at the time, but then contradiction is always a thing of beauty.

Not sure when I'll ever get a chance to wear it, but that's not the point with hats.

Anyway, today - whilst everyone else went down the field in torrential rain - I stayed glued to the telly for the Wimbledon men's singles final. Andy Murray and Roger Federer.

What an absolutely incredible match. And I make no apologies for it. I think it was Federer's year. There will be many more for Andy, I'm sure - he has played an outstanding tournament - but Federer... well, he's Federer. Grace, style, finesse and poise. Not only did he hold his composure throughout, but he did so to an entire Centre Court chanting 'Andy, Andy, Andy'. I hope it didn't tarnish the trophy too much. He truly deserved it. 

They did a slowmo promo of Federer a week back to the tune of Superstar by Lupe Fiasco and, maddeningly, I haven't been able to get it out of my head since. 

That aside, I am totally bereft. I have no idea what to do with myself. Over the past fortnight my arse has created a comfortable indentation in the sofa. Now it's all over. 

Terrifyingly, I have so much to do. Tennis allowed me to bury my head in the sand. I kept telling myself 'once it's over, I'll get on to everything...' Now it is over and I've just realised how much of everything there is to get on to.

The most immediate panic is that I have been invited to Morgen Bailey's writing circle tomorrow night at Poet's Corner (of all places! That used to be a pub in Cardiff!).

I'm looking forward to it, but I have to take something to read - and I'm dreadful at reading aloud. Makes me distinctly uneasy, but I need to practise before the lit fest in September.

The hardest thing is deciding what to read. You're supposed to take something you're working on. I've decided I might have a go at the first few chapters of the Nemesis Novel I've mentioned before. The one I just can't quite seem to end.

I think I'm having trouble ending it because I'm not convinced it's any good. Perhaps some feedback will help me to make a decision once and for all.

Deep breath...