I had a filthy cold last week and missed two rides, so it was in a snotty and enfeebled state that I gathered Lenny on Monday morning. He reported that there were large predators afoot. By “he reported” I mean that he was snorty and on tiptoes, his eyes on stalks.

His usual demeanour being more of a cocky strut, Pam the trainer allowed as to how there are mountain lions in the area and that he was probably correct in his surmise. We decided to lunge him. He’s extremely left-handed so we’ve been working on his right lead canter. With only minor plunging and leaping for dramatic effect, he gave us beautiful transitions into a steady right lead.

I wish you could have seen him like that, jazzed by the excitement, fit and shiny in his metallic summer coat, arching his neck and flexing his horse abs. His surfer-blond mane standing like flames along his crest. When he’d settled a bit I got on. A hundred or more red-winged blackbirds flew low over us. Lenny stretched down into the bridle, carrying me as if I weighed no more than a feather.

Our children always grow to live in a foreign country

Four children of the same parents do not receive the same parenting.

Often we do not grasp what has happened to us until we tell someone else about it.

Humboldt never changed his mind about Berlin, insisting that the city was a ‘little, illiterate, and over-spiteful town’.

Dull people found him amusing. Interesting people thought him desperately dull.