Saturday morning found me up at the riding school watching the Munch and a couple of others have their regular Saturday morning lesson. It is good to see him getting on so well and enjoying himself. Since he has found that he can ride and ride well, his confidence has bloomed. It wasn’t a great day weather wise though. Heavy overnight rain had ruined any chances of our match going ahead, so I was left with the prospect of a Saturday by myself, as everyone else, Mrs BW included, had places to go, people to see.
I turned my back on the riding lesson and looked up at the hills. The fog was seeping down through the trees, and filling all the cracks and crevices with a blanket of grey. The horses that had a few minutes before been visible in the trees on the brow of the hill disappeared into the thickening mist. A thin drizzle started to fall. My thoughts turned to a hot cup of tea and an afternoon spent listening to the afternoon play maybe on the radio and catching up on one or two things. Not such a bad prospect really. Shame about the rugby though, I had been in the mood.