Monday, August 19

 It's another gloomy day.  I can understand how they say that there are more sufferers from depression in areas like ours than in the tropics. A little bit of sunshine makes all the difference.

I'm typing this on my old HP desktop computer.  I finally bit the bullet and asked Jamie to remove the wonderful Mac laptop.  Common sense told me that two computers on one desk was over-kill and the second one took up too much room.  Now I'm regretting it.

The problem with the H-P is that it has a compact keyboard.  Somewhere along the line I decided that a basic keyboard was what I needed.  It's only 285mm wide (that's 11 inches) and the two lugs on the back which are intended to give it a bit of a lean have been lost.  My clumsy fingers don't cope with the tiny keys and I've got it propped up on an old iPod. Jamie, of course, says it's time I bought a new computer (which will come with a better keyboard) and JB HiFi has a beauty on sale but I'm not ready to splash out another $1000 at the moment (or ever).  Instead I've ordered a new keyboard and mouse and it should arrive in the next day or so.  In case you're wondering, I didn't order it from Temu.  I'm trying to wean myself off that site at the moment.

Jamie says I'm avoiding the inevitable and he has bet me I'll have bought a new computer before Christmas.  The problem is, he's probably right.

BONNIE LASS                                                                                   OCTOBER 8, 2021

 Some mornings, when there was frost on the ground and her breath crackled in the icy air, Fiona questioned whether her choice of career was a wise one.  Some people know, from a young age, what they are destined to become and, for Fiona, deep in her soul, she knew she would, one day, be a famous jockey.  Before reaching those dizzy heights, though, she had years of apprenticeship to complete, and more years of building up a reputation, before she might be trusted to saddle up one of the favourites in a major race. 

 Most mornings were like this: get up at the crack of dawn, splash some cold water on her face, make a cursory brush of her teeth, grab a roll from the kitchen and report to the stables to see what horse-in-training she would be responsible for. Today might be different: the boss had told the staff that a new horse would be joining their string: a filly with great potential.  It had impeccable breeding and pundits were already saying she was one to watch out for. Fiona hoped that she might get the nod to take her on her first training run.

 A noise behind her made her turn around. It was another apprentice, Jake, last to arrive as usual.  If appearances counted for anything, Jake was in the wrong occupation.  Dishevelled and prone to lateness, Jake always struggled with his weight.  But he seemed to have no ambition to find anything else to do with his life. 

 Jake was forgotten as the stable door opened and one of the hands came out leading the most beautiful animal Fiona had ever seen: this was Bonnie Lass, the new arrival. Fiona’s Scottish grandmother had always called her Bonnie Lass so Fiona felt she had a personal stake in this horse. The stable hand had found a tartan saddlecloth for her and Fiona took this as a good omen, too.

She could hardly believe her luck when the trainer called out, “Up you get, Fiona.  Look after her and we’ll talk later about her program.”  Fiona hurried forward and accepted the cupped hands of the strapper to help her into the saddle.

Bonnie Lass was a delight to ride, well-mannered and compliant but Fiona sensed there was a spirit there waiting to be unleashed.  As they approached the paddocks, Fiona could see Jake struggling to get his mount under control.  Max was a notoriously  difficult horse, hard-mouthed and cantankerous.  Fiona pushed Bonnie Lass forward, knowing that, if Max saw another horse galloping past him, his natural racing instinct would take over and he would give up his bad behaviour in the excitement of the chase.  Fiona knew she should have spent more time in warming up Bonnie Lass before asking her to stretch out but Max was now under control and Jake could handle him from there.  The odd thing was that Max had been at full stretch but did not make up any ground on his stable mate.  Bonnie Lass maintained her lead with no apparent difficulty while Max had clearly strained every sinew to catch up with her.

 I think we’re on to a winner here, thought Fiona.

 The training session passed without further incident and the string returned to the stables for the horses to be rubbed down, checked for injury and given their first feed of the day. The grooms and jockeys gathered in the dining room as was the pattern in their rigidly controlled program.  There was plenty of food available and the hubbub of noise abated as people’s attention focused on their breakfast.

 The head trainer strode into the room and the noise of eating and conversation died down.  This was not a normal occurrence.  His eyes traversed the room and settled on Fiona.  A finger crooked and Fiona rose to her feet and shame-facedly crept out of the dining room towards the stern face of the boss.

 “I saw what you did there, Fiona, and I don’t want you to feel pleased with yourself.  Your first responsibility is to your mount and nothing – and I mean nothing – should ever get in the way of your responsibility.  Take this as a first warning.  If it happens again, you are out.  I had thought of letting you be the regular rider of Bonnie Lass but I can’t entrust her to anyone who doesn’t put her welfare above everything else.  Someone else will take her tomorrow and you can stick with the also-rans.

Stunned, Fiona could only mutter ‘I’m sorry’ and return to her seat.  Her appetite for breakfast had gone and she sat there, her precious happy mood in ruins.  She knew it would take her a long time to make amends for her stupidity.