I could read your mind (Alan Parsons' Project)

Welcome to Follyfoot...um...actually - Red Phoenix Farm

I can't be doing with sports that require loads of gear, or take all day, or have to happen at certain times of the day.

I could never get into skiing for instance. It requires so much equipment, you need to travel to a mountain and pay loads for ski passes; you have to wear special clothes and stay there all day because you have put so much effort into it you can't leave after a couple of hours. And all for a pointless activity - going down a slope.

Swimming as a competitive sport is the same - requires a swimming pool of a certain standard, and early morning practices. I don't know why they have to train at dawn, but they do. Silly.

And cricket. I coached cricket once upon a time (and, amazingly, I was master in charge of cricket at Mt. Albert Grammar School briefly). All that gear and all that time - the whole of Saturday was a right off.

From my observations, horse riding is...ahem...another one. 

A horse requires a certain amount of land to live on, tack rooms, stables, a multitude of equipment - saddles and yadda yadda.

A soggy Habibi Stables - outside...and inside (below)

SWMBO spent all of last Saturday getting her horse ready for a show on Sunday. She and Sallie groomed it, plaited it and did a plethora of other activities to it that I could tell you about if I had a clue what they were.

At the end of the day, after all of this preparation, the horse leaped out of a stall in the stable complex at Red Phoenix Farm and injured itself, damaged Sallie's shoulder, and broke one of SWMBO's fingers.

Result? No Sunday show. 

A week later and she and Sallie got Max tarted up for another Sunday show. Except the heavens opened over the North Island of New Zealand during the night and Max is no fun in the rain (does he LOOK like he's having fun?) so...no Sunday show for the second week in a row.

Poor SWMBO. 

Give me a ball and a road or a wall or an empty swimming pool or a paddock of some description and I can have fun. Add a couple of people and we have a game of football (any old rubbish lying around can act as goals). 

Six years of lunch times at M.A.G.S. were taken up by impromptu football games involving any kind of ball we could find (a tennis ball on the tennis courts with or without the nets up was no problem for us - added some spice).

Good fun, but horses? Not on your nelly, or should that be neddy?!

Love and peace - Wozza