'Shucks to the day

The smell of mud and hot horses in a freezing downpour elevates the spirits, while the eventual toe-thawing in the shower is a cause for jubilation, finds an undaunted Tessa Waugh

- Tessa Waugh

It was one of those weeks where the forecast for the weekend gets progressively worse with each day: dry and fine on Monday progressing to two big raindrops by Friday.

It was already drizzling when I woke up on Saturday morning - no lightening skies on either horizon to suggest that this would blow over - and the rain was drumming heavily on the stable roof as we tacked up.

A friend’s daughter, Isla, was here to hunt Mary’s pony Issy and arrived in the stables encased in 20 coats, to which I added two more. We set off briskly down the road, me saying pathetically optimistic things like, “It’s always worse up here. It'll be a different climate at the meet.”