Lull before the storm

I wake up, but I really can't be bothered getting up. Tomorrow we're going to Tonimbuk for a jumping lesson and freshman's showjumping. I feel sick. I don't want to go to Tonimbuk. I don't want to do eventing any more. I don't want to get up. This is terrible.

Outside, the sunrise is breathtaking, and heavy fog rolls around in the valleys like a lazy polar bear. We ride out, but it's heard to follow our usual relaxed warm-up when mists fleet across the path like little ghosts, and sometimes you can't see more than 10 metres in front of you. As we trot on in these mists, I am impressed at how trusting Crownie is. We try to stay on high ground to get as much visibility as possible.

I don't want to tire Crownie out too much, because tomorrow could be a big day. At the same time, I don't want her to lose fitness. So we do a lot of trotting (much safer in the fog), and some short stretches of canter. We ride into the valley and then canter up the hill to Dead Cow. Within the hour we are home.