Alcohol or horses? I've made my choice.

Despite Great Britain's gold medals in the Olympics for various horsing events, and I'm very proud of my country for doing so well in a number of sports, horses don't do very much for me. I realise that they are majestic creatures and rule many people's lives but they scare me a bit. They're quite big for a start.
There are probably a few similarities between drinking too much and being taken by surprise by a horse. I should think that both end badly. My point to all this is that I've asked my husband to plan our holiday next year. "We'll go wherever you fancy," I said. I knew that I was pretty safe in my decision as he won't go anywhere in the world where you can't drink the tap water or where anything more than malaria tablets are advised to prevent curtailing your life expectancy.
"I was thinking of America," he answered. I had foreseen this reply.
"How about Texas?" he asked. I had not foreseen this one.
After many days of internet research, map books strewn across the dining room table and weighing up the options available, he devised a route from Dallas taking in San Antonio, Roswell, Austin and a stay on a ranch.
"I love the idea of a ranch," I ventured, putting aside my horse-hesitation for the sake of an experience.
"There's a small problem with it," he said.
I ran through the possible scenarios in my mind: bucking broncos, horses with rabies (I'm not even sure horses get rabies), wobbly bits jiggling up and down as the horse moves (mine not the horse's), I even thought about drive-through ranches (this is America after all). It was none of these.
It was much worse. "Most of the ranches have no alcohol," he said.
If there's a choice of horse or hangover, it will always be the booze.
Is that why cowboys carried canteens?

Laughing Gravy wore my jumper and we came up with a title for my book

Friday evening I got home late from work. I found my dog at the front door wearing my jumper. I'm not sure how he got his head through the neck hole either or what he thought he was doing. It was an old jumper I'd given him to play with. I know how cheap this makes me. Honestly, we've tried him with all sorts of toys but they don't last very long. We thought that we'd struck gold by giving him our old clothes to play with. We stopped short of my husband's old pants.
That would be a whole world of wrong. They're supermarket own.
After a very long weekend at work, I had Monday and Tuesday off and like all work-free days, they sped by, leaving me with a list of stuff I haven't tackled. I forgot a friend's son's birthday for a start.
Most of Monday was taken up with a visit to Brighton to meet up with Myriad who are publishing my book next year. I have a lot of work to do on this rewrite. The meeting went really well though and at last, we've come up with a title.
As myself and my long-suffering husband who I talked into coming with me, were out of the house for so long, we'd asked a friend to nip round and let the dog out for a while. She sent me a text to tell me that she wasn't sure if he should be chewing random items of clothes and had rehung them on the washing line.
Really glad now we didn't let the dog have the second-hand underwear. I'd never be able to look my friend in the eye again.

Spreading joy on the M25

Let's be honest, it could do with it.
Returning from Wales yesterday afternoon by car, the journey took me along the M25 (anti-clockwise past Heathrow if you care, but I'm guessing you don't). The traffic was its usual stop-start along the temporary speed limits. It seems to me that the traffic flows until the temporary speed restrictions are in use, but perhaps that's just me.
Lanes in both directions crawled along for miles, most of us with better places to be on a Friday afternoon which crept into Friday evening without too much effort.
As we made our way along the outside lane, one of the passengers in the Golf VW in front of our car opened his window and began to wave at those static on the clockwise carriageway. He waved at about fifty or so people until a concrete barrier stopped his good cheer.
Hardly anyone waved back. A few looked the other way. Some smiled that embarrassed smile. Some were clearly just humouring him.
I'm not sure why that was. It was making me laugh but then being stuck in traffic with the fumes getting too much may have made me delirious. Thing is, we were on the M25 for a considerably long time but the fella in front waving is just about all I recall.
Who'd have thought that the M25 could be so amusing? But before you all rush there giving the Edinburgh Festival a run for its money, bear in mind I usually start drinking at 7pm and the sun was well and truly over the yardarm.