Having a very stressful day. Kirsty has made me come to somewhere in Wales for this horse show. I've no idea where, but it begins with a double L and it's near Oswestry. And now I'm stood here looking after the horse, the dog and Evie. It's not on. I can't even go to the toilet because I can't leave the horse and I'm stressed up to the nines after the journey. I mean, you can't reverse with a horsebox, you know. So we've had to drive over the pavement and all sorts. Added to that, Michael's gone out on a bike ride and your father's out playing golf with Paul and he's asked me to babysit Robbie the dog as well. I mean, I can't babysit that dog, this dog, a gifted child and a bloody horse, can I? It's ridiculous. I don't know whether I'm coming or going. People just use you for their own ends, is what I think. Your father's no use, either. We took that reproduction oak court cupboard out to Dagfields the other day, and you've never seen such a rigmarole to move the thing. Moving furniture's just not in your father's meaning structure. So, by way of relaxation, I'm just trying to teach Evie knitting with some wool I brought back from Portugal...
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