School is out this week and A got invited to go to Cornwall with her friend to attend a riding camp. Although I don’t like horseback riding, I’m pretty jealous that she will be spending the week riding a horse along the beach. The riding style is English obviously so I asked her friend’s mother what she needed for the camp. She suggested jodphurs, riding boots, and some gloves. There’s a store on the high street that I’ve been in a few times because they sell luggage. Little did I know that upstairs there’s a whole new world, and that world smells strongly of leather. She came out of the dressing room in her jodphurs, feeling pretty self conscious about their form-fitting style. There was a saddle on a stool there so one can try out the fit of the pants. The woman encouraged her to have a seat. I asked her if I could take her picture but she wasn’t amused.
She had to come back to my office because I had one last call before I headed home for the weekend. The call was with a dear friend of ours so after business was over, A said hello. When she handed the phone back to me my friend said, “She sounds so British and so mature!” I don’t hear the British part but it must be more obvious to our American friends.
Sunday she and J took the six hour train journey southwest. After the first evening of riding we got a text message from her that said, “My bum hurts”. Well, even though I don’t hear her sounding British, she is texting British.