Life is simple but we insist on making it complicated

Confucius says so.

Confucius is right. Caroline says so. She is an expert on making simple things complicated.

Yet, sometimes, for short periods of time, I get it just about right and wonder why I don't do it more often.



Yesterday, after a ride on Ashdown Forest when Alfie and I got caught in a violent rainstorm, I took my tack home to clean it. Alfie usually does it himself but I thought he deserved a break.

It all turned out to be the happiest of afternoons. There I was, at the kitchen table, soaping Alfie's saddle and bridle. There was Peter, checking the base of his beehive for varroa mite, using the magnifying glass I bought in Beijing. There we both were, listening to a crime drama on Radio 4 Extra.

Simple pleasures.

There is peasant blood coursing through our veins, I'm sure of it.

I must schedule some time for being a peasant onto my iPad calendar...