Attack of the killer ladybirds

You know what? I have enough trouble sleeping without being attacked by ladybirds, three nights in a row.

They have this oh so cutesy reputation, enshrined in nursery rhymes... 

...but, in the middle of the night, in the dark, they are SCARY. They go for my arms, landing like pterodactyl, then crawling with their scratchy little feet up towards my brain...

Perhaps lack of sleep could explain the near death experience I've just had on Alfie during a riding lesson? (That and the chesty cold which makes me gasp for oxygen when there doesn't seem to be any available ANYWHERE not even in the air)

Alfie is very clever. He can sense when I'm a little under par and take immediate advantage. Okay, so the sand school was like a lake and heavy under foot (hoof) so I can understand why he didn't feel that enthusiastic. Perhaps I was over-compensating? Making up for his sluggish behaviour by over-riding. I mean seriously, we could have gone faster if I'd been carrying Alfie on my back. It might have been less like hard work, anyway.

So ...we approach the TINIEST of jumps, somewhat akin to a water jump due to the puddles. Alfie decides to run out. Suddenly, he's not sluggish any more. Immediately after the run-out he dives sideways and downwards at high speed and sets off at a healthy bolt. How I stayed on, I'll never know. I lost a stirrup and remember being somewhere in mid air at a very rakish angle.

We had a bit of a slanging match and then he completed the same series of jumps in a very well-behaved fashion - admittedly with Tessa running behind waving a lunge whip.

Tessa's always one for the positive comment:

 "Even when you're not riding at your best, you still ride well enough to stay on, Caroline."


Myself, I blame the ladybirds.