I have a dreadful admission to make – I am not a huge fan of the Olympics. However, before I am stoned for being so dreadfully unpatriotic let me please qualify that THIS time I have found myself thoroughly enjoying the Olympics albeit by proxy courtesy of BBC Radio 2 and all the over the top, super enthusiastic reporting, especially by Chris Evans.
But yesterday was different. It was the showjumping and Britain got a gold. The heart beating excitement of the jump off threw me right back to the heyday of showjumping in the 1970s when it was a much publicised TV sport, and all we little girls dreamed of growing up to be our sporting heroines that we had read about from year dot. Marion Coakes and her fabulous pony Stroller, a David and Goliath position if ever there was one.
Our romantic visions were of marrying one of those gods of the arena like David Broom. Aah how I remember queuing for his autograph at the Royal Highland Show when I was 13 years old.
The glamour and excitement, no wonder Jilly Cooper made Riders her first big blockbuster book.
Yesterday was one of those amazing days, straight out of the teenage dreams.
Well done Nick Skelton and the team, that was wonderful!