Whilst tidying the computer room last night I came across a library book. That sinking feeling I get occasionally returned to my stomach and the thought ‘Oh FUCK’ crossed my mind.

I’ve done it again. I don’t know what it is about me and library books but I never remember to return them on time. So I located my library card and renewed the three outstanding loans over the internet, which I should have done over a week ago. I’ve beaten my record this time - £12.34 in fines. Yes, well, that’s the third time I’ve renewed them now; each time I was a few days late and it just added up.

They’re going back on Saturday morning and you’re quite right, Himself has enough to think about at the moment – so I won’t be bothering him with this.

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I was watching a cooking programme on telly last night – I don’t know why; I can't say that I enjoy cooking. Although that’s probably not quite true, I have my moments (yes, thank you, we’ll have no comments on that one). I do enjoy baking cakes when the mood takes me, which to be fair isn’t that often. But there is method to my madness – when it does happen my family really appreciates it. So does Tracy. The thing being that I am inclinded to get a little carried away and don't just produce one or two things - try enough to feed an army.

But that’s not what this is about, I was just having one of my 'Ronnie' moments– they were cooking asparagus and it triggered a memory. Did you know that asparagus makes your wee smell funny? This from a cooking programme. OK, we’ll pass on that one and move swiftly on.

As a child I was horse mad; every Sunday morning off to the riding school and school holidays given up to helping out at the stables – the return on this being: getting to spend time with the horses and the occasional free riding lesson. Looking back – slave labour, but I was happy enough. It seemed a good return on my time back then.

My next door neighbours daughter had a pony – Shelly, a black Welsh Mountain pony. She was too big to ride being, I would image 25 at the time. The daughter not the pony. But Anne used to let me groom Shelly, sit on her back and ride her up and down the paddock bare back. I’d spend hours with that pony; it wasn’t as if I would ever have one of my own.

Now there was a manor house near by and Anne was given permission to graze Shelly there. The gardener at the manor was no other than Mr Mantle – friend Hayley’s Dad. Remember me saying that I often came up with good ideas as a child, and that sometimes things went wrong but I never got the blame. This was one of those times.

We had a lovely day, Hayley and I, riding Shelly around the enclosure she was in. She was tethered to a long leading rein which only allowed her to go so far. Well, that made life a little difficult for us so we unclipped it. A couple of hours later, we'd brushed her down and after giving her half a packet of polos as payment (horse currency throughout the world) we went home.

Now it wasn’t an ordinary enclosure and Shelly had been tethered for a reason. Yes, you guessed didn’t you? We rode over the asparagus patch. Trampled it into the ground. It took real skill as well; because I don’t think we missed any of the stick like things. Gods did Hayley get into trouble for that one – she being the eldest was expected to know better. And of course I was the shy, quiet one – so it couldn’t have been anything to do with me, now could it?