I marvel once again at how easy I am to read.
“You really love horse-riding, don’t you?” my mum asked today, with a hint of astonishment for she herself keeps an arms-length away from “those creatures”. I admitted so half-sheepishly; I too can’t fathom how a born and bred city kid like me could have developed such an esoteric interest. But well, there it is. Apparently the moment I get on a horse, my face lights up, and it’s unlike with any other activity I do, where I’m happy but not positively radiant. Not tripping over myself to do every little thing, to savour rolling up my sleeves, getting down and dirty.
“We usually don’t accept people… but if you’d like to work, maybe- Hm let me give you my website and contact.”
I swore my heart skipped a beat.
My good sense wars against my optimism, adventurous spirit and naïve fearlessness – the latter is a heady mix indeed. 6 months, 85 dogs, 7 horses, the midnight sun fading to eternal twilight, and no electricity? Nothing to add to my CV, no sellable skills, no connections made?!
I hesitate – and I think it speaks volumes about my upbringing/ the society I’ve lived in that it is the second line which gives me pause, rather than the first. And yet, impatient anticipation and excitement shifts me restlessly, fills me with wonderment, contentment. Nothing else makes me hum like this. My mum already approves, albeit with some confidence that I won’t see this through. I guess we’ll see!
This slip off the beaten track better not prove too disastrous.