Am not at my bright mental best today, husband and self having set the alarm for 1.00 am to watch the cross country. All of it, in its entirety. Despite now feeling like the little ghoul at the end of Buffy who staggers across the screen going "urgghh, arghhh," it was worth it.
Mary King nearly finished me off entirely when she had an interesting take off at the Pagoda fences, but goodness, did she do well. So impressive, as were the Germans (lovely Marius) and am only sorry that Lucinda Fredericks on Headley Britannia didn't do better. It's on BBC here.
Intend to sever all human contact when the showjumping is on (which is, I can guarantee, when my family will think to themselves. "Ooh. Horses on tv. That reminds me. Haven't spoken to Jane in ages. Must ring! Now!", and also when my children will develop crises of mind-boggling intensity which must be dealt with NOW - where are their trainers, most like.) Shall retreat behind my own Chinese wall of answerphone and uncharacteristic, unmaternal snarling.