Just a few weeks ago I found myself standing at the in-gate in my brand-new, never-been-worn, impossibly white pants, trying not to get slobbered on by a pony.

As I evaded his prehensile lips, it washed over me again that minutes earlier I’d just ridden in my first mini-prix. (Woohoo!) I had hopped off Fiona and then hustled over to the short-stirrup ring to coach Boots (our cookie-crazed, mouthy pony) and his child.