& the livelier moments (point-to-point)

There are certain points of common sense that seem to elude me. For example: last Saturday at the Fife Point-to-Point (amateur horse racing) I bumped into some old family friends whose son was running in one of the races. I said I'd put money on him and they told me not to, that it was just going to be a canter around. Not to be dissuaded, and under instructions from another old family friend to put at least a fiver on, I put down £20 at 4 to 1 odds. Now, remember, the trainer, the trainer's wife and the jockey told me not to put any money down at all.

And they were right. Gillon came in third.

The less money I have, the stupider I get with it.

It was a brilliant day though - bright sunshine but a cold wind. A pony race which was sheer childlike joy to watch - tiny kids on tiny ponies hell-bent on winning, driven by comically competitive parents. For some reason I have no pictures of it. Must rectify that.

Most people have big picnics and we were no exception, bbqing and crafting cocktails to take the edge off the wind. The cold got to us in the end and we headed home at congregated in the warm Naughton kitchen for a big batch of spag bol.

As a sort of side note, the variety of punter at the point-to-point amused me. The poshest tweed-clad of the country gentry placing bets right next to tracksuit wearing, buckfast swigging, grandkids at 30 having neds is something that has to be seen to be believed. And there's everything in between as well - including eurotrash St Andrews students clad head to ankle in Gucci and whining about getting horseshit on their Jimmy Choo's.

Picnic in the chilly wind - left to right: James, Vikki, Mairi, Charlotte & Jo

Gillon leaping well, but well in third.

There's something heartwarming about a kitchen full of banter and full stomachs.