You want to know about the horse show, don’t you? Alright then.
I walked into a tent by accident to hear a violin and piano ensemble play, while Alan Titchmarsh closed his eyes enraptured in front of an audience of ladies’ hats and tweed jackets.
There you go. The Royal Windsor Horse Show was that kind of thing - don’t get me wrong - lovely, elegant, beautiful, posh, all the things you’d expect. But also, that. Like a festival of a subculture that I don’t need to be convinced is not my own.
We actually had a really good day. I joke about the horse world, but to be honest, it was actually jolly nice to be there. In the arena we saw show jumping - elegant horses and riders gracefully leaping over fences, dressage - an extraordinary art form that just about seems like the most difficult thing you can do on a horse, and the display by the Azerbaijani horse riders - who actually did do the most difficult thing you can do on a horse by acrobatic stunt-riding at terrifying speeds. It was most exciting.
To cap it all off, we watched kids partake in the pony club games, which everybody absolutely loved, especially the excitable ponies, and then stayed for the king’s artillery troop. They raced around ceremonially with cannons in tow, and then they set them off in a salute - brilliant. Unbelievably loud, but brilliant.
At the end of it, we trudged back tired and happy through the great grounds of Windsor Castle. There above the round tower, the royal standard flew, indicating that the king himself was there. We didn’t see him. Edward was in the Royal Box, certainly, and Sophie, so His Majesty was at least represented.
What’s more, there, just a few seats below the king’s brother, eyes closed in serene reverence, was Alan Titchmarsh. Of course he was.
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