Whilst I was concocting my own (unauthentic) version of spaghetti and tomato sauce for dinner tonight I was thinking about two quite disparate things on my wish list – my desire to speak Italian and my fancy to own a horse. Perhaps you imagine that I want to be in a “Spaghetti Western”? Not really, not unless Luca Zingaretti (who shares my birthday) or Cesare Bocci  are in it; they are my favourite Italian actors from ‘Montalbano – The Italian Detective’, the brilliant subtitled detective series.

Quite often, when checking my blogsite statistics, I see the Italian flag of my solo Italian blog reader (I guess it is the same person). I can almost hear the happy notes of the Italian National Anthem (Inno di Mameli (Mameli’s Hymn) and I have a little thrill as I envisage Luca or Cesare dipping into my blog to see what’s on my mind. It has never occurred to me that my Italian visitor might be the mother to one of my heroes! Ah non importa. Amo tutti i miei seguaci! (Google has just helped me to learn a bit of Italian – I love all my followers!)

Now about my wish to own a horse… I can just imagine what Chris would say if I told him…

– “But you aren’t even a horse-person!”

– “How dare you say that! Horse-riding used to be my favourite sport!”

– “Yes, when you were a little girl. When did you last ride a horse?”

– “That’s beside the point, my interest has been revitalised and I want a horse.”

– “Since when?”

– “Since last Friday, when I was farm-sitting…”

– “Sally, did you see that handsome young farrier again?”

In truth, I did see that gorgeous farrier who I met last year when I visited Mary on the farm (see my old blog post entitled “Lady Chatterley’s Lover?”). Sadly, being on the farm and not expecting to see anyone except for old Tony, who wouldn’t mind how I looked (he likes buxom women), I was dressed for farm work and painting. I wore mauve knee length pants, a pink short-sleeved top with a yellow dress over the top, and over the top of that I wore one of my mum’s aprons. If that wasn’t odd enough to behold I also had on socks and trainers. My hair was in a high pony tail and I had two pink flowers in my hair. Make-up? Not much – the animals’ love is not so shallow. On reflection I think looked a bit peculiar – darn it!

I remember I was looking for Malachi, who had disappeared, so I left my painting (I was working on my latest commission) and walked up to the stable. A van was parked outside and as I approached a male voice called out:

“Hello Sally!” the smiling familiar face beamed.

“Oh!” I suddenly felt self-conscious, “I wish I had dressed less oddly.”

“You look fine – just like an eccentric painter,” he said and he gave me a kiss.

“I hope your wife didn’t mind me writing that blog about you,” I queried.

“My mother was over the moon,” he laughed showing his perfect set of white teeth.

Well, that was a week ago. I hasten to add that I’m not one of those frightful “cougar” women I have heard about – the older women who prey on young men. I’m happily married and it wouldn’t occur to me to go for a younger man, no matter how handsome and charming (even if he had to wear those sexy chaps every day). No, I definitely don’t want a new man, I just want a horse….