When we lived in Gib, the unit was so small that we were incredibly family orientated.

I did some stupid shit. Abseiling down the Rock. Water-ski-ing. Pot-Holing. Art School. Darts Team. Squash Team. Wives Shooting Competition. Wives Football Team. Gambling in the Casino. Dolphin Hunting. Sailing Course. Day out in Seville. The Death Slide at Mijas. Shopping at the Market in La Linea and haggling with North African Traders.

And a bit more stupidity.

But – probably – the MOST stupid thing that I ever did was take advantage of a day out without the kiddies and sig other and go Horse Trekking in Andalusia.

I’ve no idea where we ended up. I just remember being terrified from start to finish and coming home with the BEST ever black and bruises on my inner thighs, from knee to don’t go there!

Aha. Where is this going?

Well. We were presented with a fully tacked horse and a guide and just went riding.


The best bit of the day was the end as dusk was falling, in the mountains, eating a Spanish Stew of Lamb and veggies and chickpeas prepared by the guide’s wife and mother.