Dear Diary,
Where to start with my news?
For as long as I can remember, the word “big” has always been used about me; my eyes, my feet, my manly physique, my rugs, my shoes, my vets bills… the size of mother’s arse…
But there’s two things that have been bigger than anything else – my heart and the size of my dreams.
Since the very first time I surged over a jump and showed that I may have feathers but I can still fly, I have always ascertained that your background, your breeding, your supposed skill level (to be clear here, I do mean mother – my skill level has NEVER been in question) – none of it should be a barrier. No matter what anyone else thinks. If you want to be an eventer, then you should be an eventer.
To this end, I have for years pointed out if the powers that be in British Eventing could move past what I always believed to be old fashioned featherist prejudices, they would realise that here, in the UK (by way of a field in Ireland and some very questionable ancestry) was the greatest equine asset the world had ever seen.
Only a few weeks ago I was lamenting that while they may have now selected their team from the crème d’la crème of eventing talent (I would have frankly been the cherry on top of the crème, let’s be totally open – even my highly experienced mate Mary would tell you she’s never ever ridden a horse like me), there was still a role for me as Chef de Squeak. I have, as I pointed out, an impressive coaching record and can offer insight the likes of which a two-legged Squeak cannot, even one with a really cool name like Wellbrilliant.
Now, I know that you all agreed with me and said some lovely things, but I think if you’re all honest, you might have been humouring me? Kind of like when people tell mum she can ride? Well boo-shuck peoples, you should have had faith…
Because…
Drum roll please…
Guess who rang the other week?
Go on guess?
You will never guess…
BRITISH EVENTING!
Just let that sink in – BRITISH EVENTING rang ME!
And they have offered me an incredible role.
Of all the peoples and all horses, in all the world, they have asked me to be the official supporter mascot for British Eventing at the Paris 2024 Olympic Games.
THE OLYMPICS!
The actual real life Olympic games. Like properly for real – a proper job with British Eventing on the biggest stage on earth.
Sometimes dreams do come true – you just have to believe (oh, and have a very large social media hoofprint, have written eight books, be a philanthropist of a scale just short of the Gates, have an international reputation as horse of the people and boundless talent, but other than that anyone can do it…).
I spent last weekend getting ready and French-ified – I rather like my beret, although I fear it may make me even more irresistible to women – and am all set and raring to go.
I shall be supporting our British Eventing team, coaching them on how to ride the cross-country, guiding them on the showjumping (do NOT eat snails the night beforehand – we do not need a wind risk that could knock poles) and counselling them on the horror of stressage (just shut your eyes and dance like no one is watching).
I’m also helping to show the world that eventing is accessible to all – and to the snooty woman in the car park at some qualifiers many years ago who commented: “My god they let carthorses event these days” – who’s laughing now, missus?
I have my own roving reporters and not one, but THREE Hovis Hashtags (if nothing else tells you I am now where I’m supposed to be, then a Hovis hashtag is it) for you to show your support. These are #HovisInParis #HovisWithUs and #HovisHereToHelp
In addition, the British Eventing hashtags you need on your radar are: #BritishEventing #BeWithUs #HereToHelp #BritishEquestrian #abondlikenoother #Paris2024
Be sure to also check out my Facebook page.
Peoples, I am away to take my place on the biggest stage on earth – I luffs you all, please follow my adventures for this once in a lifetime opportunity and remember, no matter if you’re feathery or flighty, all terrain or thoroughbred brain, don’t let anyone stand in the way of your dreams.
Laters,
Hovis
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