Lose an hour of sleep? Spring ahead. What the hell is this?
Ah, I’m usually on an overnight flight to Cheltenham when this ridiculous occurrence occurs. You basically lose a night’s sleep, the hour lost in the shuffle of international travel. Land running, energized by what lies ahead. Highclere Lunch with the Bakers Sunday. Early to bed. F Fresh and ready for Stratford or Plumpton Monday (we once did the Plumpton/Kempton Monday double) and a relocation to some manor house – amazing how many friends the Bakers have who live near Cheltenham in the Cotswolds by Monday evening. Quiet pint or three in the Horse and the Dog or the Hare and the Hedge Monday night. All while digesting and deciphering the form for Tuesday.
Alas, it’s very different this year. Sunday barn chores, a languid drive to Rehoboth Beach tomorrow and a few special days with my parents and my sister. No regrets.