Polo Sunday

I woke up at around 7:30 AM on the floor at Caragh's house in Cambridge. It's a handy thing about living in England, that the sun rises so early these days that it just wakes you up pretty readily. Admittedly, 4.5 hours of sleep was quite a bit less than I would have hoped for, but sometimes that's all you're gonna get.

I caught the 9:20 AM train back to London, and actually caught up on quite a bit of this blog, as you find when you have a computer with no internet access, sometimes the only thing to do is write.

Got home, showered, and I was absolutely exhausted, but I could only allow myself 20 minutes to lie down and close my eyes, but of course I couldn't really fall asleep in that short a period of time.

So I got up and got together all of my polo gear, and made my way to Fulham Broadway to meet everyone to go play. Met Fi, who had played with us last week, and two new folks: An older guy named David, and a younger guy named Ryan.

Turns out that David had rented a Streetcar (one of those cars you can rent by the hour), but the previous guy hadn't returned it in time, so we had to make our way back to Earl's Court to find another one. Yet soon enough, we got ourselves all packed into the car and on up to the polo grounds.

We actually arrived early, so we instead went to a local pub, located right on the river, where we sat drinking lemonade and watching the boats go by. Ryan turned out to have an incredible interest in photography and had brought along his camera, so we spent some time just chatting and passing the time.

I learned that David had just started dating a 35-year old woman who worked at the perfume counter at Harrod's. Sophie gently teased, "Well she must be spectacularly good-looking then". It was kind of funny, as along with David's protests that he didn't know how serious it was (although he was going on holiday with a girl he'd been dating only 3-4 weeks?) you could tell that he was probably more into her looks than her intelligence. After all, Sophie at least gave him credit for dating a 35-year old, saying that many of the girls he dated were much less age appropriate... (I later figured out that he must be around 38-39. Yeah, dating girls in their 20's isn't exactly the way to go...)

We then went back to the polo grounds and got mounted up. They gave me a pony who apparently used to be a high-goal polo pony, named "Carerra." After playing with her for a bit, I could absolutely believe that she used to be a high-goal pony, as she obviously could run like the wind, and turned on a dime. It was truly a pleasure, much like I imagine driving a high-performance sports car. At times almost a little bit scary (she could almost run away with me until I used my legs and seat to slow her down, the reins were useless), but I could imagine that she would be fantastic in a chukker. I could definitely feel bits of my old favourite, Parrera, in her, so I tried to ride her the same, but couldn't quite figure out how to leave the reins quite as loose. But a true pleasure to ride.

At the very end of our time, we played a quick five-minute chukker, and I could definitely feel the magic of that pony, as we turned on a dime and ran after people and the ball. I was surprised actually at how well Sophie and I played together, backing each other up and calling out our plays to each other. She needs to be more consistent with the ball, but it's definitely a good playing relationship.

After we dismounted (hot and sweaty, of course!) we then went in to get some beers. Chatted with people in Spanish and English, and after a few beers admittedly I relaxed into the conversation. Talked about our various clubs, and the merits of each.

Then as we walked back down to the stables, I somehow ended up just mildly flirting and joking with Ryan. I mean, he's 22, it's not happening, but he's so self-confident and charming, it just seemed fun to play off of it. So we were, bumping hips and standing too close, smiling and just enjoying that...what was that? Chemistry? Oh yes, I've experienced far too little of that lately. I suspect this guy would have chemistry with ANYONE (his stories about seducing 18-year old public school girls in nightclubs had me in hysterics) but it was just a nice reminder of what chemistry is supposed to be like. Later that evening they sent out photos from the Inter-Club quiz, and I saw some shots of the guy I gave my number to. Seriously? I'm not sure what I was thinking at the time, but not calling was definitely the right move. I don't think I could have even pretended to be attracted to that guy, much less have chemistry with him...

We then drove back to London, which was a fantastic drive. We cranked up the radio and ended up singing along to everything from old classics to new Katy Perry stuff, it was like brilliant road-trip music.

Also, I finally felt like I found my voice and was able to chat with Sophie for a bit when we were at the gas station. Now, ever since I met Sophie, I've liked her. In fact, I'll confess that there's a bit of girl-crushing going on. She's loud, effusive, and seems to have a magical ability to charm everyone around her. I was surprised to learn that she spends most of her time single (although recently has started casually dating a 28-year old guy), and that she's 33. Are you serious? I had upon meeting her thought she was much younger than myself, 25 or perhaps 28, but no way would I have put her at 33!

Then, the more we chatted, the reason I like Sophie so much suddenly dawned on me: She's basically me. Always dating younger guys, almost fanatically outgoing, underpaid at her job and hence always feeling short on cash despite living a lifestyle that requires it, knowing tons of great guys she's not attracted to, the kind of person that everybody likes yet nobody dates. Hence, it was almost a bit alarming to see where I'd be in 3 years. Admittedly living a fabulous life (she's out all of the time, and as I noted everybody likes her) but you still wonder if that's quite the thing...

When we got back to London, we hadn't had enough fun, so we walked to a wine bar somewhere in Kensington, where Ryan pointed out to me that although we were dirty and sweaty, we were perfectly dressed, given that everyone there was going for the equestrian style that we already had. It does help to actually play polo when everybody else is just aspiring to look like they do.

I spent most of my time talking to Dave, mostly about growing up in North America, I think. You could tell that he was somewhat unhappy to be standing around in this overly-expensive wine bar, and just wanted to go get a cheap meal. Yet, when we left to go to the pizza place where we supposedly had a table, they were closing. And as we wandered elsewhere, other places were closing too. So Dave decided to go home. But then, just after he left, we found a pizza place that was open, a rather charming place too. So the four of us remaining sat and had a great meal, just laughing and yakking it up. Once again, I'm always amazed at how nice and friendly polo people are, and this evening was no exception.

It was after midnight by the time we left the restaurant, and I think I finally made it home somewhere around 1 AM. I definitely fell into bed that night!