Sarah Todd: Spring brings out the family competitor as well as the comedian

He went off in a huff after all the “told you so” to chain harrow the fields.

It was really interesting that after about 10 minutes of him firing his old girl up (the tractor rather than me) one of our neighbours was out doing the same job.

There is real rivalry – unspoken but there nonetheless – over whose fields are in the best nick.

I imagine this is the case however many acres men have. Whether a large estate or a small allotment, there’s something very British about wanting your land to look green and pleasant.

Ours ended up with stripes, making them look more like cricket pitches than pony paddocks. The pressure is now on to pick the horse muck up and keep them looking smart.

We always start with good intentions but it’s easy for the task to pile up – literally.

The next job is to roll them and sort some broken fencing rails. Some guards also need putting up around the new trees.

Among them is a horse chestnut in memory of Darius the pony and a scots pine, which seemed suitable for the Shetland we also lost.

Although, of course, the Shetland would have been first in the queue to eat them.

The day I had at the Cheltenham Gold Cup was marvellous, made all the more special with a bet on the winning horse.

It would be good to say that Long Run’s form had been studied inside out for months, but in all honesty it was his amateur rider Sam Waley-Cohen who was the attraction.

Forget chain harrowing, he spends his spare time boxing, flying helicopters and mountaineering.

But back to earth away from Sam’s pearly whites (as well as being a hugely talented rider he also owns a chain of dentists) and home again.

While I’d been away the school had run a talent competition to raise money for Comic Relief.

Our son had stood up to tell jokes – opening with one dedicated to the dinner lady (“What’s tall, sweet and French? The trifle tower”) which his big sister watched, half in admiration and the other part embarrassment.

We’d thought of him in the Guinness Village at the Cheltenham races. He’d have been the first up dancing to the Irish music.

It will be lovely if he stays this way, not giving a fig what anybody thinks. There are so few gutsy characters about these days.

Which reminds me of the young comedian’s closing joke.

“Why didn’t the skeleton cross the road? He had no guts...”