Before one of my kinsfolk from the hippy-dippy era of the ’60s points it out to me, yes, I do know that the title I have imposed upon this bit of scribbling is a song title crafted by Kenny Rogers and the First Edition. My hair isn’t so long as it was when we ran down the streets of Chicago with the Weather Underground in 1964, but not a lot else has changed.

No, I am not about to burst into song. Rather what nearly caught fire were the two (now saved and lovely) loaves of Irish Soda Bread which – without a smidgen of humility – I display in the photo accompanying this article. You may note (depending upon the quality of your eyesight and the resolution of your computer’s monitor) that flanking the loaves are badges (you US type folks call them “pins”) replete with the logo of the upcoming World Equestrian Games.

What’s that I hear rumbling back there in the peanut gallery? “What, in the name of a gracious God, has Irish Soda Bread got to do with this premier competition in the world of horse sport?” A very good question, may I say.

As I was accumulating items which need to fit into my luggage for the upcoming trip, it struck me that one should not come to a party empty handed. As there will be too many of my sister and brother equestrian journalists gathered at Aachen to make it practicable to bring craft-brewed beer or fine wine or some other comestible, I settled upon Grandma McCormick’s ever-loving recipe for soda bread. Thus, two loaves, fresh from the oven, about to be popped into freshness-saving bags, and thence into my suitcase.

Lucky folks who are being treated to the wonderful coverage of the games courtesy of Dressage Daily AND who will be in Aachen should keep an eye peeled (oh, go ahead and be bold…keep both eyes peeled) for a big, ugly guy in black cloths perambulating the show grounds. Catch up with me and there is a good chance I will still have some of Grandma’s bread to share with you. If you are a bold baker of bread, I can even provide you with her recipe!

Which is my typically long-winded way of saying that I am as thrilled as the next little boy or girl to be attending the games and that I look forward to filling the interstices left by the other Dressage Daily contributors as we offer our several perspectives upon these games.

With a bit of luck, lots of hard work, and a carefully placed word or two in the ear of my Boss (that’s with a capital “B”) the next thing burning may well be the US teams as they tear up the track in Aachen. A tasty thought, isn’t it?