When I was a teenager I rode all the time, in fact when I was younger I actually pretended to be a horse. I trotted as I pulled my father’s golf caddy around the course, and set up cavaletti jumps in our garden. My sister used to refuse to walk to school with me because I insisted on walking like a horse. As a teen I worked in the nearby riding stables and was also fortunate to have two friends with several horses who used to let me ride them in exchange for helping to look after them. And so I guess it was obvious that a lot of people imagined I would get a horse of my own when I married a farmer. Wrong.
Although I still adored horses, I had no desire to own one, and in fact even went off the idea of riding them. And so many years have passed since I sat on a horse, although my expertise for being one was revived a few years ago when I was the pantomime horse in an amateur theatrical performance. But that’s another story.
Recently the desire to ride again struck me - I think it was from watching Poldark riding along the Cornish clifftops on the television- and I booked a lesson. It was just half an hour, my horse was beautiful, and it was wonderful. I was even amazed to find I wasn’t incredibly sore the next day. So it’s looking very possible riding lessons could become a regular part of my life again.