When I was a teenager. I part loaned Billy, when the term “part loan” hadn’t even been invented.  Aging Billy would plod along with me, very safely but without much speed or style, much to my disappointment. We explored the local areas and had adventures, at a rather sedate pace.

When working as a research associate at Edinburgh Vet School. I rode anyone’s horses who would let me.  I fell in love with. Geordie  A successful racehorse who was convalescing after a leg injury, I was tasked with bringing him back into work.  “Work” was a term we would loosely use.  I would ride him out, he would spin round and run to wherever he wanted.  I was merely a passenger.  A rather scared passenger.  Unfortunately, after a long time, he could not be guaranteed sound enough to race again and he had to be euthanised for the owners to be able to collect the insurance money.  A heart-breaking lesson for me that some people find money more important than the lives of the animals they are supposed to care for. And that there is nothing I can do to stop it.

I had wanted a horse for my whole life, but it wasn’t possible.  However, once my daughter Annabel was old enough to be “horse mad” and we found a trekking centre in North Wales who let people have their horses over the winter, my dream could finally become a reality.  Taffy, a cob with odd-coloured eyes and fluffy feet, of a colour which defied description (can horses really be tricolour lemon?), taught us all about looking after horses through a cold winter and hot summer.  Sweet and kind, but with his own idea of how to behave, he enchanted all who met him.

A jet black cob with impressively fluffy feet, Lily came with Taffy as a trekking horse, for the winter but she never went back.  The centre allowed us to buy her (but sadly not Taffy) and we had such fun.  Always up for anything, except schooling in a circle – Lily never saw the point of that.  

I have lovely memories of family picnics and days out with kids, dogs and horses.  Galloping on the beach.  Hacking home with Ed aged 2, sitting on the front of the saddle with me, he fell asleep after a long day.  Everyone we knew, from my neighbour, my mother-in-law, friends of my children, everyone had a go at riding Lily as she was so kind, gentle and patient.  She would plod along doing whatever she wanted whilst people thought they were getting her to do things.  It wasn’t the horse experience I imagined, but it was an idyllic one.  Lily is buried in our field. Sleep well, gorgeous girl

A small tri-colour pony, Tracker needed a home and we were more than willing to have him.  A self-opinionated boy who taught Annabel to respect horses, especially their back legs and teeth.  Cute and cheerful, Tracker was a character.  Always up for a gallop, but never to jump, he won lots of rosettes at local shows for being a “Bonny Pony.”

A stunning Andalusian, Clari was the most perfect, kind, safe horse ever.    She took me round courses of jumps at local shows.  We didn’t go high, but together we flew.  We loaned her from a friend and we never got over having to let her go back.

A striking chestnut mare, Seven has always been the sweetest, easiest horse to handle on the ground, contrasting with the energy and bounce when ridden.  Bought for me, a horrible fall lost me my confidence.  Seven eventually became my daughter’s companion, keeping her safe and happy accompanying her for her four years at university.  It was funny, once we found out that Annabel had a place at university, we had to wait to find out if Seven also had one.  Fortunately, she did.  Packing up to get them both back to university after each holiday was a major challenge.  How many rugs can one horse need?  And do they all have to be professionally cleaned and reproofed every time?  Seven is currently on long term loan locally.  When we go to see her, she wanders over and blows kisses to me before mooching off in search of more interesting grass.

Cae came to rescue us after my fall from Seven, before Annabel was proficient enough to ride Seven.  an Arab x Section D, Cae was a stubborn, safe horse who believed he was a pony.  We wanted to get our confidence back, but found that as our confidence grew, so did Cae’s.  Annabel and Cae jumped their way around so many shows and farm rides and Cae progressed so much that when we met the lady we bought him from a few years later, she didn’t recognise him and refused to believe that he was the same horse she had sold us, after he out-jumped her horse at a jump clinic.  Wonderful Cae, you would potter around carefully with me, never putting a foot out of place, then gallop and jump anything that Annabel asked of you.  You were fantastic, Cae, thanks for everything.  Wish you were still here.

A fantastic Freisan, but Bliss was as grumpy as she was stunning.  Dreadful sweet itch meant that she couldn’t enjoy life to the full.  Dear Bliss, we loved you but I don’t feel it was as mutual as with most of my other pets.