MUCH as I’d like to blame growing up in the cultural wasteland that is Slough for my lack of equestrian experience, it wasn’t like we’d never heard of horses there. Somehow, the opportunity just never arose. I wasn’t one of those girls who went around whinnying and flicking my ponytail anyway.
Until now. This stuff’s great! Having seen my ad (see Day 10) on the noticeboard of our local train station, good sport Rachel introduces me to Ed, who looks at me impassively. He’s a pony, rather than a horse, but that’s okay – he can be my inbetweener. I nearly vault right over him when I climb on, though.
Ed seems to understand English and responds to pretty much everything, not just “whoa!” and “shit!” These things really bounce, don’t they? At first it seems I have a faulty pony who is making me bounce double time, but soon I get the hang of it, with a two point trot, a standing trot and a squeal-ridden canter for about 0.5 seconds.
Keeper? Move ’em on, head ’em up, rawhide! (Yes.)
View from the driving seat. That's right - NO HANDS!
Hey man, now you're really living 
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