My little pony


When I was five I went to bed at night dreaming about my perfect pony. I had the pony pictures all over my room and pony books and a pony t-shirt. I knew exactly how to look after my pony as I had read ALL the manuals and the Barbara Woodhouse ‘training your pet’ books. (If google existed then I would have been source of all pony knowledge). I knew how to groom it, feed it, mount, trot, canter, gallop (in theory of course)… I knew all the tack required to ride a pony, I knew about mucking out.  I knew exactly how much it would cost to own a pony. The girls who rode ponies on our roads were my idols. I knew I’d probably never own that pony, but there was always the dreaming. And that was just as good. My parents bought every sort of pet they could afford. I didn’t get a pony. But I did get a tortoise called Racey who was much loved.

Kym has a pony in the paddock right beside her house. A pony all of her own. When she looks out her window in the morning, there is sweet, gentle Bridie waiting for her. And they have had many adventures together. Kym has all the trophies and rosettes to prove it.  She is just the sweetest wee girl to spend an afternoon with. They’re perfect for each other. I had a lovely time reliving my childhood dreams as Kym trotted around the paddock on Bridie in the late winter light and told me all about the magic of owning a pony.



And here’s a picture of me aged five, (with a bad jumper and a bad haircut) and Racey, who wasn’t very fast at all, but was a very good listener. I’m sure she was the one tortoise with the most pony knowledge in the whole country.