Pony tales

I was pony mad as a girl, and the 'Jill' books by Ruby Ferguson were my passion. I read them so many times that I can still quote chunks of them even now. These are my original copies, and I still treasure them. I never did have my own pony, but I had riding lessons and holidays, and I looked after a local farmer's naughty welsh pony during my teenage years.
I've ridden on and off over the years, but not for a very long time. Yesterday, I had the opportunity to go out on this lovely horse:

The invitation came through the local magazine: Lynch Farm Riding Centre offered me the chance to try one of their pub rides in return for a review. Spirit was my mount  (this is him tucking into his lunch.) He was a very steady chap indeed, despite being only seven years old. The highlight of the trip was a canter across a long green meadow. It didn't last for long, but all the familiar feelings of exhilaration came rushing back and I remembered exactly why I had been pony mad all those years ago.