JUST after World War II, a local girl with two Shetlands and a horse taught me to ride, then I rode weekly at a riding school in exchange for mucking out. I became friends with Janet Baker there, and when she outgrew ponies, I took them on.
We rode bareback in a headcollar, no hats – maybe a headscarf – and would head off for the whole day with our satchels and snacks. Or we'd hack miles to local shows, ride one lead two, do every class from best turned out to the gymkhana events, and hack home with our rosettes.
I got more into showjumping when I rode a friend's retired grade A, Poet's Gold,
