Horse riding
I first started riding in the mid-1970s at a farm in the Chilterns where my childrens grandmother, Janet., ran a livery and riding stables. But I had wanted to ride since I first saw The Horse Soldiers (with John Wayne in the lead - who else?) as a child. Horses - as well as riding - are now a permanent part of my core psyche; I feel right when I am around them - much as with dogs.


I have now ridden in many parts of the world. The photographs here include me (beardless) on Little John at Lodge Farm (top right picture), a great-hearted animal, now sadly, deceased; in the Larzac in southern France leading two horses (photo on previous page) during a mountainous and amazing 175 mile week-long trek.
Then (picture left), there is me and Laura recently in the western Algarve in Portugal. To name just a few other places where I have ridden: the Middle East - where, long ago, I raced a horse (Abla) around Petra using just a bridle and no reins at all; in Hungary, in Ireland in many locations.
In Wyoming I rounded up sheep and then cattle (and Laura showed her mettle and what an amazing seat she has). In Spain there was Excalibur (the horse). More recently, I rode Pasha (the magnificent) in Portugal, an Lusitano giant (left) who gave me the ride of my life - to date. He and I knew each other from the moment we first met. He ran away with me just once, for the rest of the time we were brothers. I have never ridden a horse quite like him; but then he had come back from the dead (diagnosed with terminal cancer, he survived).
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