Taking control

As so often, the commuters of Cobham were treated to the sight of me disappearing down Old Lane on the back of a reversing horse. There is always a rational explanation for this behaviour, and on this occasion the horse was impressing on me that she didn’t much fancy going to Effingham Common today, thanks very much. She clinched her argument by threatening to throw us both into a waterlogged ditch. As we teetered an inch from the edge, we reached one of our usual compromises, which is to say I gave in totally and allowed her to turn herself around and head for home at breakneck speed.

By this time the traffic was backed up all the way down Old Lane to the Black Swan and, despite the inconvenience, the looks on the drivers’ faces, from what I could make of them as I flew past, were entirely pitying.