I wasn’t one of those kids that
wanted a horse.
I grew up in London,
people didn’t have horses.
There was this one girl, though.
Maxine.
She lived round the corner.
And I’m not sure if she actually
owned a horse, but she
definitely loved them.
I think she went horse-riding quite often.
She had a big bedroom with
pink walls and magazine cutouts of
horses taped all around them.
I haven’t thought about Maxine and her
horse fascination in quite some time.
In fact, this is probably the first time I’ve thought of
Maxine and the horse-thing since I was about 12.
And that was 24 years ago.
But right now, I’m in the countryside and I
keep seeing horses.
Sometimes, I drive past one and
do the country lane car-horse dance.
Going ever so slowly, so it doesn’t
buck its owner off, in fear.
Other times, I’m on foot.
This morning, I got close to one and
it seemed so serene.
I thought: maybe I’ll move to the
countryside
and get a horse.
But I probably won’t.
