Mr Jones and the horses

Before there was Mr Jones, there were horses. Beautiful lovely horses. They took up my weekends and my evenings and they cantered through my dreams. When everyone else was getting married and Mr Jones still refused to put a ring on my finger - I ran off to become a cowgirl (yep that's me in the hat). And if I hadn't been quite so in love with him I probably would have stayed to round up cattle on the pairies for the rest of my days.

Mr Jones doesn't care all that much for horses - they don't have engines. I got him on one once. It was when we first started going out and he was still trying to impress me. He whisked me away for a weekend near Bath and we went riding one day. Problem was, I went in the advanced group and he got stuck with the beginners. I laughed at him because he had to wear pointy jodphur boots (in those days he always wore skater boy trainers - so it was quite a fashion departure for him) and they struggled to find him a hat to fit his lovely big head. He's never been back on since.

But I've just found this - horse riding on the beach in Cape Town. I can't think of anything I'd love to do more. So Mr Jones - will you come with me, just this once? I promise not to laugh or canter off into the sunset leaving you trotting behind me.