by Alice Chivers
It was a beautiful day as me and my two best friends, Kirsty and Hen, hacked our way across a corn field. I was on my little bay mare 'Lady Leigh' - now a retired professional show jumper. Kirst was on Taffy - a cheeky bright bay welsh cob, and Hen was on Natarnia - a beautiful ex polo and race horse. Natarnia was much bigger than Lady or Taff, and much more elegant. Her long, floaty, limbs carried her rider with ease, her Thoroughbred ears pricked in excitement.
We wound our way back to the track and reached a long straight next to a road leading down to the beach. I can't remember what happened next, I just remember flying along faster than I had ever been before. Taffy was in front, with an excited Nat behind. I was next to them, urging Lady on. I remember laughing out loud and looking at my friends smiling faces as we raced along. Then, towards the end, Taffy threw in a cheeky buck in Natarnia's face, but she wasn't hurt - just a bit put out. By now we were slowing to a canter then a trot and finally a walk, after we had caught our breath back, Hen told us that had been her first gallop on Natarnia.
A year later, Natarnia kept on going lame and she could not be ridden. In the end she had to go away as there was no life for her at our stables any more. Henrietta might have lost Natarnia, but I will never lose the memory of her first gallop.
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