In todays post 'On Horses' over at Hooting Yard Mr. Key contemplates various aspects of,
Mr. Key confesses to not really knowing very much about horses this of course doesn't prevent him from being entertaining on the subject.
Although I'm not given to examining my early youth in any great detail, Mr. Key's post nudged a couple of the delicate vases I keep my memory in.
I remembered 'Crackers' the enormous racehorse owned by the Dunbars on whose country estate my family lived.
I remembered 'Rosie' a fat, mild-mannered pony I not so much rode as sat on while she ambled about in the paddock.
Then there was this magnificent beast which I had the illusion of being in control of, in that I was holding one of the sets of reins, when I was page-boy to the May Queen in a tiny village in the Yorkshire dales long, long ago:
The significant person in this picture is the woman who actually is in control of the horse, her name was Dolly Rodwell.
Over at Hooting Yard she'd be called a Woohoohoodiwoo Woman. She was the unofficial mid-wife, layer-out of the dead (she 'did' my Granny) and newspaper delivery person.
It was the last time a horse was used to pull the May Queen's wagon.
I never knew the name of the horse.
(Thanks to Heather and Dayne for letting me have their copy of the picture.)