It is a dull and miserable Sunday afternoon in November. A cutting wind blows from the south-east, bringing with it showers of icy rain. The one ray of sunshine lies in the fact that today is little Craig's birthday, and he is two years old. Craig is the son of Spuds' friends Chris and Norma, and he has developed a passion for horses that nobody can explain, but is of an intensity known to all parents of young children. He lives in the middle of Bristol, so he certainly hasn't grown up surrounded by animals. Norma suspects that the little lad has spent far too much time watching the racing on TV with his grandfather, but this can not be proven.

One equally miserable day a few months ago, Norma was about to leave her work, and expected Chris to collect her. The phone rang; it was Chris. "I'm afraid I won't be able to pick you up love. You'll have to make your own way home."

"What's happened?. Where are you then?"

"Cheltenham"

"What on earth are you doing in Cheltenham, and where's my baby boy?"

"He wanted to see some horses, so we've had a day at the races. He sat on the rails watching them go by, and loved every minute of it. He's won a bit too".

Spuds arranged for Craig to meet me, and to have a ride on a tiny pony named Kipper. Kipper is claimed to be so bomb-proof that mines could go off under his feet and he still wouldn't throw his rider. Norma came loaded with a big bag full of carrots, so that made her a lovely lady in my view. Spuds showed Craig how to feed us safely, and we obliged him by eating everything he offered us. It was easy for him to feed me because I'm big and young; my lips could gently remove the carrot from his hand. Kipper, on the other hand, is about 25 years old, and his teeth stick out at quite an angle from his much finer mouth. He was unable to avoid pinching with his buck-teeth, but fortunately not enough to hurt.

Craig was fitted up with a hard hat, and placed on Kipper's back. He was very uncertain at first, but as soon as Kipper moved forward he settled down. Once he realised what was happening, he broke out into a broad grin, stretching practically from ear to ear. He was led for only a few hundred yards, but he loved every second. Once they returned, Spuds showed him how to pick out my feet and fit my saddle. Finally he was lifted all the way up onto my back, from which height he looked down with great uncertainty.

Craig now has a rocking horse and two other toy horses. He has named them all Branston, and he regularly feeds them bits of carrot, much to Norma's distress. Also to Norma's distress is the thought that in the future she may be committed to keeping a horse at livery, unless she can introduce some other all-consuming passion into Craig's life.