After a good few years of watching my daughter learn to ride, the opportunity came along this week to learn some  stable management for myself. Billed as a social event and taster as much as anything else, I thought it would be a good excuse to get out of the flat.

With that in mind, I dragged t’other half out with me last night. She wasn’t quite kicking and screaming, but with the beginnings of a migraine, she was having second thoughts.

In a whirlwind of tools, brushes, cloths and assorted ironmongery that would have had Torquemada reaching to take notes, I cleaned hooves, brushed manes and tails.

I also learned that this particular horse, who went by the name of Nelson, was a bit of a drama queen. We also discovered that he liked being brushed down so much he’d nudge me impatiently each time I stopped to clean the brush off.

We’ll be back next week to see how much has stuck, and then might sign up to do the whole course. If nothing else, being able to tell prospective employers down the line that I’m also a qualified riding instructor has a certain shock value appeal that puts a smile on my face.