Horsing Around

‘Our nearest riding stables are almost an hour away, and aimed firmly at the bounce-in-the-saddle-with-a-borrowed hat holiday brigade’

- Clare Mackintosh

Where does North Wales hide its horses? In six months here I haven’t once encountered a horse and rider on the roads, and our daily dog walks yield nothing but sheep, sheep, and more sheep.

Coming from the Cotswolds, where you’d be wise to anticipate equines around every blind bend, this is quite an adjustment. Nine-year-old Evie is distraught. A year of riding lessons in Hook Norton saw her taking to the saddle like the proverbial duck to water, with a natural seat and an affinity with her steed that I’m not sure I ever had. When the big move to Wales was mooted I confess I didn’t give a thought to the proximity of stables, assuming that - as in the Cotswolds - we’d be spoiled for choice. It is the countryside after all, and for me the countryside means horses. Alas, not so in Snowdonia, where our nearest riding stables are almost an hour away, and aimed firmly at the bounce-in-the-saddle-with-aborrowed-hat holiday brigade.