Trace our present day's strength to it's source;
And you'll find that man's pathway to glory
Is strewn with the bones of the horse.
My experience of horse-riding is limited to the "tonga" rides I took as a child, at Bund Garden in Poona, and at the hill station resorts, Mahabaleshwar and Panchgani. Though I did go running at the Poona Race Course every single day for nearly five years, when we moved to one of the small outhouses, a tiny cottage on Elphinstone Road (I was told by my parents that these used to be the stables during the British Raj) which was part of a large stately bungalow. At the Race Course, I would see these beautiful horses, out on their morning rounds, and I would always try and be there before dawn, to watch the sun rise up above St Patricks Cathedral which could be seen from a distance. One of the few places in the crowded, polluted city where it was still possible to smell the morning dew on the grass, breathe fresh air, and watch the sun come up each morning. And even though many people would come to the Race Course each morning for their daily walk/jog, I would always be on my way out, just before 7 a.m. when the place got busier. So for an hour or so every morning, it was just me and the horses. I remember being in awe of these beasts, and being intimidated by their beauty. Even when I started teaching at Bishops School (a 7.30 start), I used to do my best to go to the Race Course before that, to spend time with the horses in such a peaceful surrounding.