Tuesday, 22 November 2016
This letter brought back memories of the trip in Wales to the fore front. My huge 'pony' was a white horse named Shane. He always wanted to challenge the horse at the front and very often I would be forced into a gallop as he raced for first position. I would be pulled through trees and have branches whip across my face, end up on high verges looking down at the riders below and be flung onto the wet sand whilst cantering across the beach.
The owners of the farmhouse were dour and unfriendly. Each morning at breakfast we would be faced with a jug of sour milk that would stay on the table until it had been used up. I resisted the food and resorted to eating a slab of pure sugar Kendal mint cake in the bedroom.
We sometimes walked down the country lane to the local shop. The air was pungent with wild garlic.
I won a rosette for my riding skills but was too shy (see letter above) to go and collect it in assembly so never received it.
I can't imagine a teacher today would write such a personal letter to a parent. 'Yours, through a haze of smoke and fat tummy's' referred to the fact that the teachers were both pregnant and heavy smokers too. How politically incorrect by today's standards!