By the fourth day, Jack had got the hang of driving on the wrong side of the road, and of making himself understood — initially believing, mistakenl..., that everybody spoke the same mother tongue. To compound communication problems, dialects changed as he moved through one county to the next. But he was loving every minute, despite the quirky customs and unavailability of decent steaks or bourbon. He finally arrived at his Devon destination, where he was cordially welcomed at ‘Ye Old Stump Inn’,. My brand had healed and I was being treated well considering that Iwas just a pony. This was obviously a training stable for racing ponies andI was being prepared to race.One day I was being hitched into the shafts of a two horse chariot. Neitherof us could see each other as we were both blinkered and chained intoposition, our arms sheathed behind us. Only allowed to look forwards throughnarrow slits in our blinkers we were set off to a racing start by rapidslashes of a whip on our buttocks. More

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