The horse transporter

KEVIN has been working as a driver for a horse transport company for 25 years. He’s taken Group One-winning mares to be covered by the Coolmore stallions, a team of circus horses from Brighton to Inverness, and endless young horses bought at the Irish sales to their new homes in Britain.

He is used to explaining — fairly gently — to anxious owners that no, he can’t stop every hour and take the horse for a graze; that no, it can’t wear those expensive padded travelling boots; and no, he doesn’t want that haynet. He can load anything — no messing about, but no walloping, either; even three-year-old uncut colts eye his brawny arms with respect.

Kevin drives smoothly and efficiently and takes the proper breaks. He doesn’t slam the brakes on and his horses don’t come off the lorry at the other end wildeyed and with cuts all over their legs. He drinks a lot of coffee and has spread rather round the middle: “I’m paid to sit on my arse, that’s the truth of it”, he says. He picks up racing tips from all the yards he goes in and out of, and his Ladbrokes account is distinctly healthy.