A Whitaker leg-up

IN the early days of having my own pony, I enjoyed playing cowboys and Indians with friends all atop our hairy little ponies. A tin of soup heated on the Primus stove in the tack room followed, then a hack to nearby woods.

But the one thing I really wanted to do was showjump – like Pat Smythe. Showjumping on TV was everything in those days.

Eventually my wishes came true, and I went from pony showjumpers to horses, under the expert instruction of John Lanni. I was lucky to have a lovely horse, Gilt Edge (pictured), who rarely touched a pole and qualified for the Foxhunter final. But he hated water jumps. Once at Lincolnshire Show, he stopped at the water and I sailed “over the handlebars” for a bath. I stood up, emptied my boot, looked up and there was Michael Whitaker leading my horse. He asked if I was OK, and gave me a legup. I was so shy I didn’t even say thank you!

My showjumping “career” ended in my early 20s; looking back I’m sorry I stopped. I got back in the saddle three years ago after 30-year break and it was great. The feeling was still there, I still wanted to jump. Thankfully the fences were much smaller this time.

“Riding lessons were the pinnacle of my childhood existence”

JENNIFER LEWTAS