I don't remember a lot of my childhood in England,
But I do remember the trip to Mother Shipton's Cave,
A small cave,
A small wishing well,
I was perhaps 10,
I wished for a horse.
Looking back I can now see that my wish was for a different life,
Countryside and horses,
Instead of school and the 6 o clock news.
I went searching,
I left home to study at 18,
I had fun,
I forgot about my golden palomino.
Time moved forward,
Two years hard work and loneliness in Durham,
A job with no joy,
A year on Crete
Two years in London.
I had everything now.
The profession and money,
A flat in cool Camden,
But still I went searching, this time to Australia,
A Kombi in Perth,
A flat in Balmain,
A friend who rode
He died yesterday my lovely horse.
He was 29,
He was well and then he died,
Just as I had hoped.
A horse is not a house, car or mobile phone,
A horse is a different life,
countryside, Akubra, Bush Aussies
Camp fires, Billabong swims.
He was not a Golden Palomino,
He was a bush horse, a stock horse,
He was free to a good home,
He was 4 years old,
He was weekends in the
countryside with my husband and horse riding friends,
He was a wonderful escape, just the two of us gone bush,
He was family walks,
A child on a horse, 2 dogs and a picnic,
A special lunch spot among the trees, a fire,
summer a billabong swim,
He was a camping holiday like no other.
He loved crisps, dates and cheese sandwiches,
He was a gentle horse,
A special horse,
He led me to a different lifestyle,
A better life,
His name was Banjo.
Now you make your wish, you don't need a cave, a wishing well.
Wish well my friend,
Make it happen...