The Discontented Pony.

When I was very young and still in infant's school I used to read anything I could lay my hands on. This included such enlightening sources as the back of the Cornflake's packet and the credits at the end of TV shows. I had many books but the one I remember most vividly was one about a pony who lived in a field and one day found the gate open. His curiosity got the better of him so he trotted off down the road until he came across a fairground with one of those carousels with wooden horses that children could ride. He loved the colour and glamour of those majestic wooden horses and wanted to be just like them so he jumped up onto the carousel. Our little hero pony became scared of the flashing lights, the noise of the crowd and the speed of the ride so he jumped back off and hurried back to the field as fast as his fetlocks would carry him. He resolved to be content in his field and never venture out into the big wide world again. The book was called 'The Discontented Pony'. I didn't get it.

In my childish head I was thinking ' how did he know he didn't like it if he hadn't tried it. The thought of staying in one place and never trying anything new seemed ridiculous. Clearly I was born with a more adventurous spirit than the pony and missed the point the author was making, I get the point now but I still think he was talking tosh.

Children seem to be born with certain inclinations already in place. There is a picture of my lovely niece aged about four beaming happily while holding a spider the size of a dinner plate. This is a spider of nightmares that would have grown men fleeing for cover. It didn't bother my niece one bit and she wouldn't have understood what all the fuss was about. I remember my youngest son was very upset when we got rid of our old, battered and broken three-piece suite for a plush new one. He seemed unreasonably attached to it and accused us of a heinous crime. He is still a hoarder today and can't bear to throw anything away. He's the only one in the family.

'The Discontented Pony' popped back into my head last week while I was painting the fence. Enough time had passed for me to contemplate whether I had, metaphorically, left the field. I concluded that I had although I had only
gone a few hundred yards down the road rather than to the four corners of the earth as I had hoped. Still, I can't complain as life has been quite good to me so far. I am rather hoping that I will go a bit further down the road before my time is up and my number is called. I just need to win the lottery.