I was out running today near some gallops when I saw a couple of racehorses being exercised. They were trotting up the bridle way towards me so I stood to one side until they passed. "Thank you", called out one of the stable hands, "it's good to meet someone who understands horses". Truth is I only know to stop running because I once got shouted at for not slowing down. It has since been explained to me that racehorses are very excitable and nervy and running at them in a hi-vis jacket is ill-advised as they might just decide to throw their rider and trample you to death.
My track record with animals is a pretty poor one as it goes and it started from a young age. It began with an incident with a red-setter called 'Rusty' who I thought had the most beautiful tail. I decided to stroke it and was alarmed to discover that instead of enjoying the feel of its silky red hair, I got a hand full of poo. My failure to understand Rusty's body language meant that I had failed to notice he was "going for a crouch" as my friend explained through