Barking mad at an unwelcome visitor

WE canter the youngsters up a lovely hill field on Menston Old Lane near the yard. We took two four year-olds in recently who were learning to work together cantering next to each other.

Dad's field adjoining has a footpath running up the side of it and is popular with dog walkers. This particular morning we were steadily cantering round on the youngsters when a large dog shot under the fence and thought it looked great fun to join us in our work out.

The owner stood, stick in hand, watching slightly bewildered. "Roger," she shouted timidly, "come here boy…good doggie that's it."

Roger took no notice. Not satisfied with merely joining in, Roger wanted some fun of his own. A swift nip to the horse of Cathrine, my groom, saw Roger granted his wish. A bronco demonstration ensued for 30 seconds before Cath was catapulted from the saddle, landing heavily. Roger was delighted and set off in hot pursuit of the terrified youngster, who had set off for home bucking and kicking in panic.

His owner stood by the fence. "Mummy's here, Rogerrrrr…oh dear I hope he's all right? He's so timid, mistreated before I got him you know.." I was sitting next to the winded groom who was moaning in pain and looked at Roger's owner in astonishment. "I only brought him out here to do his toilet business as I have no doggy doo bags left," she said.

Unbelievably I refrained from venting my disgust. Cath had no such reserve, furious at her lack of sympathy, she let rip with both barrels.

Eventually we made our way home and passed Roger slinking back across the field with his tail between his legs. He realised his fun was over with the sight of a stable lass brandishing a shovel in his direction.

I enjoyed an entertaining night out with an avid point-to-pointing fan recently, Bradford MP and member of the Yorkshire Point to Point Club, Phil Davies and his wife Debbie. He came to visit my yard some years ago on a very cold wet morning. After a tour of the gallops and an introduction to all the horses we headed for the comfort of the kitchen to warm up. My dad Peter soon peered through the door, itching for an introduction. He then bent Phil's ear for 30 minutes about single farm payments. I knew he'd had an ulterior motive when mooching round the yard all morning.

A week later Peter was delighted to receive a very official looking envelope with a Houses of Parliament stamp. It was a promise from Phil to bring the matter up at Prime Minister's Questions. Peter was so happy he stuck it up on the notice board at Otley cattle market the following Monday.

How embarrassed was I when I handed my colours in to the valets at the races recently. I had mistakenly packed them straight from the washer, not realising a pair of my three year-old son's Thomas the Tank Engine underpants were attached. The blue Y-fronts were held up in the weighing room to a bunch of amused jockeys. "New man a bit younger than you is he?" remarked one. "I'm surprised one of you hasn't claimed them yet," I smugly remarked hiding my embarrassment.

A top class day's racing is on the cards tomorrow at Sheriff Hutton Point, courtesy of the animated Mick Easterby. Watch out for David's maiden runners, they like to have plenty of winners on their home turf. I fancy my boy in the Ladies if he goes, On Y Va is in good form. Hope to see you all there. It is in aid of Yorkshire Air Ambulance

and unfortunately I am a regular customer.

Yorkshire champion lady jockey Jo Foster trains horses at Brookleigh Farm, Menston, West Yorkshire.