Black Beauty

Next was break me to harness. First, a stiff heavy collar on my neck. Then there was a bridle with great side-pieces called blinkers against my eyes.

Then there was a small saddle strap that went under my tail: that was the crapper.

I hated it, it stopped me having a crap. I never felt more like kicking so I kicked him in the goolies and they swelled up like melons.

He had to put the harness on me while balancing his balls with one hand and could only move very slowly.

In time I got used to everything (and he got used to swollen balls) and I could do my work as well as my mother.

I used to wash up after dinner. Yes, I was a very good horse.