Mr. Eckersley owned the local riding stables on Wigan Road in Westhoughton, Lancashire, where I was born and raised.
He was a handsome, upstanding man with rosey cheeks, but I was always a little afraid of him, as he was quite stern. I did look up to him though (well, he was much taller than I was), but I liked him, nontheless.
His pride and joy was his palomino stallion, Morningside Band of Gold, who was simply known as "the stallion". He was kept far from the other horses in a dark barn to keep his coat from fading. He was truly, a magnificent horse, who's golden, shimmering coat, seemed surrounded by a white halo of mane and tail.
But I only had the school horses to compare him to- and they were all kept out and not groomed much - they were usually muddy and scruffy looking.
While there are some fields around the farm, the brick stable yard is situated right on the main road. I mean-two strides and you�re standing in the road. It�s the main thoroughfare between Bolton and Wigan, and quite busy, with bread vans , lorries and double-decker buses.
The riding school�s horses and ponies, would be tied to the fence that enclosed the stable yard, and were so used to the traffic, that it didn�t bother them a bit. The last time I was in England, 1997-98, the stable yard was still there, being run by Mr. Eckersley�s daughter, Sylvia and her daughter, Cheryl. (I remember leading Cheryl on her pony when she was only five or six).
They�ve added an indoor arena, for giving riding lessons in bad weather.
I was delighted to see there was still one of the stallion's sons living at the farm.  The last descendant of Morningside Band of Gold.
Times spent at Eckersley�s Farm, were without question, the happiest times of my life.
As a small child- before I was old enough to go there by myself-I would hear the �clip clop- clip clop� of the horses� shoes on the road, and would run to see them trotting by our house on Southfield Drive. A wonderful string of horses and riders- one behind the other. There could be as many as ten at a time, or just two or three. I would get butterflies and wonder what it must be like to be riding one of them?
Would I topple off? As I didn�t know how to go up and down while they trotted. But neither did most of the people I saw riding, and they didn�t fall off, so maybe I wouldn�t either?
Soon, they'd be gone- out of sight- but I'd dream about them. Till I was old enough to make my way down Wigan Road to the stables by myself. I must have been nine or ten- maybe eleven?
It cost ten shillings for an hour�s ride- five shillings for a half hour. That�s fifty pence or seventy five cents US , an hour. All I know, is that I couldn�t afford lessons.
We
only got sixpence a week, spending money - toffee money, we called it- as that�s what we spent it on at the toffee shop up the road.
Sixpence went a long way back then, there were things you could buy for a halfpenny or ha�penny, and even some things you could get four of, for a penny!
My favourites were, ha�penny licorice, Sherbet Fountains, Raspberry Ruffles and Caramacs.
But sixpence was a long way from ten shillings- even five- and that�s what it took to hire a horse at Eckersley�s. So I volunteered my services as a � leader� for the children who couldn�t ride by themselves.
We walked for miles, up and down Wigan Road, down Southfield Drive- our house was number 31 on that street and I hoped mum and dad would see us going by.
There were about four or five of us girls. Angela Southern, Janet Barron, Susan Ashton , Olwyn Evans and me.
All over town we�d go, trotting some of the way. That used to rub my heels raw, as my socks wouldn�t stay up in my wellies (rubber boots). But it didn�t stop me. Even in the winter, when fingers and toes would freeze, there we were, leading horses through the streets of Westhoughton, knowing - at the end of the day- frozen fingers and all, we�d be riding one of the horses back to it�s field!
How lucky we were, if their fields were a mile or two away.
We�d ride them bareback, with their halters and a rope tied to each side so we had steering. Down the main road- oblivious to the hazard of cars and lorries- that came so close you could nearly touch them with your feet! After a year or so, I was considered, part of the gang at the farm and was allowed to ride some of the new horses that hadn't been tried out yet. Little did I know, some of them were only two or three years old and had never been ridden. But were so 'poor' that they didn't have the strength to buck- although, I did get bucked off a few times, I always jumped right back on.
I didn't care how big they were, if it was a chance to ride, I was taking it! After I'd earned my stripes- so to speak- I got to ride more and more. Also, as I got older, I did odd jobs to earn money, like babysitting and dog walking. That job - I loved- and had many dogs in the neighborhood relying on me
for their recreation. The babysitting was pure hell, but paid better than the dogwalking.
Some weekends there were festivals or fetes to go to.
Mr. Eckersley would load up the horses and take them, to give rides. There was 'Pedro', a small, stawberry roan pony- 'Freddie Fudge',an even smaller, very sweet pony-
'Dolly Daydream', a larger, black pony. And, 'Mandy', she was the star of all the school horses, such a 'giving' horse, a big chestnut roan mare, who always had her mane shaved or 'hogged' and looked like a trojan horse. She more than earned her keep. Then there was 'Flame',a big grey mare, who I rode whenever I could. We won many gymkahna ribbons together,at Bolton Show. In fact-as I later found out- thanks to Susan Ashton writing me while I was away working at Ashendon Farm, I had won the Bolton Show Gymkahna Cup the year before I left home. Susan had seen my name in the local paper, but I never did get to see it or the cup.
Janet had a horse of her own called 'Shandy', a golden-dunn mare.
Sylvia always had the best horses though. Hers were usually kept in one of the barns and were always 'fit' or at least frisky!. 'Irishman' was a tall, dapple grey gelding of hers, who I loved. We called him "Sheamus" (not sure of the spelling but pronounced "shaymus")He looked like a carousel horse and had a canter like a rocking horse.
I got to ride him and even jumped him a little. Another one of Sylvia's horses was, 'Bodie', a big chestnut gelding.
Oh, and there was 'Lisa', a sway backed, bay ex-racehorse. She was fast and did not like double decker buses.
The horse box was a big red lorry, used to transport the horses to fetes and auctions etc'. It had a huge wooden ramp for them to walk up. Inside, there was a large shelf area up front, for the saddles and hay nets, where the �girls� would ride.
Driving to the fete, we'd sing. � We all live in a red horse box , a red horse box, a red horse box� - to the tune of � Yellow Submarine� Ah, such happy times...... <><><><><><><>
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