I've no Cowboy gene, it passed me by, it took a look, then walked on; but whilst I was away, I rode a horse. Just for a short time. There are, I realise, prettier sights to see in life than me clinging uncertainly to the neck of a strapping, muscular Mongolian horse. I know that, but you do what you do.

We plodded around in the main: up a hill, pattered along a dirt track, wandered over to meet some fellow horses, altogether nothing too awkward for the novice saddlesman. Yet, it's well known these beasts can accelerate though, and the thought was always there that if I do something I should n't then we're nothing more than a blur streaking across the Gobi Desert.

How the horse felt about all of this, God knows. Probably a good thing they can't talk as I said in an e-mail to someone.