Five women on what their horses mean to them

I trained as a nurse and I got a loan for a horse the day after I qualified. I don't know how I managed to persuade the bank manager – even she said it sounded like a terrible thing for her to do. I worked full time and spent every free hour at the stables: I was there at five in the morning before a shift, then back again at night. Then I broke my finger and got signed off nursing for six weeks. I went straight to the yard with my finger in a splint and worked there full time. That's when I decided to leave nursing.

There are times when it doesn't feel very rewarding. Some days everything seems to go wrong – you get on a horse and it bucks you off, the weather's horrible, you get huge bills – but you get amazing highs.

I met my partner, Andrew, when he brought his horse on to the yard. We now own Biggarshiels yard and run a carriage-driving business. It takes a certain type of horse to do the funeral and wedding work. We drag them out at three in the morning regardless of the weather to help us make our living, whereas my competition horses get mollycoddled. For funerals I think people want to mark the occasion and horses tend to do that better than cars. It's very good for children at funerals. They often can't understand why everyone is sad but the horses deflect from everything else that is going on.

With all our horses, we try to keep some distance for the first year so we can sell them if it doesn't work out. If they stay beyond a year, we keep them for as long as they live. It's difficult to justify financially but if the horse has served you well and you've got a lot out of it then you owe it some sort of retirement.

ALLY CLELLAND, 41

Owner of Dasc and Bree

I got my first pony when I was 14. She was a nutter but she was going cheap. When she died in foal, it felt like somebody had cut my arm off. I gave up for six months. It's a huge grieving process. You know you'll get through to the other side of it but it's the most intense pain. I know friends who have had to go for counselling when their horse died. I have Dasc and Bree now, but I can't even think about losing either of them. I know the day will come and it will be hell.

The horses are like my children. I've had them both since they were foals, I know them well and I've been through a lot with them. I couldn't sell them. I understand why other people do – they need horses to do a job. My horses have been there for me through everything: break-ups, changing jobs, family deaths. They are a constant comfort. There's not a lot you can do other than cry into a mane, but sometimes just being with them takes your mind off everything else. You might not ride, but just to be able to groom, pat, muck out – it's a rhythm and a routine, and it clears your head of everything else.

A while back I was ill, and my husband brought me to the yard for the first time after being in hospital for a while. I patted Dasc and Bree and went home in the car smelling the horses on my hands. It sounds strange but I didn't want to wash my hands or take off my coat because they smelled of horses. I missed it so much.

There's nothing quite like being on top of a hill on a sharp winter morning with a pair of ears in front of you on full alert, right forward, as if to say, "Let's go." The wind is whipping you and the tears are running down your face because it's so cold but you're out there with the world's best scenery and it's a brilliant, almost cleansing, feeling.

I've had a couple of accidents. My first pony threw me off into a stable door and broke my arm. That should have been a sign of things to come. Dasc knocked me over and stood on my face when he was four. Bree did better: she double-barrelled me in the face and I've got a scar right across my eye.

Friends who have children say they think about the risks more. I owe it to my husband to be as safe as possible and I take precautions, but we both know it can be a dangerous sport.I have made a lot of sacrifices. I need to take holidays for vet visits, and I take the day off before a big competition to get ready. It means there's not much time for anything else. We have a standing joke among ourselves as we go to compete, saying, "Remember: this is fun," as we enter the arena absolutely knackered, having been sweating all morning trying to plait-up, only to go back to work shattered the next day. We're all in the same boat, though, and I feel I'm out there with my comrades, my equals.

TORI HAMMOND, 18

Student

I was about five years old when I first got on a horse. It was my dad who wanted me to try it because he used to have horses. I loved it from the start. When I was 10 I got my first horse and my dad thought it was great. He was always at the stables with me helping out: I'd ride it and we'd both look after it.

When I outgrew that horse, I sold her and got another two. When my dad died four years ago, I lost my confidence with everything. He had an aneurysm and it happened right in front of me and my mum. I sold the horses because there was just too much to deal with. My dad had always been there to motivate me and I didn't feel I could cope on my own. There was nobody there saying, "It's all right, you can do this." My mum is quite frightened of horses, so it was definitely me and my dad's thing.

After my dad passed away, we moved to a new place, which was pretty difficult. I didn't have a hobby and my mum encouraged me to go back to riding lessons. I loved it but it wasn't the same as having my own horse. I guess I nagged a wee bit and my mum agreed, so we got Barney. When I first saw him I thought he was beautiful. He had his head over the stable door and I stroked him and he just had the softest eyes. Barney developed a stifle injury, the horse version of a knee injury, which kept getting worse. It got to the stage where he was lame. We moved him to a field to try to give him more time but everyone was saying I was putting off the inevitable. One day I looked at him limping about and burst into tears, because I knew what I had to do. I cried for two hours and then I felt relieved because I'd finally made the decision to put him down and I knew it was the right thing to do.

I'll definitely get another horse when I'm older and have a family, but I don't feel I could replace Barney at the moment.

MARIA LITtLE, 36

Full-time mother and owner of Reggie

I rode from the age of six until I was about 13, then life kind of got in the way. I always wanted to go back and after I had my children I thought, it's time for me now. It sounds selfish but it's nice to escape to a place where I'm not just Mummy. It has given me back my identity. I do try to involve my family – the girls have their own ponies – but I realised my eldest wasn't enjoying it. We had a conversation and she admitted she only liked it because I liked it. She's drifted away from it and that's fine. My youngest child loves looking after the ponies, but she's take it or leave it with the riding aspect.

My kids will always come first but there are times when horses completely consume me. There's always a huge build-up before a big competition. A test that lasts five minutes can take weeks to prepare for. I love being around horses. I get a sense of serenity from them. I walk in at night and hear them all breathing and eating their hay and my worries disappear. I've got an hour or two for myself and everything else in the world can happen but that moment is mine, and it's precious.

When your horse gets ill or injured, it's like your whole world turns upside down. Horses are going to get hurt – it's not a case of if, but when. We've all had our turn on the yard of something going wrong. The fact there is such a strong group of us here makes it easier. You can always rely on somebody to help.

I had a bad experience with my first horse. I'd built up this dream of how it was going to be and then it all went wrong – the horse was wild. I thought I'd never sit on another horse. It's amazing how quickly your confidence can go in the horse world: it disappears like the flick of a switch. But having that bad experience makes you appreciate a good horse so much more. I've got Reggie now and he's fantastic.

People say, "You'll know the right horse for you." It's a bit like somebody telling you you'll know your future husband when you see him. A couple of times I viewed horses and thought, is this the one? Am I getting the feeling? It was only one morning when an instructor called me over and said, "You should try this horse." I laughed because he was so big. My last horse was 14.1 hands high (HH) and Reggie is 16.3HH. But he made me try. I went halfway around the arena and knew. It was the feeling I was supposed to have.

My husband glazes over a bit when I talk about horses. It doesn't stop me going on about them though – I was a golf widow for years so it's payback time. He looks at me as if I'm mad sometimes, especially when I'm up at six in the morning to see to the ponies before breakfast.

JOAN CAMPBELL, 70

Retired, owner of Daylight

I rode as a teenager but didn't come back fully until I was about 40. I didn't actually get my own horse until I retired. I've never been very lucky with buying horses – I had three naughty ones in a row. They were lovely to ride and beautiful to look at but they were a handful, and I wasn't safe on them.

I don't understand why people dwell on my age. I've ridden all my life, so there's no reason why I can't keep doing it. It's like riding a bicycle – you never forget. Horses are strong but you just have to have a knack for riding them. Horses are unpredictable and you can never fully trust them but riding gives me great enjoyment.

I know my limits. I don't jump much, and if I do it's only little 2ft jumps. I haven't got the strongest bones and I don't want to break them. I now have the most wonderful horse, Daylight. Everyone knows her as Daisy. She's not as forward-going and flighty as I once would have liked, but she's very manageable and she has a lot of character. She gets me out in the fresh air and exercised every day and I come back at night feeling great. I don't know what I'd do without her.

The best thing about having a horse in a livery yard is the social side of things. I live alone, so it's a great outlet for me. We have nights out sometimes and social events. I have fields near my house where I could keep Daisy but I don't want it to be me and my horse and nobody else. Even if I come to the yard and don't see anyone, I feel part of something.

Daisy is on full livery so I don't have to muck her stable out. It means I can do other things – gardening and things like that – without getting too tired. I can spend my time at the yard bonding with the horse. It doesn't mean I don't get my hands dirty – I go home filthy. I groom her, clean her feet out and make up her feed. I like to bring her in from the field, too.

I sometimes wish I looked after myself as well as I looked after the horse. I never say no to anything she needs in the way of treatment – whether it's the dentist, the physio, the vet or the farrier. All these things are expensive, but that's part of having a horse. If I didn't have Daisy I'd be on top of the housework, I'd cook more and I'd buy myself nicer things – but a big part of me would be missing.

Biggarshiels Livery, Biggar. Visit www.starimage.co.uk/biggarshiels or call 07770 478613.