The first horse I ever rode was whilst I was a serving member of the RAF. Wednesday afternoons were always regarded as time off and some form of sport or outdoor activity was deemed to be 'the order of the day'. This was in 1955 when I was stationed near Weston-super-Mare.
The colour of the horse was chestnut brown but as for the animals name I had no idea. The horse owner hadn't got that far with his instructions. I think there were about eight or ten of us, of all ranks. We left the stables and the horses, obviously well accustomed to the route, skidded and trotted down to the beach. My horse decided to join the group of regulars and started galloping westwards, occasionally jumping over the rivulets that were drainage from somewhere or another. I held on for grim life but by the time we had reached the southern end of the beach, where the gallop stopped and the horses turned around, I had managed to obtain a reasonable sort of composure: that is suited to be astride a horse. I enjoyed the gallop back. I was sorry when I left that area for pastures new as there were horse riding facilities there.