I scrape at the carrots to make leathery peelings revealing orange flesh that takes me back to the teeth of a horse.
He was a dozy old horse that had about as much grace to his movements as a circus jalopy.
I can see him now nosing at his salt lick. Never thinking to strain at his tether as the master looked on wearing a tweed coat that might have been stolen from the music hall.
The master of the horse had a crystal ball that helped him to see into the future.
I don't know where these insights got him but I'm pretty sure he's still out there now and doing alright. I'd also wager that he doesn't wear that coat any more. It was just a passing phase.
As was the great idea of owning a clumsy old horse.
If I could see him now I'd tell him that I've seen ice, felt sun. That there's a fork in the road and I want to go down each one.
In other words, I'd like to tell him that not much has changed really.