IT’S GOING TO BE A ROUGH RIDE BY ANDREA BUSFIELD

I’m not very sociable these days, which means I’ve pretty much nailed the art of self-isolation. So, when the government restricted all movement on the island where I live, I wasn’t especially fazed – not until it looked like I wouldn’t see my horses for three weeks.

Without being too melodramatic about it, I have two horses – Lucky and Mina – and I see them every day, twice a day, for something close to six hours a day. I ride them in the morning, and I return in the evening to kiss them goodnight. THEY ARE MY LIFE.

So, naturally, when the government confined us to our homes this week, I had something of a Wuthering Heights meltdown about it.

On first hearing the announcement that people could only leave their homes on grounds of starvation or death (to paraphrase), I was all: “Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”

On trying to explain to my parents, over Skype, how catastrophic these measures were: “Mother, I am lucky!”

When they still didn’t get it: “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

And then as I trawled through the news sites looking for a glimmer of hope or some kind of mass equestrian rebellion, “I have to remind myself to breathe—almost to remind my heart to beat!”

By the end of the day, looking out of the window, watching the sun melt into the Mediterranean while wondering what other horrors we might expect from this brutal new world, I was ready to go full Catherine Earnshaw and take to my bed.

Thankfully, restrictions were clarified later that night, and we just needed to get permission to see our horses.

Of course, the coronavirus is a no-laugher matter, and it is imperative that everyone does their utmost to contain this truly awful infection. But most horse owners will know that heart-stopping, gut-wrenching fear of forced separation. The emotional bond we share with our horses is often the butt of jokes and humorous memes and the cause of much bewilderment among non-equestrians, but it is real. Horses are one of life’s true love stories.

Thankfully, Lucky and Mina are stabled at a fantastic yard, so my worry was never about their care, whether their hooves would be cleaned, whether they’d have enough food to survive the lack of apples and carrots or whether they’d get hand-walked to keep them moving. No, my concern was more to do with how I would cope.

According to my parents, who witnessed my initial falling-down rant about wanting to take out China’s exotic animal markets with an FN MAG 58 machine gun, the prognosis didn’t look great. Fortunately, within 24 hours of the Cypriot government ordering lockdown, they gave the populace some wiggle room, including a three-hour window to tend pets and animals.

Sadly, some of my fellow equestrians on the island haven’t been so lucky. Whereas my yard has agreed to owners coming to tend to their horses on a strict rotor system, to avoid as much human contact as possible, other yards have issued a complete ban.

As one friend told me, after being given an hour to say her goodbyes, “I’m crushed.”

I feel for her. I really do.

Of course, the simple truth is, if the world doesn’t get a grip on this virus, there will be greater consequences than we can possibly imagine. So, do listen to your government’s advice, and if you don’t think they are going far enough, do what you feel you must to protect yourselves and your loved ones.

And if I can give you one more piece of advice, it would be to heed the wise words of Charlie Mackesy in his excellent book The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse.

“These are dark clouds,” said the boy.

“Yes, but they will move on,” said the horse. “The blue sky above never leaves.”