Five hundred feet below me the rocks of the Sierra Madre mountains appeared unforgiving, the guide called out, ‘It’s okay the horse knows where it’s going.’ I decided to leave my fate in the hands of a Mexican pony and sat back in the saddle. Eventually we came to a clearing by a stream and there was a picnic.  Many hours later, with buttocks safely back in the bar, I finally realised why cowboys walk the way they do .

Later that evening we found a seat in the bar and I made yet another discovery; cowboys stand at the bar in saloons. This bar had a TV I’m not a fan of TV’s in bars, it was stage right so we sat stage left.  I say sat;  I tried perching on my hip, but this made me look like male model with hemorrhoids; at least here I could see the…