Country diary: Clink-clop, clink-clop, goes the sound of a loose horseshoe | Nicola Chester

Inkpen, Berkshire: In a swirl of summer dust, we pay a visit to the stables and the farrier, who will leave the horse's hooves as good as newThe farrier is due to trim and shoe the hooves of our old horses. It's an essential service. We bring them in from their retirement meadow and walk them down the lane to the stables in the dusty, sunlit corner of the farmyard.The pony jogs to keep up with the big chestnut mare; unshod, he makes a light tapping on the metalled road that belies his size. The mare clinks along oddly. Having "thrown" a shoe midweek, only three of her hoofbeats ring out, and one of those clinks, rather than clops: the distinctive sound of a loose shoe. It is a percussion that attracts attention: "Lost one, gunna lose another?" asks a neighbour, walking past. Continue reading...