Horse encounter

I've always been afraid of horses - and of all big animals. The only time I've been in a field with a horse, I was supposed to control it, and there was no way I knew how to do that. So when I had the chance to visit an equine therapy centre near Gillingham in Dorset last weekend, I took it with both hands - and a quaking heart.

There are four horses at the centre, all living on the fields and cared for naturally and lovingly. I approached the field, and was relieved to be told not to touch or speak to the horses - to find another way of meeting them. I wandered round the field, keeping my distance. The horses munched at the grass, taking no notice at all. Others in the group who were less wary seemed to be having a great time. One woman lay down on the grass and a horse nuzzled her.

Near the end of our time, Merlin was pointed out to me. I'd avoided him - the biggest and blackest of the horses, the head of the herd. He was in a corner of the field, his massive legs planted on the earth like ancient tree trunks.

I went over. He carried on eating, occasionally looking in my direction. I squatted, then sat on the ground, dwarfed by his size, fixated on his legs which could crush bones in a moment. I kept sitting. He began to move towards me, and ended up eating grass around my shoes, gentle, sensitive, controlled. Tears streamed down my face. I lifted my hand and touched his face. Merlin and I seemed to meet.