Unlike Anna Sewell, who wrote Black Beauty, I do not know the early days of Gingerbread. She came into my life one hot, dusty August, after a friend had told me how, while he waited for the London train, he gave his lunch to a thin little chestnut pony living by the railway station, that always seemed hungry. I decided to investigate and found a small, bony but very pretty 10 hand chestnut mare in…
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