Speaking of Gypsies

A few years ago we met Basel, a Welsh stallion. He pulled our Gypsy wagon for seven days through the most beautiful countryside in Wales, Great Britain.

Basel is a prankster. He was supposed to have been hitched to our Gypsy wagon this morning. Instead, he jumped the fence and joined a group of riders. It was raining and he was covered in mud from head to foot.

It was springtime and Basel wore a different bouquet of flowers every day. We walked by his side. On a downhill grade I had to go to the back of the wagon to help brake the speed. At the bottom of the hill, Basel would always turn his head towards me and tell me to join him up front. Carrots were in my pockets and under my hat. He always found them.


We cooked, slept and ate in the wagon. Every morning, much too early, Basel would rock the wagon with his hind quarters. He was ready for oat griddle cakes. I wore a different gypsy outfit every day. We stopped for a picnic one day. Soon a car came by. When they saw us they gathered their children, Gypsies are known for stealing them you know.

First day out. Basel really has white stocking feet, you will see. When we stopped to check our map Basel would nudge our back, as if to say "I know the way".

We had a map. It was marked with our nightly stopovers. We paid the Farmers 3 Pounds so Basel could enjoy the Spring grass. He also had "magic pellets" in the back of the wagon. He knew how to open the box so he could serve himself. He loved the magic pellets more than anything . . . . but he knew of a garden that had little green peas growing. We caught him just in time. One foot was allready over the fence.

We walked over 70 miles. It was hard to say Good Bye.

Gina