It's been a long time since I first went out on an assignation with a real member of the opposite sex, but I seem to recall that running around a field with my sexual desire only too plain to see was not an option.
Maybe things have changed since the 70s.
Or perhaps I shouldn't judge Shetland ponies by the standards of my inept early attempts at courtship.
Yesterday Merlin (3ft high, but with an ego the size of Champion the Wonderhorse) went off for the first time to "meet" a couple of Shetland mares just down the way from us.
Mrs Pig "Farmer" pulled out all the stops, got the brushes and gave the lad a groom-and-a-half - even adding baby oil fercrissakes. With that and the surfer, highlighted look in his mane, what mare could resist?
There was a snag. Remember when you had to turn up at a school disco with your big, dopey mate? Remember when you were the big, dopey mate? Merlin had a "plus-one". . . Teddy.
Now, don't get me wrong. Ted is a fine looking lad, especially now that he's completely over last year's bout of laminitis (look it up) that would have had him staring down the wrong end of a gun had he lived pretty much anywhere but Pig Towers.
Ted is in the finest of fettle - a mini-version of the winner of the 3.30 at Haydock last week. Only thing is, he's not good on his own, so he had to go too. Oh yeah, and he's a gelding.
Still, the ladies seemed pretty pleased to see Merlin and Merlin was very, very pleased to see them. So pleased the bloody thing was bouncing along the ground.
Ted, bless him, was left cantering along behind, happy to be easily the biggest horse in the field, but looking like he'd rather be somewhere else.