A long love affair which shows no signs of fading

Take a man in reflective mood, a man at a time of life when the natural impulse to look back is still evenly balanced by the desire to look forward, and the conversation is liable to chart an unexpected course. Malcolm Jefferson pushes his flat cap away from his eyes, the better to see the situation.

It's a fine day in Norton, the calendar telling us spring is on the way and the blue skies of North Yorkshire confirming it. Horses walk across the neat, compact yard, third lot back from exercise, shining with the vigour of youth and health and hard work, and although at 70 Jefferson can't compete on that front the gleam in his eyes tells its own story. His gaze moves steadily from horse to horse, his mind moving off at a tangent.

"I've always loved horses," he says, a faint huskiness in his voice. "I could happily sit and just look at two horses in a field. I breed a few, and I can stand and watch them for hours, the mares and foals, the young ones.