Mike Loades, my charioteer from Kirkcudbrightshire, wasn't fazed but the ponies, Freddy and Joey, are more used to Berkshire fields than choked London highways and they weren't happy. By the time Freddy had trotted to the Mall he had had enough, and bucked wildly. Nothing Boadicea didn't have to deal with, I thought, and Mike and I clung on, marvelling at the chariot's suspension. Freddy's mood recovered in front of Buckingham Palace, and he trotted through the Hyde Park traffic like a dream.