Day I risked my life for one last ride

He was taken by helicopter to the Countess of Chester hospital, where tests revealed he had broken the vertebra in his neck in two places. Skelton was told he would make a complete recovery and that kept him going over the coming months, and especially the next five days - the worst of his life, he says.

He spent them strapped to a bed, looking at the ceiling. Every couple of hours he was rolled on to his side for 10 seconds. Skelton hasn't the words to describe how it felt. It was a relief when he was fitted with a halo vest - the type of metal brace which is clamped into the skull, keeping the neck rigid. He was sent home, and for six weeks slept sitting up.

"Early one morning in November I woke up screaming in agony,'' Skelton recalled, touching a scar on his forehead. "One of the screws in my skull had worked loose, and the pain then was worse than the break. It felt like it was killing me. We got to the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital in Birmingham at 8.30am but no one would do anything for six hours because my consultant wasn't there. When he arrived and took the halo vest off, it was more painful than putting it on.''

Still wearing a hard collar, he went on holiday with his family to Goa, relishing the relief which swimming in the warm seas brought. On his return he was due to see his specialist for the last time, simply to have his recovery confirmed. A simple formality.

"When we got home there was a message saying it was imperative I didn't ride before I spoke to my consultant. When I saw him, he told me a ligament had snapped which could not be repaired. It meant if I had another fall and there was no one around to get a breathing tube down my throat, I would choke to death. And even if I did get a tube, I would end up like Christopher Reeve.

"I was absolutely devastated. I went home and got straight on a horse. I wanted to ride, so I did and I knew it wasn't worth the risk. I haven't done it since. I got a second opinion, but the specialist said exactly the same as the first, except when he came to the Christopher Reeve part he added: 'You'd have to hope someone didn't get to you because you wouldn't want to live like that'.

"It's agony not riding. Horses have been my life. I don't think it will really hit me until I see my horses winning without me, or someone who can't do something with one of my horses when I know I could.

"I'm pissed off. But I have to face facts. I have to do something else.

"I'll train riders or go for the GB team manager's job maybe. If the danger was less, if I knew I would lose the use of an arm, I might think: 'Sod it, I'll do it.' But I'll die. So I'll never ride again. There's no point just trotting about. My job's competing, where you take risks and horses can slip over and roll on you.

"It's a tough world. I haven't cried over it. The last time I cried was in the helicopter on the way to hospital - not from pain, but from relief that I could feel my arms and legs. I remember those five days on my back. So life is good. It might be better somewhere else, but you've got to keep going. Haven't you?''