When he returned home, Lollo and Eva duly jacked in their advertising business, bought the farm and set up Sweden’s first proper Western ranch.Not that Lollo is your typical cowboy. Though he has the requisite weather-beaten face and bandy legs, he also displays a telling preference for low-alcohol beer and spends much of our time out on the trail gently philosophising. “Look at the colours, the browns of the horses against the green of the grass I love it,” he says as we trot through rich summer pasture. On a later ride he muses about the levelling effect of riding on the guests. “You’ll see everything from a Porsche to a rusty old VW in the car park but, once their owners are on a horse, everyone’s equal.”Eva, who keeps Jultorp running smoothly – and doesn’t ride – is a little more pragmatic.

After spending a night under the stars at a Montana ranch 13 years ago, the freedom of a life where you don’t have to wear a tie, polish your shoes or wash your car every week proved too attractive to resist. “You’re on one of our fastest horses but he won’t go too fast if he feels you aren’t an experienced rider,” explains Lollo, reassuringly And he doesn’t, even at a gallop. As we ride through high grass, past birch forest and picturesque red-painted farms, Red Cloud doesn’t once get stroppy – and nor do I.”If the horse smiles and the rider smiles, then I smile,” says Lollo, with typical enthusiasm Jultorp is the realisation of his dreams. From using different bits to asking your horse to perform with subtle cues and increasing or decreasing your speed using only the position of your body, the idea is that you learn to work sensitively with the horse rather than forcing it to do what you want.”They’re not motorbikes,” says Eva, pertinently.

“Before we decide who will ride which horse we try to find out a little about their personality and match them up”.Trying out a quick lesson with Lollo the theory certainly seems convincing. As I climb on to Red Cloud, a gorgeous red and white appaloosa, and follow Lollo out into the surrounding fields, I feel unusually calm for someone who has only ridden a handful of times. Evolving on cattle ranches in the American West, after being introduced by the Spanish vaqueros in Mexico, the obvious difference with Western riding is that the reins are held with one hand – and used much less. Instead, you ride using your legs, weight and, crucially, your mind.Lessons at Jultorp take place in a large, indoor arena, an outdoor arena and in the bucolic surrounding farmland that Lollo and Eva have landscaped with lakes and a rustic camp. The idea is that you can get a taste of Western riding without going all the way to the States, or come here to gain a few skills before booking a longer American ranch holiday.To its fans, the consensus is that Western riding is more natural, and kinder to the horses, than the traditional “English” style. Jultorp is technically a riding school rather than a ranch, although the home-cooked communal meals, two saloons and roping lessons give it the feel of a working farm.

This is the place to come if you want to join a fun but intensive three-day Western-style riding course, rather than book a holiday with a bit of riding thrown in. Add a smattering of tumbleweed and a couple of cheroot-puffin’, gun-slingin’ outlaws and it could be a scene straight from John Prescott’s dreams Except that this isn’t Texas It’s Sweden. And the two people dancing next to me are called Stefan and Lotte. “Jultorp Ranch – only 16 hours from Montana” is the slogan at Sweden’s premier Western riding school, and it pretty much sums up the local philosophy. They may, geographically, be an hour outside Gothenburg but owners Lollo and Eva Nilsson have created the closest thing to a traditional American ranch this side of the Atlantic. A herd of animal heads, eagle motifs and sepia-effect photos decorates the walls and, among the guests, cowboy boots and big silver buckles are so ubiquitous you wonder if they’re obligatory.

Jultorp is so close to the would-be ranch-hand’s fantasy, in fact, that it feels more convincing than the real thing – the ranch I visited in Arizona a few months ago didn’t have saloon doors, a trumpet wake-up call or “Achy Breaky Heart” playing in the bar, for a start.
There’s just one thing missing – cattle. To the left of me, a man in a stetson jams his thumbs in his belt loops and stamps a beat on the floor. To the right, a woman sings along to a remix of “Saddle up My Pony” as she twists her hips back and forth, cowgirl style. In front, a wagon-load of wheels are stacked up along a wall and, outside, 27 horses are corralled for the night Welcome to line-dancing night at the Buckin’ Barrel saloon. First holiday memory?

Butlins in Filey We used to go a lot when we were kids. My mum would put me in for all sorts of competitions, which I never won until I was about eight when I won “picture of beauty and health”.