After all, look at Keira Knightley's Guinevere in the film King Arthur. She fights with the boys, bravely leading the British tribes into battle against the nasty Saxons. Fortunately, unlike Keira, I didn't have to slap lashings of woad on my face - just a bit of make-up to hide the red spot on my nose for the photos. But, unfortunately,
I had no chance of snogging Clive Owen or having loan Gruffudd fall moonily in love with me. Oh well.

First off, though, I had to have a go at simply riding a horse. I hadn't ridden since I was a schoolgirl. collecting copies of Horse And Pony magazine and displaying the purple rosette I'd won at a gymkhana (fifth place) on the mantelpiece.

So when we arrived at The Knights Of Middle England Riding School in Warwickshire, where we were to spend our day being medieval, I set out my stall pretty quickly.

"I want a pony;" I told Karl, the proprietor who already had something of the knight about him, being dressed in full-on medieval garb. `The oldest, slowest, laziest pony that you have:'
Karl didn't seem too impressed by my lily-livered attitude - it wasn't very heroic, after all - but promised me a nice horse.

I was imagining something along the lines of the podgy ponies in Thelwell cartoons, so when I clapped eyes on my trusty steed I was slightly alarmed. Talk about getting on your high horse - I had to climb a set of steps to clamber onto him!

And then there was some worrying confusion over my mount's name. I misheard when Karl introduced us and thought it was Sprint, which sounded a bit of an active name to me. No, I was assured, it's Springs.

When it came to practising riding the horse I was excited that my rising trot - moving up and down in time to the horse's rhythm - was a great success.

All those riding lessons 20 years ago had paid off at last! Then, after lunch, it was time to dress up. And it was as I pulled on my chain mail tights and velvet tankard that I realised that I didn't want to be a knight any more.

Knock me off my horse !f you want to Germaine Greer, but I wanted to be a princess - or even a lady in waiting.

I suddenly had a sympathy attack for poor old Keira. What's the point of having King Arthur for a boyfriend if he expects you to ride into battle with him? Not very chivalrous at all.

It was bloody hard being a knight - trying to stay on board Springs and hold a flag, a shield and a lance while mummified in layers of metal. Definitely men's work.

As for the jousting - well, I think old Arthur would have binned me pretty quickly if he'd seen my skills with a lance.

At one point, something went wrong and I conked instructor Paul on the head. He fell to the floor, but when he struggled to his feet I asked him, with some trepidation, if he was OK. He smiled and said "Yes, m'lady."
At last, chivalry! Perhaps I'd found my Sir Lancelot after all.