To coincide with the wedding of Tonsley veteran and all-round good egg Mr. Robin Bowers to his US belle Maureen, Pedro and myself journeyed out to the good old US of A.

Our trip to Cleveland Ohio to proudly participate as groomsmen was a whistle stop visit, arriving at about 4pm on the Friday and then leaving at about 4am on the Sunday, but it was a joy be apart of fat Robbo's day if only to hear Pedro being introduced at the reception - in a boxing promoter's drawl - as "Mister Peeeeeeeetttteeeeeeeer Boooollooock!". Not sure Pete found it quite so funny.

Having managed to squeeze in two knees ups, two hangovers, four meals and one wedding into the preceding 36 hours, the two of us then flew to Denver from where we were to travel to the Colorado Cattle Company ranch.

As we made our way from Denver on the shuttle bus, we introduced ourselves to the other guests. On first inspection, things looked promising. Four girls plus the two of us makes six…. And a little more if Pete was lucky!

Amongst the merry throng were two fellow Brits called Dana and Tamsin. From Honiton in Devon, each had rather generously given their other halves permission to visit Las Vegas for the corresponding week prior to being re-united in San Francisco and then spending a week in Hawaii. That sentence rather sums up these two. They were rather… well… corking actually!

The group was made up by Ruthie and Coreen who were both American and lived somewhere "up norf", as we say in Staffordshire. Both were also great fun.

Both Pedro and myself had come here to ride horses across the rolling savannah, herding cattle as we went. Not for us Falaraki beach with its bright red sunburnt bodies and vomit washing up on the morning tide. Oh no, instead we had gambled all on a week's stay at a Cattle ranching farm a few hundred miles east of Denver, Colorado.

The brochure had promised a full-on experience, with none of the usual touristy short cuts. It promised to turn us into real cowboys, bow legs at all. But would we cope? Well, we had both been a bit nervous about it, especially as neither of us had ridden much before. However surely, on a holiday like this, we wouldn't be the only ones with a "limited" experience of horse riding and there were bound to be other mad fools who were willing to sit on a horse shouting "Yah!", while holding the reins between white knuckles and sweaty palms…. weren't there?

Well no actually there weren't - as we discovered at dinner the first night. As Penny (the owner) slowly went around the table asking for the level of our experience with horses, it fast became apparent that everyone in the room, bar us, had seemingly sat on horse prior to learning to walk!

Where as my "Well I have ridden for a few days here and there" was met with concerned shakes of the head, Pete's wonderfully optimistic but (with hindsight) hopelessly inadequate answer of "well I rode in Argentina for a couple of days a few years back" was met with the odd gasp, tuts and comments like "You mad buggers!". It seemed that the ranch and its marketing material might have met its match this time. Especially if they seriously expected to turn these two lads from Staffordshire into anything resembling gymkhana going ten year olds, let alone gnarled old cowboys!!

I would like to think that over the next five days, both "Prairie Pete" (as he became known) and myself proved them wrong. Although Day three was a little painful in the derriere and Day four started a little later than it should have done, both of us improved massively on and off a horse.

The days were filled either herding cattle; pairing young and old; searching for the (apparently) missing bull or checking the fences. In between we would primarily eat, drink and chat.

Whether it was with Frank midweek or Bill at the start, we were always escorted around the farm and shown how to do what we were supposed to doing. Both chaps would then join us for drinks afterwards and entertain us with anecdotes of their past.

On the final night, on Bill's suggestion, we decided to travel out and visit the local town's Bull riding competition. It had been mentioned to me at the start of the week and I soon tipped off Bill that this sort of event would appeal to Pete's competitive side.

"Sure he would" I kept to reassuring Bill as he questioned my proposal, "but he is just very backwards in coming forward when it comes to these sorts of things!"

I had wondered whether he had remembered, but when we arrived the joke (for that is what it was!) had grown and as Pete talked to the two old gents on the entrance gate, he was asked whether he was the Peter Bullock from England. The same Peter Bullock who was down to ride "Armageddon" ("but hey don't read too much into the name" they said).

Part way through the bull riding the under five year olds were invited to take part in a spot of "Mutton bashing". Kited out in cowboy boots and hats like their fathers, the youngsters took it in turns to be sat on a sheep and then timed for the duration that they can remain on it. The skill comes from being able to hang once the sheep is kicked out of the starting pen. With sheep going this way and kids going the other, it made entertaining viewing.

At the end of the riding, we all retired to the bar to hear the beautiful Kelly J sing. Having made a meal of just how much I thought of her, I was happily surprised when I saw her moving towards our table. Having been tipped off that her biggest UK fan was in the house, Kelly (I feel that I can now drop the "J") was keen to meet me, hear about our trip, ask how her records were selling in the UK and enquire as to whether I would be happy to start a London branch of her fan club.

With signed CDs and posters held tight to my heart, I then watched as she returned to the stage and dedicated song after to song to her little "Woolfy from England". If I was her biggest fan in the UK, then she seemed to be my biggest fan in the US.

Alas that was almost the end of the trip and the following morning, we drove back to Denver and caught the plane home.

It was a great trip. Prairie Pete was at his best, while everyone we met along the way proved that that fool called George W is the exception not the rule, with everyone in both Ohio and in Colorado proving to be immensely helpful, wonderful company and great fun.

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