Rupert Isaacson was told his autistic son, Rowan, was “unreachable”. But a positive encounter with a horse kickstarted a journey that is now benefiting many others.
Rupert Isaacson and I do not get off to a good start. I am grumpy because I’ve spent ages looking for him in his hotel and getting reception to call his room, finally running him to earth in a dark alcove in the bar. He is wearing jodhpurs and butch leather chaps, which in a slick hotel in the centre of London looks a tad pretentious – even if he has been riding that morning. I suggest we find somewhere with a bit more light so we go to the upstairs dining room and start the interview, which sometimes sounds more like a lecture. “What you need to understand is this …”; “What your readers have to realise is …”
