When we walk to buy a reasonably ('overpriced') sandwich at lunchtime, there's a house on the way and in the front window is a rocking horse. The curtains to this house are never closed and we can never see anybody inside the house. All we can see is the rocking horse. We think it is probably some sort of spooky remnant of bygone woes which comes to life at midnight as it is joylessly ridden by the ghosts of children who died grisly death in a nearby Victorian orphanage.