Blue sky sulking

It's been a relatively quiet Saturday, but there's no harm in that. I was thinking just now that you know that you're getting old (and over-worked) when you're sitting alone at the dining room table at 7.30 on a Saturday night working through the accounts, but there you go. So I might as well follow that social highlight up with a brief chapter here. Anyway, this morning was glorious: a slight frost, but when the sun got up, it found itself getting up into a cloudless sky. It soon warmed up - but then mid-morning saw clouds materializing, which wasn't so nice as it kept it cold. Still, we've certainly moved on seemingly months in the past fortnight, bearing in mind that it's only two weeks since the temperature got down to minus 16. Which is all the more remarkable bearing in mind that I note that on Thursday afternoon we hit a high of 18. Amazing, isn't it: minus 16 to plus 18 within 12 days? Anyway, here are a couple of shots of the best time of the day, which was between 9.00 and 10.00. The Flat seen beyond the Cambridge Road AW, as viewed between Ruby's ears; and then Karma Chameleon and Ethics Girl having a pick, courtesy of Terri and Hugh, after their exercise; a pick of something which, if this lovely spring-like weather keeps up, will soon be grass. It's good to get a photo of Ethics in as her corpulence is a constant source of bewilderment and amusement. She's such a little porker that she always looks very round, but it doesn't mean that she's fat: she must just have big (albeit short) bones. And, anyway, I was very pleased to have my first viewing of Frankel of the year when I got to the top of Long Hill AW on Thursday morning (which itself was good as Kadouchski had gone up there so relaxedly that I knew that he was ready to run very well) and I was amused/taken aback to see that the best horse/second best horse (delete as applicable) in the world is currently even fatter than she is. So that's good.

Anyway, just a couple of observations from today's racing. Firstly, the salutations go to the connections of Junoob. This is the Haafhd horse with whom Amy Weaver did so well, buying him for 3,500 out of John Dunlop's stable in October, winning two claimers with him and then having him claimed for something like 12,000 only six weeks after his arrival. Her association with him was clearly a profitable one, but it turns out that I was wrong to have asserted at the time that she had got the best of both parts of the transaction: owner Alan Solomons and trainer Tom Dascombe are to be congratulated on his impressive Listed victory at Lingfield Park today, having clearly bought extremely well (just as Amy had done). On a less congratulatory note, I feel that it's worth remarking on the Racing Post's childishness. As we know, the day's main meeting always occupies the centre spread of the Post. Well, nearly always: today we had Newcastle (total prize money 84,000, no Graded or Listed races on the programme) taking prime position with Kempton (total prize money 189,000, three Grade Two races and one Grade Three whose total prize was worth more than the entire card at Newcastle) relegated to one of the lesser slots. Was this an unintentional oversight? Well, I suspect that it was deliberate. You see, today was for 20 years or more Racing Post Chase Day at Kempton. This year it seems that the Racing Post had decided no longer to sponsor the feature race - and, it transpires, the paper's new rival, Racing Plus, stepped into the breach to sponsor the feature race (which you'd hardly know existed now, from the lack of coverage which it received through the week in the Post) plus the Grade Two Pendil Novices' Chase, plus a handicap hurdle. This, surely, must have been the catalyst for the Post's bizarre layout today. If so, whoever within the paper's hierarchy decided upon this petty move deserves a good kick up the bum - or at least to be put in the same category of pettiness as Huntingdon's food-and-beverages-consumption commissar. The Post clearly feels that Racing Plus is competition - but the correct way to react to competition is to act professionally and with dignity, carry on doing what you are doing and, if possible, raise your game. It is not to act in this sulky manner. Kempton, its sponsors and the Racing Post's readership deserved better than to have such an excellent meeting denigrated by racing's principal newspaper. Oh, and by the way, once I realised what the Post was up to, I went back into town and bought a Racing Plus. It's a good paper and it includes editorial by both James Willoughby and Nick Luck, which really means that it has become obligatory Saturday reading henceforth.

A very nice day

From the way they've been doing things at home, you'd never guess that, racing on consecutive days off almost exactly the same rating, Kadouchski would go very close at a Grade One track while Dr Darcey would make no show at probably a Grade Three track. But, as Dean and his friends would say, that's why they call it horseracing. Kadouchski, as you'll probably have deduced from that opening, ran a terrific race at Sandown today. That, allied to another very clement afternoon, made for a lovely outing. The balminess probably, though, wasn't ideal: Kadou's two course and distance wins (including in this race last year) had come on heavy tracks, which really bring his stamina into play, while today's race, with the ground close to good, wasn't able to play quite so much to his strengths. How he'd have fared if the weather had been wet earlier in the week is pure conjecture, but that's by the by: we can't complain as he ran a terrific and terrificly genuine race (again) to finish a good third. He was aided in this by a very sound ride from Joe Akehurst, who did exactly as asked and gave the horse the perfect trip, designed to do as much as we could do offset the disadvantage of the conditions not being as taxing as we'd ideally have chosen. And it was impossible to mind not winning when the race produced the first winner which Nick Gifford has trained since the passing of his legendary, universally-respected and massively popular father. Nick had come extremely close to the winner's enclosure in a valuable steeplechase at Ascot on Saturday and I'd enjoyed shouting at the TV as Tullamore Dew and the badly-underused Liam Treadwell came with a run there, so I certainly wasn't unhappy to see his charge salute the judge today.

Where is Esther Rantzen when you need her?

Well, I'm glad that I didn't allow myself to get too confident before Dr Darcey's trip to Huntingdon, because he posted another very tame effort. I couldn't help myself handing over 20 pounds to a bookie who had him at 33/1, but it transpired that that price, which I'd thought to be hugely over the odds, turned out to be far from generous. He compounded very rapidly once he came under pressure, so the head-scratching goes on with him, I'm afraid. Still, that disappointment aside, it was a really nice outing, thanks largely to the weather. We're only 12 days on from the really cold day when apparently the mercury got down to minus 16 in Newmarket, but I'd say that we must have been around plus 16 today. I heard on the radio today that the warmest February day in British history was in Cambridge in something like 1892, when they recorded (the Fahrenheit equivalent of, presumably) 19.4 degrees - and, although we wouldn't have quite got there today, we wouldn't have been far away. Truly bizarre - but very pleasant too, as the photographs of Dr Darcey cantering to post under William and walking around the parade ring suggest.

The day did have a low point (beside Dr Darcey's run, that is). We fell victim to an idiotic piece of quasi-law-enforcement. There is an owners' and trainers' room on the first floor of the Cromwell Stand, to which Emma, Jason Hathorn and I repaired after our race. As it was such a lovely day and as the room was very crowded, we thought that we would take our paper cups of tea outside onto the balcony once we had removed the tea bag from them. (Sorry, I couldn't resist that last bit: one of my pet hates is ordering a cup of tea and being given a cup of hot water with a tea bag in it). It transpired that the balcony was entirely designated as an area for the disabled so, to avoid being told that we were occupying an area to which we were not entitled, we stepped down onto the south-facing top step of the deserted stand, sat down and enjoyed soaking up the rays while drinking our tea - until, that is, a Health and Safety enforcement officer came up and told us that Health and Safety rules prohibited the drinking of tea from paper cups in that area. She eventually wandered off to harrass someone else who was doing the same thing a bit farther along the step, only to be replaced by one of her colleagues who told us even more forcibly that Health and Safety rules prohibited the drinking of tea from paper cups in that area. For f***'s sake! This was absolutely ludicrous. When I asked this second Hitlerette what the danger was, he said that the objection was that, if we spilt some tea, it would make the area slippery and potentially dangerous for anyone who subsequently came along! He didn't see the funny side of my asking whether the whole area would be cordoned off on rainy days, which would be the obvious and logical extension of that line of thinking. Anyway, by the end of this conversation I'd finished my tea so it became academic, but the whole petty incident was just so bloody stupid. We're all agreed that racecourses ought to be making every effort to make people feel welcome, which is after all pretty much the main thrust of the Racing For Change initiative, but Huntingdon clearly hasn't got the message. Obviously there are instances of behaviour which is anti-social, and instances of behaviour which is dangerous - but no one in his right mind could consider what we were doing either anti-social or dangerous. Leaving aside the fact that jumps races were run at Huntingdon today, which are infinitely more dangerous than drinking tea out of paper cups; and leaving aside that, as Chris Cook tweeted this afternoon "Barely room to turn a horse in the winner's enclosure here at Huntingdon. Matter of time before someone gets kicked" which suggests that, if Huntingdon ought to be concentrating on eliminating potentially dangerous occurences, the drinking of tea from paper cups should not be at the top of the list - the whole incident, insignificant though it was, was just a classic example of making one's customers feel unwelcome. If the two Health and Safety officers who harrassed us are not deemed capable of being told to use their discretion when it comes to identifying dangerous behaviour (or if they really did deem our behaviour to be dangerous) then they should not be employed to do the job. Either way, Huntingdon should hang its head in shame. I've included a photograph of our unacceptable behaviour - and also, to end on a more positive note, a photograph which shows that, while Huntingdon's policy seemed to be to make its visitors feel as unwelcome as possible, at least Gus wasn't fazed - just as long as he can come along for the ride, he's happy.

Don't look back

In this game, as in life, it is inevitable that there are periods when a few things go wrong. In any stable, there are going to be days when things don't go as you'd wish, and I'm afraid that we've had a couple of those days recently. However, in racing as in life, it's as well to look forward instead of back, so we'll look forward - to Huntingdon tomorrow and (the eliminator permitting) to Sandown on Friday. Douchkirk has a couple of entries this week but won't be taking them up (for no serious reason, simply that he had a session with Carol, our invaluable 'back lady', on Tuesday, and following that he is best having a few easy days - so hopefully he'll run in approximately two weeks) but our other entrants are intended runners. So that's Dr Darcey tomorrow and Kadouchski on Friday. They're both in good nick, and are seen here galloping up the Al Bahathri earlier this week, Dr Darcey's rear view and Kadouchski's ears being visible. They both ought to run well, although Dr Darcey's very feeble performance last time and the competitiveness of Kadouchski's race means that, while we might be able to head off to the races with hope, it would be impossible to set off confident of victory.

The connections of Exeter Road's hero (ie Don Cantillon - Don being the connection, not the hero, lest there be any misunderstanding) must have headed out full of confidence, though, yesterday, as the redoubtable La Estrella (who is a gelding, despite the fillyish impression given by his name) took his Southwell record to 11 wins from 11 starts when winning there yesterday as easily as the form book suggested that he would. He's a good horse elsewhere too as his record of something like 18 victories would suggest, but at Southwell - well, it would be wrong to say that he's unbeatable, but he is at least unbeaten, and to be unbeaten after 11 starts is extremely good going whatever the location. Being a 'character', Don Cantillon isn't everyone's cup of tea, but the one thing about which everyone ought to agree is that he is an extremely good trainer, and La Estrella can be regarded as Exhibit A in the presentation of that particular case. He's shown here on a previous visit to Southwell (led by Don and ridden by Dane O'Neill) on an occasion when Ethics Girl was one of those into whose face he kicked the Southwell sand. And you don't put her in her place very easily. Let's hope that La Estrella's latest achievement can inspire the Dr tomorrow.

The write stuff

A couple of results last weekend gave me a lot of pleasure. I really enjoyed watching Restless Harry and Henry Oliver gain a typically gutsy victory in the Grade Two three-mile hurdle at Haydock (the Rendlesham Hurdle, which always used to be run at Kempton on what is now known as Racing Post Chase Day). Restless Harry is one of my favourite horses. He's such a trouper. He dodged a bullet when the failure of the jockeys around him to keep their mounts straight at the last hurdle caused him to suffer a terrible fall at the Cheltenham Festival when he was a novice, but he bounced straight back from that awful incident and keeps bouncing back. He's a credit to his excellent trainer Robin Dickin, and his jockey Henry Oliver rides him with the same bold spirit with which he runs. So that was good - as was the victory of Bourne in the valuable handicap hurdle at Ascot. I'd have liked William and Swincombe Flame win, but they could only finish third; and if they couldn't win, I was very happy to see Bourne salute. I've enjoyed following his progress all the way through. When Clare Lindop was staying with us three years ago, she rode out for Luca Cumani one or two mornings, and he was one of the horses she rode. He was a three-year-old maiden at the time, and I've followed his progress since then. He was a natural horse for us to ear-mark as a potential hurdler at the Horses-In-Training Sale last October, but he didn't take up his place in that. The reason for that is rather a nice one. Bourne was bred and owned by the Chapman family, who have patronized Luca's stable for many years. When Donald McCain and I worked for Luca in the '80s, Donald looked after and regularly rode out a chestnut horse owned by the Chapmans called Main Objective, by the disappointing chestnut Mill Reef stallion Main Reef, in whom I think the Chapmans had a share. Main Objective must have been one of Main Reef's best horses, and won a good handicap at Epsom at the Derby meeting. Anyway, roll on 25 years and Donald made enquiries about Bourne when he saw that he was in the H-I-T sale. The Chapmans, no doubt remembering Donald from all those years ago, responded by saying that if he made a realistic offer, they'd rather sell the horse to him there and then instead of having him go to a sale and the uncertain future that that could mean, because they knew that he would be in good hands if Donald bought him. I thought that that was a lovely story which reflected very well on the Chapmans, and I'm enjoying seeing the horse do well now.

Another of the horses whom we'd earmarked as a potential high-class hurdler won last week, Lyvius winning very easily at Kelso on his National Hunt debut. He was consigned at Tattersalls by Danedream's trainer Peter Schiergen, and boasted decent, but not top-class, form in Germany. I ought to be able to say that I was underbidder to Lyvius, but that would not be strictly true. When Lyvius went through the ring, he was knocked down to the bloodstock agent David Minton while I was trying frantically to attract the attention of the auctioneer and the bid spotters, but was being ignored. It was a true debacle, but in effect did not alter the destination of Lyvius: when I approached David Minton after the sale, he reported that he had bought Lyvius for Trevor Hemmings and that the horse was going to Nicky Henderson, and that his upper limit had been a lot more than he had had to pay for the horse. So my bids not being taken did not alter the identity of the purchaser, merely the sum at which he bought him. That cheered me up a bit, but I was extremely pissed off about the whole debacle - and especially after David Minton said to me, "Yes, I think that you're entitled to feel aggrieved - I saw you trying to bid!". The auctioneer was a man regarded as a very good auctioneer and famed for his snappy turn of phrase, but I was left to reflect that wise cracks from the rostrum are merely the jam on the bread and butter, and if you can't get the bread and butter right - ie if you can't keep your eyes open to notice the bids that are being signalled extremely clearly to you - then the jam is a very poor substitute indeed.

These reflections put me in mind of one of the best newspaper articles I have ever read, in which the great Age journalist Les Carlyon wrote a synopsis of a speech he had made when accepting a journalistic award. I thought that my tale was the auctioneering equivalent of Les Carlyon's point, which was that "the main problems with journalism are technical, not ethical". We're all too used to agonised ethical debates on the problems of modern-day journalism, the balance of freedom of speech set against the right to privacy, and all the shite that the Leveson Inquiry is addressing so earnestly. (For example, I note that two hours ago a story went up on the Guardian website, presumably with a completely straight face, that 'The Leveson inquiry is creating a "chilling atmosphere" towards freedom of expression, Michael Gove has claimed' ...). Anyway, Les Carlyon's point was that such philosophical navel-gazing is of no use whatsoever if the press collectively can't get the basics right (which consistently it can't): "The main troubles with journalism are sloppy writing and sloppy editing, advocacy masquerading as reporting, gossip masquerading as reporting, stories that abound in loose ends and cliches, stories that are half-right, stories that insult the reader's intelligence.". Incorrect grammar, bad spelling, faulty punctuation, factual errors, inconsequential nonsense being treated as serious news - however mighty a juggernaut the Leveson inquiry is becoming, its brief would be massively wider if it were to tackle these more basic problems which reached the stage of an epidemic in British journalism years ago.

And it's not just in print that the English language is so abused on a daily basis. Returning to where we started this chapter, with a review of the racing which I watched on the television on Saturday, I can offer my brahma of the weekend: this phrase was tossed at the viewers on Saturday, "He's got all the right sort of credentials in terms of his abilities". What would be wrong with "He's good enough"? That's like something you'd find in one of those instruction manuals for a Japanese gadget, written by someone who has no familiarity with the English language, no concept of its potential elegance, but who can find his way around a Japanese-English dictionary. You might say, "Look who's talking", especially bearing in mind that I'm sure that I will express myself consistently poorly in the Trainer File which is about to be aired on Racing UK. But, really! The mystery of the moment is why it is becoming increasingly common to watch racing on television and find oneself wondering whether the presenters have English as their first language or their second.

If you would like to read Les Carlyon's words, by the way, you'll find them through this link: http://www.theage.com.au/news/Opinion/The-write-stuff/2005/03/20/1111253883620.html