Comings and goings

I see it's six days since I was last on here, but it seems a lot more than that. Since then we've had a couple of new readers: John McNamara and Claude Wathen-Berry. The former even claims to have enjoyed reading the blog! I'm enjoying the banter about favourite racing memories (although we could do with some back-up for the few correspondents who are kindly sharing their special memories) and John has thrown Noblesse's win in the Observer Gold Cup into the mix. I also remember his telling me once that Nijinsky was going round when he was first starting to follow the horses, and that that equine god was responsible for his addiction. If anyone can't understand why, just watch the wonderful film they made of him. The closing close-up slo-mo shots of him and Lester galloping across Newmarket Heath (no running rails on most of the Rowley Mile in those days) in the Champion Stakes are pure magic - and the fact that one knows he's about to be beaten doesn't spoil it at all. A wonderfully moving tribute to a great horse.

We had a wonderfully moving moment too this week (sublime to ...) when Lady Suffragette ran a wonderful race at Kempton. Brett has been a really lucky jockey for this stable - several winners from only a handful of rides - and he and dear little Lady nearly pulled it off. The filly is thriving under Aisling's loving handling and I hope that this run was only a precursor to better things. The Racing Post, for once (thanks to Geoff Leicester (sic)) summed it up well: "However, one had to feel some sympathy for Lady Suffragette, who was given a smashing ride and, having hit the front early in the straight, beat off all-comers, only to be swallowed up in the dying strides". It was really exciting.

We've also had several movements. Dear Joli has moved on today. He's gone to race in Kuwait and, while we spoke to his new trainer after the sale and he seems a sensible and professional horseman, one does worry for horses when they head away. However, it is wrong to believe that standards of care need be worse for not being in the UK, and no horse's future wellbeing is guaranteed wherever he goes.

About 90 minutes before Joli walked around Tattersalls' ring, Belle Annie was doing so. She's our newest recruit, subsequent to my signing the docket for 5,500 gns. Interesting pedigree. By Aptitude (by A P Indy ex Northern Dancer mare) from a Grade Three-winning Most Welcome mare, from a Great Nephew mare. She's a tall, quite backward, unraced two-year-old. Philip Mitchell bought her in US last year, has looked after her well and given her time to mature, but unfortunately for him her owner has bailed out. I felt a bit sad at being the potential beneficiary of Philip's misfortune as he's a real decent guy, but if I hadn't bought her someone else would have done: I checked with him before the sale that he wasn't going to be bidding, because if he had been going to try to buy her back to stay within his stable, then I wouldn't have bid. This rather taking filly will race for Dave Huelin and myself; we've enjoyed racing horses together in the past and have been lucky enough to see them all win at least once, so let's hope that she can keep things going. She'll be off to benefit from the green, green grass of horse heaven first, though.

Horse heaven is, of course, chez Kerry, whither Jill, Brief plus two yearling fillies (Diktat and Helissio) headed on Wednesday. It's a fair guess that those horses are pretty happy with life just now. The two yearlings are both broken and have had a few rides around, so they shouldn't forget how to conduct themselves during their holiday. They were both easy to break, which is a relief. Helissio only had a few rides, but I headed off down the horsewalk on her the morning before she left, and things went well. She's a lovely horse. We received a very kind postcard (the picture being the Charles Church painting of her Gold Cup-winning uncle Celeric) from her breeder Christopher Spence this morning, wishing us luck. I hope I will be able to give him positive bulletins about her progress in the years to come.

We've got Millyjean making her debut tomorrow. She ought to go down and back satisfactorily. I don't know who will be more green, she or her partner Michael Murphy, although I suspect it will be the latter. People who've been studying the lower tiers of racing for a while might remember Michael's father Mick, who was a jumps jockey in the north, mainly in Middleham, in the '70s. He rode as one of Neville Crump's jockekys for a while, and the Steve Nesbitt-trained Red Earl might have been his best mount. He also trained near Bury-St-Edmunds for a year or so about 15 years ago. He asked me if I could sort out a ride for Michael, who is a nice lad and used to ride out here occasionally when he was still at school and who is now apprenticed to Luca Cumani. Michael's got a lot to learn if he's going to become the horseman that his father is, but one's got to start somewhere, so hopefully an outing at Newmarket will help him along the way and he won't let us down.

It's been a long day and the next three promise to be busy as we prepare for blast-off. My brain is everywhere: trying to make myself completely au-fait with the Australian form so that we can appreciate it to the full when we're there, trying to concentrate on the great jumps racing here so that I can compile before departure a competition-winning 12-to-follow list, and most importantly trying to do the 10,001 things I must do before we leave. I'm bound to forget no end of things, so all I can do is hope that the things I do forget are only minor ones. (I mustn't forget to make the declarations for Sunday - so that they can be eliminated - in the morning, having forgotten to make them this arvo). One thing I don't need to do is to think up a horse for the list to win the Bula Hurdle - aaagh, War 'N' Place, that's just wrong - but what about the Mildmay/Cazalet disappearing act - oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, history doesn't matter. Just as well we'll be heading out to the country where this Saturday the big race is still the good old W.S.Cox Plate. Not the Winning Post Quaich (yet). I did have a large framed photo of my favourite Cox Plate winner Surfer's Paradise coming home ahead of Super Impose in 1991 on the wall of this room where I'm now typing, but it doesn't seem to be here any more. Where it was there now rests a framed snapshot of some vaguely familiar-looking sheilas 'having a mighty time' together. I wonder who could have made the switch. Answers on a postcard, please.

Magical trips around the world and through the years

It's been a full day. I've got back in the house at 9.15 after our trip to Lingfield, it's too late to start doing any work, so what better way to unwind than with a blog? (I bet you thought I was going to say 'an Edgar' then). If I take long enough over this - oh dear, that will have alerted the anti-verbosity squad at the HRA to the possibility of my outdoing myself "in terms of" talking shite - I might even still be going when we've reached a suitable time to call Joff or Richard (Melbourne nine hours ahead of us currently) for a Caulfield Cup morning chat. (Sigh).

I ended yesterday by finishing 'The Lincoln Lawyer', yet another outstanding Michael Connolly. No Bosch, but none the worse for that. Joe gave us this book on his last visit, and I know he'd be pleased to know that we've now both enjoyed it as much as he told us that he had done. So he was in my mind last night, and I'm pleased to say that he's been very much there this afternoon, because Larry and Iris came down to Lingfield to join the Premier Cru for Jack Dawson's outing this arvo. I was so pleased when Larry rang me this morning to say they'd be coming, and Antony very kindly rang round the various Premier Crumen who were scheduled to attend to see how many they would be, ascertained that there would be two owners' tickets free, and said that he and his co-owners would be delighted for Larry and Iris to use these. So we had a good gathering in the parade ring: Paul and Margaret, Trevor and Sheila, and Larry and Iris. Jack looked great, despite his lengthening coat, and we had a good man aboard, The Head Waiter himself, George Baker. George, predictably, rode him perfectly, but unfortunately the race confirmed the suspicion that Jack isn't quite as fast as he was three or four years ago. The spirit is still very willing, but the flesh is starting to weaken. There's definitely another race in him, but as he is still quite highly-rated (especially over hurdles) how to find it is the question. Still, it was a pleasure just to be there, to see Jack looking so completely happy in his work, both before and after the race, and to know that, after all the fun he's given us and the injuries he's overcome, he's still a more-than-willing competitor. It seems strange to say it about a run which wasn't good, but it was only natural to head to the bar afterwards and, courtesy of Paul, polish off a couple of bottles of champagne between us. The true sporting ethos is that it's the taking part that really counts, and thanks to Jack we've been able to take part in style, over and over again.

They'll be taking part in style at Caulfield in ten hours or so. This time last year we were able to watch all the races, thanks to a rather bizarre arrangement which saw Aussie Sky on an obscure satellite channel here - 423 I seem to remember - courtesy of William Hill I think. Unsurprisingly this didn't last more than a few months, because there didn't appear any obvious commercial explanation for it being shown, so sadly we can't see the action this year. Jason Weaver told me at Lingfield today that he's hopeful of finding a telecast of the Cup on some internet site, but I don't share his optimism. Who's going to win? (Well, who's going to run is another question, Imperial Stride or Land N Stars? Not that I'd say it matters: Imperial Stride is good enough to win, but I doubt he's close enough to his peak to do that, while Land N Stars might be good enough to beat one or two, but surely no more than that). I'll be barracking for one of the Japs, Pop Rock, because a win for him would further bolster my already-too-high optimism for our Helissio yearling filly. We thrive on dreams. And we like to see superhoop Damien Oliver doing well. I see he's lost none of his competitive edge, as I read he picked up a 14-meeting suspension on Thousand Guineas Day, which kicks in after Caulfield Cup Day and then allows him to resume on Derby Day. Sphenophyta, part-owned by my fellow Winning Post columnist Shane Crawford, and Growl have surely to run well. It seems hard to believe that their riders can make those weights, particularly Nikolic, and I'd say that their determination to do so is a tip in itself.

I've only seen one Caulfield Cup in the flesh (I'm being very self-indulgent here, so if you're getting bored, don't feel awkward about admitting it, and just skip the rest of this piece - but I feel it's important to get in the mood for one of the year's great racedays, and my way of doing so is banging on about it - and as I'm home alone, the blog-readers are the only audience I have) but that was a cracker. 1991. Let's Elope. There was a wonderful Racetrack centrespread the following month, and this was when Racetrack was a large almost-broadsheet magazine, of the field approaching the first turn, and it rates as one of the best photographs I've ever seen. The fire in the eyes of all the horses (well, all bar one, because Ivory Way was wearing pacifiers) says it all about the fierce competitiveness of the race. I think I'll dig it out this evening and look at it before I go to bed. A great race - but if I could only watch one race, it would have to be the Cox Plate. I've only seen one Cox Plate in the flesh - Surfer's Paradise, 1991 - but I've seen two more live on TV: The Phantom Chance, 1993, in the bar after the last race of an outstanding card at Rotorua, and Makbe Diva last year, at home here before going out to start work for the day. But, of course, being able to see it on TV in the UK was an aberration, so we won't have that luxury next week. But the following week it will be roses all the way, as I'll be on course for my fourth VRC Derby, following Fire Oak in 1990, Star Of The Realm in 1991, and - um, this is embarrassing, who won the Derby in 1993? The Mackinnon winners from those days - Better Loosen Up, Let's Elope and The Phantom, three years after running placed in the Melbourne Cup and one week after his several-years-younger full-brother won the Cox Plate (which explains why The Phantom received perhaps the most memorable standing ovation I've ever seen at a racecourse) - are easy to remember, but who won that Derby? Bloody hell! I've a feeling it was Mahogany, but that seems so bloody unlikely for a horse who won the Lightning Stakes about three years later. I'll just go and check in Greg Hall's book to see if it was indeed he and get back. (And feed the dogs while I'm at it).

Um, yes, Mahogany it was. The greatest horse to win a Derby for umpteen years, I was there, and I couldn't remember. Oh dear. Anyway, the gist of this gentle meander down memory lane is that, as you'll be able to work out, I'm really looking forward to our trip. And if either By Storm or Lady Suffragette can set us up for it with a win on Monday, that would be even better.

But for trips down memory lane, one I had midweek was pretty special. Technically, this isn't a trip down memory lane, because this photo was taken in 1901, so nobody who was around when it was taken is still alive so it isn't in anyone's memory - but even so, allow me some latitude and I'll tell you about a photograph I was privileged to see in a scrap book on Wednesday. The compiler of the book had, it appeared, come to Newmarket on holiday in July 1901, and was taken out on the Heath to watch the horses work. The date and time (7am) are written in alongside a photo of two horses who happened to walk past. One of them was Diamond Jubilee, winner of the previous year's Derby (even Triple Crown, I think). It was so much to take in I couldn't be sure exactly, but I think the other horse was also a champion, an Oaks filly perhaps. And Herbert Jones, his regular jockey, was on Diamond Jubilee, with Bobby Jones on the other horse. And, and this is the really special part, both jockeys were riding out in broad-brimmed straw hats (even in the sepia-tinted black and white photos, one could tell that it was, even at 7am, a true sunny summer's day). It was just magic. To see that, completely unexpectedly, as a snap in someone's holiday scrap-book and to read the exact details inscribed alongside was the closest thing to time-travel one could get. One could see the dust and feel the heat, and suddenly this horse who is still a household name and his equally-famous jockey (in his broad-brimmed straw sunhat) were just strolling past. Pure magic.

Isn't racing a wonderful sport?

Looking back with gratitude and forward with optimism

Now today I must be brief. In fact, I shouldn't really be creating this post at all, because it's after seven in the evening, the dinner is cooking and our dinner guests - Dave and Carolyn Huelin and Colin and Eileen Casey - are due at 7.30. And I'm filthy. But I haven't blogged for ages and I was intent on posting something this weekend, so perhaps for once I might MAKE IT SHORT. (And that might get the HRA temporarily off my back, because I have received an official request from Shaftesbury Avenue to cut out the crap). (And that's their phrase, not mine).

Since I was last on here we've been to London for Joe's memorial evening and we've spent a lot of time at Tattersalls. And we've run Jolizero at Warwick. The evening in London was a very special occasion. All that was lacking was Joe, but it was so easy to believe that he was there, and if he had been he'd have been in his element. He's so proud of Larry and Grant and of the happy and successful lives they have made for themselves, and he'd have loved the craic once again in Larry's regular haunt. The award for man of the match was hotly contested, with Paul Wright definitely being on the short list, but I think Gerry, as usual, collects the gong - even if we did have to hold him upright at Cambridge station as we pinned it on his chest. Richard Sims, too, deserves to be mentioned in dispatches, because his timing was spot-on: I received a text while I was at the party from him saying that he was there in spirit and asking me to pass on his regards to one and all. I only managed to show the message to a couple of people at the time, so if you're reading this, were at the party and know Richard, then please accept his greetings.

Tattersalls again provided a sale in which good horses were hard to buy, but I feel very optimistic about the two yearlings who arrived here last week. The Polish Precedent filly ex Pantone who hails from Chippenham Lodge Stud, breeders of Brief Goodbye, is a thoroughly nice filly, with plenty of quality and what seems like a fair degree of spunk. If she doesn't mature into a feisty little amazon I'll be very surprised. She's the first foal of her dam, who won at Newmarket, Sandown and Leicester as a three-year-old, and I hope she'll be yet another winner to come out of one of England's most successful studs.

The Helissio filly ex French Spice (pictured) definitely has, to my admittedly biased eyes, high-class staying races right in her sights - even if those sights are very much long-range ones, because she isn't going to be challengeing for anything in the immediate future. She's strong and well-grown, but one just knows that the family of Celeric and Sesame isn't about to throw up a star juvenile. And even if one accepts that there's an exception to every rule, I certainly won't be trying to force this filly to be that exception. This filly really is her father's daughter, and anyone who retains a mental image of her dad striding majestically clear in the Arc knows that that is high praise indeed. She almost certainly won't be anywhere near as good as he was, but he has definitely thrown her in his own image, so that's good enough for me. The aim is to form a syndicate for her on exactly the same lines as we have done with the Diktat filly (whom I rode for the first time yesterday, by the way, and who seems very amenable) and I've been delighted with the interest shown so far. Emma has taken some lovely photos of her, and we will be updating the horse list on the site with our new arrivals very soon.

Yesterday was Champions' Day, and Pride - of course - reinforces herself in our list of heroes. A true champion mare. She didn't win her first Group One until the age of six, yet she's now beaten Hurricane Run three times this year and could hold her own against any middle distance galloper anywhere in the world. She's yet another to keep up our optimism levels and our faith in our potential to unearth a champion from the least obvious sources, because she can't have been at all promising in her younger days - she's nothing to look at at all, even now in maturity, so she must have been a real weed at the outset - and I bet Gerald Butler never dreamed that she'd develop into the superstar she's become when she eventually managed to snag a terribly weak maiden at the backend of her three-year-old campaign. And of course Jim Bolger, perhaps the trainer I most admire, also consolidated his already rock-solid place on the list with his mighty double. He and his jockey (who gave Teofilo as good a ride as you'd ever see) are true professionals and an inspiration to anyone who aspires to high standards. I have had the pleasure of meeting him once - in the Ballylinch Stud box at Goffs a few years ago - and my respect for him couldn't be higher. I'm always delighted to see him win the top races.

The day before Champions' Day was Joli's Day, when Jolizero evinced from me a big sigh of relief by putting his last (terrible) run behind him with a much more solid display, finishing fourth at Warwick under an excellent ride by Robert Havlin. And tomorrow is Mobs' Day, when My Obsession (pictured after a recent schooling session with Matthew Smith) will bid to follow in Joli's footsteps by raising his game at Pontefract. Like Joli, Mobs has put in more of his fair share of shockers this season, but tomorrow's race ought to suit him and he appears to be working ok, so let's hope that we come home less dismayed than the last two or three times he's run.

We'll be wiser come bedtime tomorrow - and come bedtime tonight I'll be fuller, as long as I go and get ready for my dinner pronto.

Perfect timing

By Storm timed her run perfectly yesterday to salute the judge on the same afternoon on which we bade farewell to Joe. As a most loyal and keen supporter of the stable, Joe, I feel, would very much have enjoyed that. Not, I am afraid, that I paid the win as much attention at the time as it deserved. One can't be in two places at the same time and I was absent from Nottingham in every sense: physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Still, the brave midget didn't need my support, because she battled home like a true professional with Cliff Rimmer minding her, Ian Watkinson saddling and Kirsty Milczarek doing the steering. Many thanks to all three for helping this filly to a very special win - and to Jim and Martha who kept things running smoothly at home on a busy day. Especially to Martha, in fact, because she's been riding By Storm very well at exercise, as a lovely photo which adorns the latest news story testifies.

To anyone with whom I have discussed our runners this week (ie Lady Suffragette and By Storm), I apologise if I barely mentioned By Storm. The reasons for this are two-fold. Until after declaration time on Monday, I had basically written her off because I thought she was sure to be eliminated, as she was towards the bottom of a big entry. I was rather glum about this, because this was the perfect race for her - indeed, the only perfect race for her - so to be denied a run in it, as I was sure would happen, was hard to swallow. However, 10.30 Monday morning brought the welcome surprise that, presumably because of heavy rain in the midlands, far fewer horses had accepted for the race than I'd expected, so she was one of a full field of 16 who would be facing the starter. Before then, however, we had Lady Suffragette's trip to Nottingham to occupy us.

I looked for a much improved effort from Lady Suffragette, even though she is still far from the finished article, and I am pleased to say that we got it. Aided by a splendidly positive ride from the superb Catherine Gannon - and how the hell she is offered so few rides is a true mystery - Lady Suffragette was inspired to raise her game no end, finishing a fine joint-fourth, beaten maybe two lengths. It was a poor race so we won't be expecting her to make the grade immediately, but this has encouraged me to think she'll get there eventually.

And then, of course, on Wednesday, racing at Nottingham wasn't the focus of my day. With Cliff and Ian escorting By Storm to the track, I knew she was in safe hands so I could leave them to it as Emma, Colin and I hit the Glasgow road soon after 5am. Joe's send-off was a truly special occasion. Iris and Larry got it just right in appointing a member of what I believe is called the Humanitarian Society to oversee the service and say a valediction for Joe. This excellent man summed up Joe's life and spirit perfectly, as if he had known him all his life, and anyone who heard his words would have understood exactly why the lives which Joe touched were all so enhanced by the experience.

Among many very poignant touches from the ceremony to stick in my mind was the sight of a bunch of red and white flowers, sent by Trevor and Sheila on behalf of the Premier Cru, of which syndicate Joe was pretty much an honorary member thanks to his enthusiastic attendance at so many of Jack Dawson's runs and wins. Lawrence Wadey has summed up an aspect of Joe's character which I think is worth re-iterating: his generosity of spirit as demonstrated by his approach to ownership. He took true pleasure in the success of any horse from this stable, being genuinely happy for the horse's connections irrespective of whoever owned the horse, and he really welcomed all others to share in the excitement and thrill which he got from his horses. Happiness is for sharing, not hoarding, and the presence of those red and white flowers summed that up perfectly by showing that he wasn't alone in holding this philosophy. For those, incidentally, who were at Joe's farewell in spirit but couldn't be there in person, Larry is organising a celebration of her dad's life next Wednesday evening, 11th October, from 6pm onwards at VATS Wine Bar, 51 Lambs Conduit Street (at the Great Ormond Street end) in Holborn, WC1N 3NB. I know she'd be delighted to welcome as many friendly faces as possible.

After the funeral we adjourned to Joe's house, where Colin and I had been made welcome so many times in the past. An extra moment of poignancy was added by the DVD which Haydock Park had provided after Brief's win there 11 days previously. It was almost too good to be true that the disc contained not only the film of the race, but also the scenes in the winner's enclosure afterwards. In an ideal world there wouldn't be such a thing as a final day at the races, but in a mortal world where there has to be, what we were watching was pretty much the way a last outing should be. We owe a huge debt of thanks to dear, brave Brief Goodbye. And, unbeknownst to us, By Storm was limbering up for her victory lap as we watched that film. I am ashamed to say that she really wasn't in my mind at all at the time. I think there is only so much emotion that one can handle at any one time, and my subconscious was quite happy to put the anxiety one feels with a relatively high-pressure runner to one side: if things worked out well, I could savour them subsequently, and if she ran badly I could take the disappointment and work out what to do next in my own time. Basically, the situation was that By Storm would never have a better chance of winning than she had yesterday. I had been training her for two years on the stated presumption that, although ordinary, she was capable of winning, so if she didn't go very close yesterday, it would have meant that I had been encourageing Henry and Rosemary to waste a large amount of money and hope on a lost cause. I would have felt the opposite of proud of myself if that had turned out to be the case, whereas a win (or maybe a narrow defeat) would have meant enormous satisfaction. So, for me, there was a huge amount riding on the result, and it is possible to understand why it never crossed my mind to have a bet, because there was already more than enough at stake. I do just, however, in retrospect feel rather guilty that I hardly even thought to mention that she was running, never mind pass on the opinion that she was a 22/1 shot who had a very good chance of winning - but as earlier in the afternoon I had been explaining just why I believe trainers are the worst people to give an objective assessment of their charges' chances, I don't suppose my lack of voiced aspirations should be judged too harshly.

Just before I close this short entry, I should touch briefly on a few other matters. We'll be runner-less over the weekend with Jolizero having been top of the list of eliminees from the last at York on Saturday - which makes it inevitable that there will be at least one scratching from the race. Channel Four will be covering the meeting, presented I presume by my buddy Alastair Down - yes, you'll be surprised to learn that he and I had a most genial and constructive chinwag at Longchamp on Sunday, at his instigation. Credit where credit is due: he was friendly, thoughtful and sensible. (So how the hell has he ended up working on the John McCririck Show?). And in case anyone was wondering about the photo which illustrated the posting which I put up after Brief won at Haydock, it shows me conducting a dirty protest in support of the Ascot One. I read today that Seamus Heffernan has had his ban reduced, but not overturned, so if I wish to continue the protest maybe I now only need wet myself.