The Brahameister is back

The Master is back. No, I'm not referring to the fact that Richard Sims is back selling ads after his pre-Christmas break (although, if I were, that phrase would be very appropriate). I was given Dick Francis' come-back novel 'Under Orders' for Christmas, and I'm loving it. If one had time, it really is a book which one could just read straight through in one long sitting. It bears this phrase on the cover, and it is a justified claim. The Master is back, and he's produced yet another super novel. I thoroughly recommend it. I was very spoilt at Christmas. In addition to this book and to several lovely edible or potable (is that the correct word?) treats, I also received presents including a copy of 'The Secret River', a copy of Mark Johnston's biography, a 2-CD set of Clive James reading an abridged version of his recently-published fourth volume of memoirs entitled 'The North Face Of Soho', and a digital camera. All are excellent presents. Quite coincidentally, Bronwyn Farr had recommended 'The Secret River' to us when we stayed with her in Scone last month, so I'm really looking forward to reading that. Mark Johnston's book would have been eagerly anticipated even before James Willoughby wrote such a good review of it in the Racing Post. I love Clive James' prose (and, to a lesser extent, his verse), and count his first three autobiographical books as three classics, and regard 'Brrm, Brrm' as one of the funniest books I've read; so to listen to him reading his own work will be very special.

And the camera - well, I've taken about 30 shots already, mostly of the animals, including Giant, pictured here on her new saddle. Joff is a master of the digital camera, and when we were staying with him I was thinking I should have a similar pocket-sized one - and, lo and behold, I have one. It will be put to good use - including, most likely, on horseback - and, if I can master the technology to put pictures from it onto this blog - beware.

Even leaving aside the pleasures of receiving good presents, Christmas has been an enjoyable week. It's basically been a succession of Sundays, with the staff away, and all day to potter about the yard in our own time, getting the tasks done in a leisurely and relaxed manner. Aisling's been in most days to partner Lady Suffragette, who is one of the few horses being kept on the go through the period. Having a field to put the horses in makes it feasible to work things this way, because obviously it wouldn't be satisfactory just to leave the horses in their stables all week as they'd go stir crazy, although the field isn't much fun for people at the moment. It's dry enough at the top, but it's so wet at the bottom by the gate, just deep mud. Mind you, the horses don't mind, and just love to roll and get as muddy as possible. Particulary Millyjean, who I believe used to be a chestnut.

Riding out this week has been a particular pleasure when on board one of the others whose work remains uninterrupted, Pantomime Prince, pictured here with Emma, his new biggest fan. He's such a pleasure to ride, a real joy. Although I have to say that the joy wasn't unalloyed yesterday: Aisling and I (on Lady Suffragette and Pantomime Prince) galloped up the Al Bahathri about 7.20 am, and conditions were terrible. We're already a week past the shortest day, and I think visibility wouldn't have been too bad had there not been so much water in the air. But it was a damp, gloomy morning, and we caught a filthy storm while galloping so that one saw only marginally more by riding with one's eyes open (which was very uncomfortable) than with them shut. But our two lovely mounts got us from one end to the other in safety.

Racing on television, of course, plays a big part of Christmas (some viewers concentrate more than others, see picture). That's been great, especially Kauto Star, plus The Listener and Brave Inca - but it hasn't been a good week if one doesn't like watching French-bred horses win races. They've just won everything (OK, The Listener and Brave Inca are both Irish-bred, but they've won just about everything else). I was amused to see that about the only non-French stallion to make any impact was, believe it or not, Giant's Causeway. A pair of 4-year-olds won a handicap hurdle at Leopardstown and a novice chase at Kempton. I bet Coolmore won't mention that in their brochure. One sees so many four-year-olds winning steeplechases nowadays, and it was rather chastening to see the ex-Michael Jarvis Daylami four-year-old Pearl King, now with Philip Hobbs, win a handicap, not a novice, chase at Wincanton. Benedict beat him at Newmarket in a three-year-old handicap 19 months ago and, obviously while poor dear Benny remains forever young in our memories, it is just impossible to visualize his peers as steeplechasers.
Largesse has had another winner this week, which is great. A two-year-old called something like Blazing Darren - he's got such an awful name that I have a mental block about it and can't remember what it is - who won by three-and-a-half lengths at Wolverhampton. He had one very good run in a maiden at Newmarket for Michael Wigham in the autumn, and then won this maiden second up. He's now with Richard Hannon so I don't know what the story is there. He was ridden by George Baker, who was posting his 70th winner of the season, which, as George is as big as I am and kills himself to ride at 9 stone, tells us what a great jockey he is. If he could ride ten pounds lighter - basically if he was at least four inches shorter - he'd be champion jockey. I'm mulling on doing an end-of-year blog of tributes to those who have made a good contribution to the year as I see it and who are worthy of commendation, and George will definitely have to feature in that. Largesse will too, as he's had a cracking year with the minimal patronage from which he has produced his few sons and daughters.

Andrew Appleby has made a pretty good contribution to the year, too, but I doubt he'll make it into my end-of-year awards ceremony. If I've lost you by my sudden change of tack, he's the one who has a letter about the Stable Lads' Association in the Racing Post every day. He'll eventually be Aisling's father-in-law, so we saw him, plus the rest of his remarkable family, when we had a lovely evening - with quite superb food - at Aisling and Charlie's house on Boxing Day. He let slip there that the Racing Post isn't the only victim of his correspondence, so if you wish to see more of his missives, check out BBC teletext page 358 (or it could be 359 - just start at the cricket pages and keep going until you find the viewers' letters). Apparently, he has one in there most days. These ones are all about cricket. Basically he berates the England selectors for not including Shane Warne, Glenn McGrath, the Clarkes, Matthew Hayden, Ricky Ponting, Justin Langer, Brett Lee etc. in the English XI. That's the gist of it. I've an idea that I might put to him that he sends the cricket letters to the Racing Post and the SLA ones to the BBC. That would have everyone scratching their heads, which I think is his aim anyway.

Our other Christmas outing was to Gemma and Roger's house for dinner on Christmas Day. Gemma excelled herself by laying on a lovely dinner, which was truly excellent. Other culinary benefactors have included Alix Choppin, who returned to Newmarket from a Christmas spent in her native France with some lovely cheese for us - see Alix, I told you you'd be mentioned in this blog, so I hope you're reading this. (She stunned me by telling me that she reads and enjoys Emma's blog - she's even posted on it - but never looks at mine. That won't do at all).

Right now, bath time beckons, followed by dinner and a film I'm looking forward to, 'Mrs Henderson Presents' (I expect to fall asleep in the first half-hour, perhaps even the first quarter-hour, so I'll have the video recording from the start), so I best sign off. And cogitate on the year's achievers.

Doctor Jekyll and Mozie Hyde

I predicted that we would end the run-in to Christmas with either a roar or a whimper, and I'm afraid that it's turned out to be the latter. Kempton on Friday started well with Millyjean running a very satisfactory and promising fourth, but then ended on a flat note when racing was abandoned after only four races because of the thickening fog, which meant that Timmy had had a fruitless journey down there. Still, at least we had some encouragement to take for the trip, and at least the trip had been surprisingly straightforward: confirming that traffic really is a law unto itself, we found that the journeys to and from Kempton were very smooth with far fewer hold-ups than one would expect to occur on any normal Friday, let alone the Friday before Christmas, in thick fog to boot. Bizarre.

Saturday's trip to Wolverhampton was more frustrating. I'd remarked beforehand that Mozie Cat felt on such good terms with herself that I thought she'd either win or refuse to go into the stalls. Well, I nearly got it right, because unfortunately it proved that we'd left the obliging Mozie Cat at home, and her cantankerous alter ego turned up. She only went into the stalls by the skin of her teeth, thanks to efforts beyond the call of duty by the stalls handlers and by Brett Doyle, whom she threw off during the initial unsuccessful attempt to load her. The starter very kindly gave her much more leeway than she deserved and, after I'd run down to the start when I saw that the attempt to load her first had been a complete failure, everyone concerned excelled themselves in forcing her into her gate - and I think that my very familiar (to her) voice roaring at her from behind was probably also a factor in her laboured progress. As it happened, everyone's efforts weren't rewarded, because she was almost as unenthusiastic during the race as she was before it, never picking her bridle up at any stage on the way to finishing tailed off. Thank God she has won a race, because on that performance it is hard to see her winning another. She is quirky, which we already knew, and she'd showed herself very reluctant to be installed on all previous occasions, but this was dreadful, and it was a real disappointment that she wouldn't go during the race itself. The funny thing was that, for the first time, she was easy to load onto the lorry to come home: on the two previous occasions we had run her, it had taken at least an exhausting half-hour to get her on board, and that was after she had raced willingly and properly, whereas this time she hesitated on the loading ramp for no more than ten seconds. So strange - but then we did know that in advance. Perhaps I should have given her longer between races, but really it's hard to excuse such behaviour from a horse who is in great shape physically, completely sound and full of self-confidence. As we've observed previously, they're only human. Whether she will race again I don't yet know - as she's a well-bred winner about to turn four and the breeding season will shortly be upon us, there's an argument to say that it might be wise to quit while we're ahead - but if she does she will obviously first have to pass a stalls test, and I'm not quite sure how one would prepare her for that, because she just walks straight into the stalls on the Heath, and only shows her temperament on the racecourse. We'll see.

On a brighter note, it was good to see Dean McKeown at Wolverhampton yesterday. One of the jockeys I most admire, typically he isn't resting on his Hong Kong laurels. He rode an unraced two-year-old filly by Mind Games for Brian Baugh in the first yesterday, and pushed her all the way before finishing several seconds behind the second last horse, which is quite something in a six furlong race. After outwitting Mick Kinane to win the HK Vase on lovely Collier Hill, that's definitely going from the sublime to the considerably less sublime. Much as I complain how lazy and overpaid most jockeys are, there are plenty of them that one has to respect. As I mentioned above, Brett was very good, and completely uncomplaining, yesterday in being so tolerant of Mozie's mulishness, and Jimmy Quinn, who was in the adjacent stall, too went well beyond the call of duty in helping the team to get her into the gate. Less admirable were the on-course bookies who cut her from 7/1 to 7/2 in the final minute when it looked as if she was unlikely to enter the stalls: I can't believe that any of them took a bet for her in that time, because it had become clear that she was in a thoroughly unco-operative and unwilling mood, but of course if she was scratched, which appeared a certainty, the deductions which they would be entitled to take out of winning bets would be considerably larger if she was scratched as a 7/2 chance than as a 7/1 chance. The Racing Post is quick to pick up on bookies' attempts to shaft the punter, so it will be interesting to see if they notice that one. I doubt they will - they'll probably be too busy preparing yet another unreadable double-page spread telling us everything we already know about Paul Nicholls in advance of Kauto Star's lap of honour at Kempton on Tuesday. (OK Problemwalrus, so he could fall, which would leave the way open to Monet's Garden and the excellent Tony Dobbin).

One other Wolverhampton vignette to spice up Christmas Eve - another of my heroes, Terry Lucas, was the star of our previous visit to Wolverhampton, the one on which the correct Mozie Cat turned up. Tim and I (and Alice) were sitting in the lorry before racing when a beat-up-looking truck shot round the corner in front of us and stopped abruptly in the lorry park. It was really odd to see: like one of those TV ads where the film is speeded up so that the car just shoots round a corner and straight into its parking space at a completely unfeasible speed. Tim chuckled and said that that would be Terry Lucas arriving. My reply (as they were past the loading ramp, and I'd been engrossed in my book and not noticing what was going on) was how lucky it was that they'd already unloaded the horses, but even so it was still quite some manoeuvre in an empty wagon - at which point (as Tim already knew was about to happen) Terry jumped out of the lorry, lowered the ramp and a couple of horses emerged! It was so funny. And, of course, the perfect punch line was that one of the horses won! Afterwards Terry was shaking his head in bemusement: "Paul Mulrennan told me that horse is useless, and he's just gone and won by seven lengths!". (In defence of Mulrennan's pre-race assessment, there were four fallers in the race, so perhaps the horse was flattered by the result - or maybe we should just give him the plaudits for winning on a very moderate horse). The final word went to Tim at the end of the afternoon when we finally had forced Mozie Cat onto the lorry for the journey home: "You could understand her being so reluctant to load if Terry Lucas had driven her here!".

There's no place like home

I'm indebted to thoroughbredinternet.com, an excellent website which I read daily, for the information that a week or two ago a meeting at Mount Barker (WA) was lost because of a plague of locusts. This, seemingly, happens from time to time in the Lucky Country, and I recall a few years ago a fixture at Clare (SA) succumbing for a similar reason. However, I can't recall this happening in the UK, and it certainly won't happen here in the immediate future, with the country, or south-eastern and central areas anywhere, muffled by the worst (freezing) fog that we've had for years. It makes me relish even more than usual the prospect of battening down the hatches for Christmas. There's an old Norwegian / Viking / Lutheran / Minnesotan (I can't remember which, but it will be one of these as I recall it from a Garrison Keilor monologue) saying that there's no place like home when you're not feeling well. That's true, but irrelevant (I'm pleased to say) in this case just now. But there's also no place like home at Christmas, and there's no place like home when the weather is bad. So the prospect of a nice quiet Christmas at home is a happy thought. The fridge and pantry are both full of food, and the boiler appears to be working well so we'll have plenty of hot water and a warm house. For company we'll have fourteen horses, two dogs, one indoor cat, several outdoor cats, plus one who is neither indoors nor outdoors (Giant). And we have an empty muck-hill, plenty of feed (mostly cool mix), 80 or so bales of shavings, 100-odd bales of hay so we can withstand the siege. Great - and if there's plenty of racing on the tv (which can't unfortunately be guaranteed), then that will be the icing on the cake.

But first we have two outings. I'm not relishing having to go anywhere as conditions for driving will be very bad and the roads will be very full, but Kempton Friday and Wolverhampton Saturday are trips to relish, with Timmy and Millyjean running at the former and Mozie Cat at the latter. Pantomime Prince should also have been readying himself for the trip to Kempton, but the eliminator decreed otherwise. January 3rd is his next possible race, and that would be our next possible outing, so we can pull up the drawbridge for Christmas week. We should have three good shows from these runners, but that, of course, certainly doesn't guarantee any wins. The way Mozie feels at the moment (terrific) suggests to me that she'll either win or refuse to go into the stalls - but of course there are any number of things which can go wrong, so I'm certainly not taking anything for granted. If all three horses run creditably and safely, and all connections are come away proud, satisfied and optimistic for the next venture, then we'll be happy.

The current weather conditions, incidentally, are the perfect climate for reading the novel I'm currently enjoying, 'Birdsong', by Sebastian Faulks. I don't know that 'enjoying' is the correct term, because there's something rather grim about immersing oneself in the full awfulness (a colossal understatement) of the world of 1917, but it is an extremely moving book and I really look forward to each opportunity to pick it up and read another section. This ghastly weather we have at the moment really makes one further appreciate the hell the soldiers endured: it's bad enough that we have to go outside and work (in relative safety) for a few hours before retreating back indoors for a hot bath, a good dinner and plenty of sleep in a warm, dry, clean house, so to be exposed to the elements with virtually no shelter other than a wall of mud, and with grossly inadequate food, for the entire winter is shocking - and that's not even considering the far worse situation of being shot at, shelled and gassed throughout. It really makes one appreciate what terribly fortunate and truly blessed lives we lead, irrespective of whatever worries or setbacks we inevitably encounter along the way. Which is a thought I'm very happy to hold as we approach Christmas.

David Cosgrove, rest in peace

I feel it would be remiss of me to start this posting on anything other than a sad note, following the announcement that David Cosgrove passed away in Addenbrooke's Hospital in Cambridge on Friday. While it would be stretching the description to say that he and I were friends, we have been friendly acquaintances for most of our adult lives: when I left school and started work for Andy Turnell, who was still then at his father's old yard (now re-developed) in Ogbourne Maisey, just north of Marlborough, David, who was three years my senior, was working for David Murray-Smith, who was training at the time in the small yard at the top of the hill. The two stables' strings, plus that of Peter Makin (who I think would be the only trainer in the village nowadays) used the same gallops, and David's and my paths have been crossing each other throughout the subsequent 22 years. He was a very talented horseman who became a very capable trainer, but his life was blighted initially by alcohol and subsequently by cancer, and sadly his final years were probably not happy ones. Since he ceased training around three years ago he has still been about the town, and spent some time in and around this stable initially when he stored his tack in one of the loose boxes here after the dissolution of his stable - and then more recently when, while his health was on a temporarily upward curve, he returned to Exeter Road for a while to help his previous employer and loyal friend Willie Musson. I hope that he died peacefully, and I would like to remember him as he was when his health was better, when the smile was always on his face and when he was a key member of the band of wild Irishmen - Neville Callaghan, his former sparring partner "Red" Eoghan O'Neill and the Quinlans spring instantly to mind - who have over the years ensured that there's never a dull moment in Hamilton Road.

On a much less significant note of regret, I feel I should answer the unspoken queries of anyone who happens to have noticed on the personnel section of this site that we have one fewer resident dog than formerly. Sadly, we have had to repatriate Sarah to the rescue home from whence she came in September. Fortunately Emma was away for three days when this all blew up, because it was a sad occasion; but made more bearable by the facts that it was the clearly the correct course of action and that Sarah was plainly not unhappy to be back at her former home. For reasons known only to the two dogs, Sarah and Alice had been growing increasingly antagonistic in recent weeks, and last weekend this came to a head. We had noticed that Alice had been picking up a few little cuts around her head and neck, but no alarm bells were yet ringing. Then last weekend, on both Saturday and Sunday, Alice went walkabout - the difference from her normal wanderings being that night fell and she didn't return. Both times I only found her when driving around the town looking for her, and on the Sunday it dawned on me, as I realised the cause of her wounds, that she had run away to escape Sarah. She was really anxious and very loathe to re-enter the house, so I made a fuss of Alice and made sure that I kept them apart while I pondered what the hell to do about this awkward situation. The decision was made for me when by my mistake they found themselves in the same part of the house for a few seconds: Sarah attacked Alice and, if I hadn't been on the scene within seconds, I think would have killed her. Poor Alice was quite badly wounded around her head and neck, and was in shock. It was then quite clear that, if the two animals remained living same house, either Sarah would kill Alice at the first opportunity, or Alice would run away for good. So the only option was for Sarah to return to her former home - which was no problem as, when one gets a dog from a rescue home, one is always told that, if there is a problem, the dog is always welcome to return. So, after returning from Wolverhampton last Monday (Alice had come with me to keep her safe and feeling wanted), I took Sarah back to the kennels the other side of Ely. What made this task less hard was that it was clear, when she disembarked, that this was a place where she had been, and would now continue to be, happy. After chatting to the man who runs it, I turned to return to the car and Sarah followed me, which was a rather emotional moment, but when she was told that she couldn't come, it was clear that she was happy enough to stay. So now we just have Alice and Stan, who have been even more spoilt than usual this week and who look very happy with life. Alice has been on anti-biotics because the wounds on her neck became infected, but fortunately she has suffered no lasting damage from what could have been a fatal encounter. Dogs are so strange, because for the first two months of Sarah's stay here they got on fine, but who knows what goes on in an animal's head? After all, they're only human.

So that's the story in this household as we head towards Christmas. Smug though Alice is now, Sebastian, the feline head of the household, is even smugger, and I suspect these animals are going to enjoy the next couple of weeks. As regards the horses, we should end Advent with either a roar or a whimper, because we could have up to four runners at the end of this week. There are, amazingly, three flat meetings scheduled for Friday afternoon, and we have three entries at one of them (Kempton Park). Millyjean, fingers crossed, should be regarded as a definite runner, and I think it is likely that both Limit Down and Pantomime Prince will be declared. The latter is one of our new recruits from Chris Dwyer. His form is poor, but nobody is under any illusions about his prospects, which are probably limited. However, I was happy enough with his gallop yesterday to say that he can fulfill the appointed task, which is to have one or two more runs so that connections can say they have explored every avenue before, as is likely, he is re-routed to a new career which doesn't involve racing. He is a delight to ride and a thoroughly pleasant horse, if rather shy and diffident, so he will definitely have a future as somebody's horse. I have, though, known worse horses than he appears to be win races so, while it may be clutching at straws, I wouldn't totally write him off yet but, to use a good phrase, he 'needs to lift'. We'll see. Anyway, I'm particularly looking forward to Millyjean, who seems in great nick at present, having what will be only the second race of her life, and I'm at least as excited about running Mozie Cat back at Wolverhampton on Saturday. She is full of confidence and vitality since her win, so I hope she will put up another very bold show.

Oh, by the way, I'm delighted to see so many responses coming in on the blog. It's great to have so many contributions. The more people who get involved, the more fun this will be for everyone. Problemwalrus remains our star, but the more the merrier, so keep 'em coming.

Go home, you bewdy

Undisputed heroine of the week has to be Mozie Cat. Any win is special, but a horse's first win is always the best. The first win turns a maiden into a winner, and anything else is a bonus. As recent postings on this blog will have indicated, Mozie's recent work had been very good, and had certainly indicated that she was up to winning her race on Monday, but she still had to prove that she could and would go out and put the potential into practice. So it was wonderful to see her do so. Greenness (because she has been a slow learner), lack of recent racing (particularly as she is a very thick-winded horse) and quirkiness (because she does like to express her individuality, and any time she says that she really doesn't want to do something, one isn't surprised) could all have made her on-track form fall short of her homework - but despite looking as feared very green, she was going too well and, aided by a typically polished ride by Brett Doyle, she came home in front. Andrew Hollis has assembled a very nice band of broodmares at Norcroft Park Stud - to which his Stakes winners Polar Jem and Tarandot will have made excellent recent additions - and I hope that Mozie is now qualified to join the harem. She certainly should make a lovely broodmare - being from the only crop of the great Mozart has to be a plus, while her dam is by Storm Cat from a Classic winner (Eurobird, a daughter of the great Ela-Mana-Mou) who is a half-sister to two more Classic winners (Assert and Bikala). I've grown really fond of Mozie, whom I really enjoy riding, and would love long-term to see Andrew breed a champion from her, which certainly could happen. But I hope she will be able achieve a bit more on the racecourse before that.

It was great to have Brett on another winner for us. He's an excellent jockey, who probably isn't fully appreciated in the UK because of having done most of his riding in recent years overseas. I think Sayyedati in the Sussex Stakes remains his only Group One winner here, but he's had no end of success elsewhere, and now that he seems happy to be settled back at home, I suspect he won't remain under-appreciated for long. His record for this stable is superb. I reckon he's ridden us six winners - two on Archirondel, two on Critical Stage, one on Ex Mill Lady and this win on Mozie Cat - and I doubt that that's from more than about a dozen rides. He rode dear old Timmy at Lingfield today, who ran another brave race. The wide draw didn't do him any favours and he consequently ended up working too hard, too soon and too wide. If things had gone really well, today's fourth place might have been a second, but we wouldn't have beaten the winner Binnion Bay, who confirmed the impression he'd given when beating Timnmy at Kempton last week that he's a lot better than Regional class. However, Timmy is such an honest soldier that that all-important first win has to come at some point. He certainly deserves it.

Diligent blog-readers might have noticed that Dickie Sims is trying to make his replies longer than my initial postings (an impossible task Dickie - you're pissing into the wind, mate); but if you've missed his ramblings, seek them quickly, because I'm going to contact the Blog Administrators to have the worst offending articles removed. I'm the only person who is exempt from the principle that brevity is best (in my mind I'm exempt, at least). So if you've missed Dickie's wafflefests, how about entering our competition. I've been put up to this by Postponed's stud manager. Michael Tidmarsh and I keep an eye on an NZ site called racecafe. One of the main contributors to its discussion is the studmaster responsible for Postponed, sire of our dear Dolly (see 'Horses In Training' section of this site). One of his stunts was to stage a competition in which one was to nominate the three most successful stallions, by average (at least three offspring had to be in the sale), of the NZB Ready-To-Run Sale. (I think No Excuse Needed was the best-seller, which is remarkable bearing in mind that Irish breeders couldn't give his yearlings away this autumn). Anyway, to give a sensible entry, one would have had not only to go through the catalogue thoroughly, but also watch all the gallops. Hours of work. And the prize? A Postponed cap !!! Free advertising for Postponed. God knows who won it, but I'm thinking about contacting the stud and asking that they send Michael and I a cap each, which I think we'd merit. Mind you, if I walked around Newmarket wearing a cap bearing the logo 'Postponed', nobody would be any the wiser, and I guess that I'd just have several wags asking whether it shouldn't read 'Abandoned'. So, to get to the point, a competition with not much of a prize seemed to be the go. So I've decided to go one step farther, by stageing a competition with no prize at all. So here it is:-

What you've got to do is nominate the most similar celebrity look-a-like for various people connected to this stable. Their names are listed below, along with some of the answers so far supplied. If you can't do any better than the identities already put forward, keep your suggestions to yourself, but if you can better them, then stick 'em up. Here goes.

Richard Sims (whom else could we start with?). Answers already given - Douglass Whyte; Aidan O'Brien; Graeme Connors; Tony Robinson (in his roles as Baldrick in Blackadders I, II and III, and, particularly, as Private Baldrick in Blackadder IV).

Joff Dumas. Chopper Reid.

Gerry Chesneaux. Daniel Craig, in his role as 007 (both Gemma and Emma put that one forward, so if that ends up as the winning suggestion, then they'll have to split the non-existent prize).

James Dowsett. Michael Douglas (in Wall Street); Leonard Rossiter (in Rising Damp, and particularly when Miss Jones appears).

Ollie Marsh. Dustin Hoffman (in The Graduate).

Our neighbour Willie Musson. Peter Fonda (in Easy Rider).

So keep your suggestions flowing. And if there's anyone else for whom we should also be looking for doppelgangers (including me), do let us know. I'm sure that I keep catching glimpses of George Costanza and Cosmo Kramer riding out in our string, but whenever I turn to look, they're not there.

Pictures from Pakenham

Today started well with TV pictures of Monsam winning at Pakenham. It was a tremendous performance - in what seems to be a new type of race for Australia, a ratings-related handicap, which I don't think is a step in the right direction. If it ain't broke, don't fix it; and I've always thought that their Class system has been working better than our method does here (although I suspect their system wouldn't be a success if it were to be introduced here). Still, organizing racing in the UK isn't in my remit, much less organizing racing down under, so my ill-informed opinion doesn't matter. Anyway, back to Monsam. At The Races carried pictures from Rockhampton and Pakenham between 2.30 and 5.30 this morning, and I was delighted to take advantage of the opporunity to watch the horse which Dickie co-bred and part-owns, and whom we visited at Markdel last month, salute the judge. Dickie tells me that he broke the track record, so he could be good. He could be very good. He might even be great ...

Dickie has bemoaned the fact that the mighty Monsam is absent from the list of horses in training on this website. He seems to have missed the point that I neither own nor train Monsam, which more or less makes him ineligible, but as his win has made him the lead story on this edition of the blog, we might find that Emma puts up an accompanying photo of him standing to attention in Lee Freedman's stable alongside Dickie wearing the notorious West Tip sweater which matches the colours in which he races. Or maybe she might wait for us to be sent a photo of him returning to scale at Pakenham, with Dickie and Brent Stanley each sporting identical liveries. Or she might realise that I'm so pissed off with Dickie tricking me into missing Stoneage Romeo's race (see below) that she won't put up his pic at all.

Unfortunately, as you'll have gathered, I missed the opportunity to watch Stoneage Romeo running at Ballarat yesterday. This was my own fault, because I made the basic mistake of paying attention to Dickie. Joff had told me that the horse had been nominated for Ballarat and for Moonee Valley the following day and, although each engagement looked an unsuitable target, the Empire had given its wildly optimistic trainer permission to run in whichever he wished. Unfortunately, Dickie emailed me after acceptance time telling me that the horse was running at Moonee Valley, and stupidly I didn't verify this information, which meant that I didn't realise that Ballarat was the chosen venue until after that race had been run. To the surprise of nobody bar the trainer (the horse would have paid around $75), Stoneage didn't make any impact in the race, but it would have been nice to have been able to watch. Hopefully I'll see his next race, which I hope will be over considerably farther. By that time, Clinton may also have changed his chiropracter, because the horse's high head carriage, inability to put on weight and apparent reluctance to stretch out at the end of the race suggests that his current one is missing something.

I'm currently chiropracter-less, which isn't good, because Carol Whitwood has had a knee operation and is out of action for a couple of months. Showing typical consideration to her clients, she made sure her operation and convalescence came at the time of year at which she would be least missed, but really I'm lost without her. As a last resort I've done some running repairs to a couple of horses myself - I normally restrict my input to diagnosis - but I'll be so pleased to see her back! I've seen so much evidence of stables where whatever 'back' work is done is done badly that I so appreciate the assistance of someone who is genuinely good at the job. And who is so genuinely helpful. We're so lucky to have her.

We're also so lucky to have a horse around as pleasant as Timmy (Limit Down). He ran a great race at Kempton on Wednesday. A seeminly endless string of eliminations had meant that he went three and a half months between races, but he showed no signs of rustiness by putting up a really bold show to finish second. The winner, wearing first-time blinkers, ran as if he was a grade or two better than Regional racing, and I came away as proud of the horse as if he'd have won. Timmy is a pleasure to have around, Becky is a pleasure to train for, and I so hope that horse and owner can be rewarded with a win. We'll probably have another try at Lingfield on Wednesday. The likelihood is that Brett will be in the saddle next time - he was already committed to going to the other meeting by the time we knew we had got a run this time - but that's no reflection on Rab Havlin, who gave him a cracking ride. That's two he's ridden for us this year, Jolizero at Warwick being the other, and I'd give him top marks for each. And that's rare.

Another hoop whom observers of this stable will know that I respect is the currently embattled John Egan. Of course his current problems are entirely of his own making, and unfortunately he is not the only victim of them, but that doesn't alter the fact that there's a lot of good hidden in there among the obvious flaws. And I'm not just referring to his excellent riding - nine times out of ten, he'd jump at the opportunity to do someone a good turn, as I've been fortunate enough to discover several times, and I very much hope that he can emerge from his current woes and that stability can return to his life and the lives of those around him. If you're reading this John - which is very, very unlikely - please focus on the light at the end of the tunnel.

A less complicated character who has been in the news this week is Chris Dwyer, one of my most long-standing and most valued friends. Today's Racing Post carried news of Chris' decision to cease training, and all here wish him and Shelley very well as they concentrate on their thriving business at Georgia House Stud in Burrough Green. Racehorse trainers suffer from the same delusion as secret agents - I think the line comes from a John Le Carre novel that the greatest secret in M15 is that there are other ways of spending one's life - in that it's easy to think that life as we know it will end if we chose to do something else, but Chris and Shelley have seen the light, will still be more than busy and, I hope, more than satisfied and considerably less stressed. It was thanks to Chris and Shelley that I was entirely undeservedly creditted with my first success as a trainer (Cyrano's Lad, whom he rode to victory at Lingfield in May 1995) and first Newmarket winner (Silktail, who beat Istabraq a couple of months later on the July Course) and the many other kindnesses they have done me are too many to mention. Chris is one of the two people (Lawrence Wadey being the other) without whose support and encouragement I doubt I would have ever embarked upon a training career, so I should not allow the day of his announcement to end his own training career to go unremarked. He's been kind enough to point some of his charges in his direction, which is great, and I hope that I will be able to persuade him to come and put some of them through their paces from time to time. He's a true horseman as well as true friend, and if he were to tell me that one's ready to run well, then that would do for me.

Two sad items in today's bulletin are the news from HK that Takeover Target has tested positive to what appears to be a steroid, and that we have had to take Harry, the Most Welcome two-year-old, out of training. He was the star of last weekend's posting after he galloped very well, but unfortunately a minor problem has presented itself since then, and the only sensible course of action is to acknowledge that and rest him. He hasn't been lame at any stage but, while small problems tend to go away if the horse is rested, they generally become big ones if the horse continues to work. I hate injuries to horses. In this case, one aspect is easy to bear because the horse is feeling no pain, but being the medium for disappointment isn't good. One has to own horses to appreciate just how much emotion one invests in the journey of hope, and to tell someone that that hope needs to be put on the back-burner isn't a task which I relish. Of course one knows that it is inevitable that setbacks will occur however carefully one trains horses, but when I'm entrusted with someone else's property, I always feel that my main priority is that it doesn't get damaged while I'm the custodian. Inevitably I sometimes fail in this objective, and when that happens - as today - I do feel bad about it. Fortunately Michael and Kim are proper horse people who realise that disappointments do inevitably sometimes occur, so they have taken the news very well - but in one sense that makes it an even less enviable task to tell them, because they are just the sort of people who deserve to be given good news. Still, the horse is still young and hasn't suffered a serious injury, so let's hope that the good news is only postponed.

The latest twist in the tale of Takeover Target is a shame. Drugs are becoming a major part of racing - I suppose they have been for a century - and there are two ways of looking at things. Nowadays it seems to be the generally accepted opinion that using prohibited drugs to try to improve a horse's performance is perfectly acceptable as long as the drugs have left the horse's system by the time it races. However, although the British press and the BHB (or HRA, or BHA, or whatever they've most recently expensively re-branded themselves) appear to find nothing odd in this and to feel that people are just unlucky when they cut it too fine, the idea doesn't rest easily in my mind. It is becoming ever easier to become convinced that one has to join 'em to have any chance of beating 'em, so to discover that a horse like Takeover Target, whose story had appeared to be the ultimate fairytale of the honest battler beating Goliath, has had his success based on chemical assistance is very disillusioning. It's rather like hearing that Sergeant Cecil has failed a dope test - but that, I really do believe, just isn't going to happen.

Could be good. Could be very good ...

The post in Newmarket is becoming very bad. (How's that for a boring first sentence?). A week or so ago I received a letter which was addressed to someone or other, c/o Henry Cecil, Warren Place, Moulton Road, Newmarket. And two letters correctly addressed to me have only arrived here after originally, according to the notes scribbled on the envelopes, being delivered to Rossdales Veterinary Practice and to Lanwades Stud in Kentford. How odd is that? Or is it just that the postmen are having a series of little jokes at the Henry's and my expense?

Someone else who seems to enjoy a joke at our expense (well, at Emma's and my expense, if not at Henry's) is Alice. It's been ever so wet, so this property is about as muddy as the Somme, March 1916. Most of the animals (bar Millyjean) manage to avoid getting too dirty most of the time, but Alice appeared in the house today just plastered in the blackest mud you'd find outside of Rotorua. We had to bathe her, to which I must say she submitted with surprisingly good grace. Probably because she was washed in Aloe Vera Dog Shampoo. So she's now about as clean as I was yesterday. (This blog is getting more boring by the sentence - Ed).

Yesterday I was, as you'll have gathered, by my standards very clean and well presented. The reason for this was because I was lucky enough to attend the Derby Awards lunch in the Royal Lancaster Hotel in London. I was guest of Antony Harbidge, who takes a table as his works Christmas outing, and was conveyed there in the Darley troopmobile. That was the main reason for my being so clean, because the Darley cars come under the care of Cliff Wigham, who is the travelmeister par excellence, and one wouldn't consider enterring one of the cars under his care in anything but pristine condition. Cliff wasn't at the wheel yesterday, but there was no chance of our getting lost because he had given our driver Phil typically superb street-by-street instructions. As many of you will remember, Cliff's riding career never recovered from his being led up by Joff on the Luca Cumani-trained Lord Magister at Newmarket (Rowley Mile) in 1989, but he's thriving on his current role.

The lunch was great, as usual. And this year it was even better because we had a celebrity on our table. Peter Corbett, who is a familiar face to regular racegoers because of his paddocking duties, has recently had his fanbase hugely extended thanks to his starring role in the National Stud's Blakeney Club ad on TV. If you haven't seen it, just turn on your set (any channel) and leave it on for about half an hour: you'll be sure to see the ad two or threee times. Peter is the man who says "Every foal that's born could be good. (Pause) Could be very good. (Pause) Might just be great". So famous for this has he become that this was reflected in the name cards by the various place-settings on the table: 'Paul A', 'Paul W', 'John', 'Plummy bloke who says "Could be good. Could be very good. Might just be great"'...

Anyway, ours was a great table, and the speeches and presentations also made for first-rate entertainment. Geoff Lester made some joke which I didn't understand about not wanting to join Steve Mellish for lunch in the Piccadilly sushi bar - presumably Geoff doesn't like Japanese people, but one had to know that in advance to get the joke, which I didn't. Otherwise, it was laughs and/or tears all the way. Some of the video shows were fantastic. Seeing Mill House winning the Whitbread (1967? 1968?) under the Duke was great, and the shots of him walking back into the winner's enclosure made it easy to understand just what a very special, very great horse he was: he looked colossal, all power and quality. The Desert Orchid tribute was superb, and the Red Rum/Ginger McCain montage was outstanding. I was feeling slightly bashful about having tears wellling in my eyes by the end of it, until Ginger appeared on the stage and it became clear that that's the normal reaction to the film. Tim Richards' award as Journo Of The Year was very good, and his speech was typically excellent. What was so nice was that the bulk of it was a tribute to his deceased colleague Robert Pratt. It was very poignant to see Robert as one of the nominees for this award, and Will Hayler wrote a lovely tribute to him in the programme. I am saddened to say that I didn't know Robert at all, and I feel that my racing experience has been much the poorer for his absence from it. When he died, Tom O'Ryan wrote the most lovely obituary of him in the Racing Post, which made me realise what a special man he had been. When I saluted Tom on the piece the next time I saw him, he reiterated what a lovely man Robert had been, and asked me if I'd known him, to which I very regretfully had to say that I hadn't. Tim's speech further emphasised what a fine man he was, and I hope Robert was looking down on the gathering and appreciating just how highly his colleagues had valued him. And I hope that Tim too appreciated yesterday just how much people think of him and how pleased we all were to see him collect the award.

Looking ahead, I hope that later this week I might be able to watch some of the horses we met in Australia in action. Amazingly, and with no fanfare, Sky (Aus) has made its way back to the At The Races schedule. There's just a brief outline in the TV schedules in the Racing (yesterday it seems that Kyneton and Scone were shown!). It seems to come on between 2.30 and 5.30 in the morning, so that gives us the bulk of the afternoon's racing (1.30 to 4.30 in the south eastern states during daylight saving). Stoneage Romeo is nominated for Ballarat Thursday and Moonee Valley Friday. If he ends up taking the latter option his race won't be on because that'll be evening racing, but if Ballarat is the preference there's a strong chance his race will be shown. And then Monsam (whose lack of fitness first up even rated a mention on page two of last weekend's Winning Post) should be viewable at Pakenham on Friday. Having watched his dam win there in person eight years ago, it would be good to see him salute there (which he must have a great chance of doing) via live TV.

Before then, we have Timmy running at Kempton tomorrow. He's finally got in a race!!! (Three and a half months after the last time he managed that). He should go well. Unfortunately Brett can't ride him as he is committed to going to the other meeting, but Rab Havlin (birthday boy) will take the reins and if he rides him as well as he rode Jolizero at Warwick, then we'll have a horse ridden very well indeed. I hope we'll be able to make it up to Brett by legging him aboard Mozie Cat on Monday.

I can't forget

This has been the week in which we've seen the bloodstock market go through the roof. Do we welcome this? I don't think so. To the Rothschild family, who've enjoyed Group One success this year with Notnowcato and who evidently feel that they'd like to try to breed another top horse, the best of luck. The prices for Magical Romance and Spinning Queen are colossal, but they are two lovely fillies/mares and they should make wonderful additions to an owner/breeder operation. I hope that they do. To the new breed of 'traders' who appear to have decided that the bloodstock business is a good alternative to the stock exchange, less good luck. Horses aren't commodities, and we should be treasuring them, loving them and using them to try to win races and breed racehorses, not to try to make some money at the expense of some greater fool farther down the line.

Mind you, I suppose we could be accused of not making much of a go of trying to win races, because it seems like an age since we've won one, but we are still trying. Honest. I really enjoyed galloping Mozie Cat and Cheveton (as the Most Welcome two-year-old is now officially called, though we know him as Harry) this morning, and feel that they both give us a chance of getting back on the score-sheet at some point. Mozie sooner than Harry, I feel. If we're lucky, Emma will put up a photo of Harry galloping this morning somewhere here (either on this blog, or in the Horses section of the website; or both) and he's certainly striding out well, but he still needs to get a bit fitter and a bit stronger. He will. Timmy is also going nicely, and moving well (for him), so he should run well if he ever gets into a race. To top off a nice morning today, I rode the Polish Precedent filly for the first time, and she was good. David has been driving her around town on long reins, and he's done a good job. Once I'd got the filly used to being ridden, Martha took over and they went off for a walk with Ben Bhraggie and Timmy, and all seemed to go well.

Yesterday was a less nice morning. Not only because it was grey and damp, but because we had a horrible accident hanging over us. Fortunately, later in the day word seeped out that the victims, Colin Nutter and the two-year-old he was riding, both look like living to tell the tale, but that is just by the grace of God. Despite the fact that the line of traffic had stopped to allow Sir Mark Prescott's string across the Bury Road at around 6.50 am, a drunk driver, who it seems was being pursued by the police, overtook the line of stationary cars and ploughed through the string at speed, throwing Colin and his mount high in the air. Horrific. I'd say that we got there about fifteen minutes afterwards, when the road was closed and the scene illuminated by flashing blue lights, and it was terrible just to discover the aftermath. Thank God they're both alive and not critically injured. I hope they throw the book at the bastard.

Thursday afternoon was also a sad occasion, when we bade farewell to Shirley Scott, whose husband Jimmy, as many of you will know, is Michael Stoute's long-standing travelling head lad. She and Jimmy have been good, kind friends to so many people in this town and around the world, myself included, and it seems so hard to accept that someone who until the last few months was so very much alive can just die at 53. It is, of course, hardest for Jimmy to accept this, but I hope that over the weeks and months his grief will lessen so that the happy memories outweigh the sorrow. We're with you, mate.

To happier topics - I had a special experience on Wednesday afternoon that I would recommend to anyone. I noticed that the Cambridge Arts Picture House was showing 'Leonard Cohen - I'm Your Man', which was a three-line whip for me. Although my sleeping patterns are getting back to normal, a matinee, rather than evening, show was the only feasible option, so that's how I spent a couple of mesmerizing hours on Wednesday. A trip to the cinema in the afternoon is always a special treat, being one of a very small audience always adds something (I was one of nine in the movie theatre), and it was just great. Basically, the film revolves around a concert in the Sydney Opera House in January 2005 where various really good singers (eg Jarvis Cocker, Rufus and Martha Wainright, Nick Cave, Beth Orton, Teddy Thompson etc.) sung his songs, accompanied by superb musicians; the songs are interspersed by clips of the singers explaining why they revere the maestro, and of Leonard musing on his life and works. Wonderful. To hear Nick Cave enthuse about how hearing 'Songs Of Love And Hate' revolutionized his Wangaratta adolescence was so moving, as were the various clips of Bono ("When I listen to his songs, I am humiliated and humbled") and The Edge expounding his merit. If it wouldn't be too sybaritic, I might go to watch it again next week. General consent would be that Jeff Buckley's rendition of 'Hallelujah' is the all-time great Leonard Cohen cover, but I'd say that Nick Cave's 'Suzanne' is right up there. As is his 'I'm Your Man'. As is Jarvis Cocker's 'I Can't Forget". And Teddy Thompson's 'The Future'. And ... But for really special moments, the master singing 'Tower Of Song" (of course), takes the biscuit. I'm not going to tell you why, because foreknowledge would spoil the moment. Just watch it.