Famous blue raincoat, again

Ah that's great. Photos galore on the past two blogs. And our best correspondent Problemwalrus has posted too. We've been very short of dialogue in recent chapters, so it was great to have the walrus back with us. It seems that 'flu, riding in the Walrus Hunter Chase, preparing for the 'people's race' and attending concerts at the Corn Exchange had kept him out of commission for a while, but it's great to have him back. All we need now is a few more bloggers.

If the walrus is going to more concerts, I can give him a tip which James passed on to me. James and I are very similar in that, while I can confirm that he's a very generous man and I like to think of myself as such too, he shares my belief that one shouldn't spend money unnecessarily. Parking near the hall costs money, so if one parks in Thriplow and walks in, one can save a couple of pounds. And not only that: in the next few weeks that would mean that one can see one of the country's best collections of daffodils. Furthermore, doing it this way makes the evening a much bigger event than it otherwise would have been: a blink-and-you'll-miss-it couple of hours becomes and unforgettable all-night excursion. I'm afraid that we won't have ready access to such useful tips henceforth, because James has decided to move on. That's rather sad really, and partly my fault I feel, but fortunately I am confident that our twenty-year friendship will survive, and that we won't have seen or heard the last of him. In his two stints working here he's become very much part of everything, and I am sure he'd be as unwilling to lose touch with us as we would be to lose touch with him. So money-saving advice will still be only a phone call away - even if one can be confident that such calls won't be lengthy or pre-6pm (if originated by him). And don't be surprised if you hear the sounds of bongoes emanating from the stable at some stage during the summer.

By a weird coincidence, when Martha and I were riding round Hamilton Hill this morning (on Imperial Decree, who is really learning to focus on her work now that she is back cantering, and Belle Annie respectively), we bumped into Martin Banks. I hadn't seen him for ages, so it was appropriate that he should appear on James' final day working here. Martin, of course, was the villain, who eventually came to be something of a hero, of the story of James' missing Famous Blue Raincoat last April. I don't think I ever did recount it in full, but suffice to say that the raincoat was eventually retrieved, and that even James could see the funny side of it in the end. Going around Hamilton Hill makes rather a nice diversion, because one sees some different faces. A pair of talented riders on the circuit together today were the extremely nice apprentice Jerry O'Dwyer, who has enjoyed a deservedly successful winter, and Brian Reilly, which is an odd sight bearing in mind that Brian was warned off a month or so ago. But as Robbie Fitzpatrick, who was also recently disqualified, was riding at Lingfield today, I've given up trying to understand how these things work. What was then particularly pleasing was to see Peter Ryan riding out for Geoff Huffer. I hadn't seen Peter on a horse for years. You might remember him as the most promising conditional in the north a few years ago, but he had a very bad experience which caused his career to stall badly: he was given a long ban for riding a non-trier and, although I got the strong impression that he'd been riding to orders, the owner and trainer publicly distanced themselves from him afterwards, and he found himself very short of rides. Richard Guest was the only trainer to give him a go, and then he broke his leg very badly and had to pack it in. He was then working for Godolphin, but even his riding-out was very stop/start as he had to have more and more operations to get his leg back to something like normal. So sad for a man in his mid-20s, at most. He was kind enough to school Diamond Maxine for me over hurdles in the autumn of 2003, and did a really good job: he was back in Dubai by the time she won first time out at Fakenham that November, but I was very mindful of how much of the credit was due to him. I think his leg resumed playing him up the following year, but hopefully he's eventually back in better shape, and I was delighted to see him back in the plate.

The previous lot we'd had another Southfields Saturday brahma: after the shock of being caught out by Luca's marathon trial last weekend, this time it was Sir Mark Prescott who bowled us a googly by walking his string for a large part of the circuit. At least Luca's ploy was permissible! I was on Lady Suffragette this time, with visiting rider Jamie Trotter with me on Mattie Stokes, and both horses are so straightforward and amenable that we were able to wait for the obstruction to move on before having a very enjoyable spin along on the grass. Gemma on Bilkie and Martha on Glen Garioch were more inconvenienced than we were, and two other strings had their work disrupted even further, but no lives were lost.

Since then, it's just been an enjoyable afternoon in front of the television, with superb Grand National trials by Simon and Nil Desperandum, and a really good win on the unbelievably testing ground by a sweet juvenile hurdler called Punjabi, a son of Komaite formerly with Geraldine Rees by now representing the great Nicky Henderson/Mick Fitzgerald combination (which I suspect will last for quite some time yet, despite Mick's supposedly imminent retirement). A little highlight for me was seeing a four-year-old called Harrisburg run second first time out in the concluding bumper on the bottomless ground at Kempton. He's by Alhaarth ex Pennsylvania, a mare who lived at Woodditton Stud while I worked there. He's like his mum in being a strong chesnut with a big white face. She should have been a good broodmare, being by Northjet from Ian Balding's lovely Mrs Penny, winner of (if I remember rightly) the Cheveley Park and Prix de Diane, but wasn't: she was a disastrous producer, but perhaps now she has finally (and I presume posthumously, because she'd be a good age now) left something nice - although the fact that he's running in bumpers suggests that he followed the family trait by having problems in his younger days.

This action meant that the racing in the afternoon was as entertaining as that in the morning, because ATR had brought us our usual three-hour slot of thunder from down under, 2.30 to 5.30. Great sport from Caulfield and Rosehill. Every race was a highlight. With two Group Ones on the card at Caulfield - plus the St. George Stakes which, although Group Two, was Group One standard, and a three-year-old race containing both the easy Derby winner Efficient and Elvstroem's supremely-talented Fusaichi Pegasus half-brother Haradasun - it seems strange to pick out a race in Sydney, but the Hobartville Stakes was a wonderful race, with the duel between dear Gold Edition and the magnficent Mutawaajid. These two superb three-year-olds have been campaigned in contrasting styles: her record is now 23-12-6-1, while his is five from five after defeating her today. He's just such a magnificent horse, which he is entitled to be, being by Redoute's Choice from a Vain half-sister to Shaftesbury Avenue: that's a list of three of the best-looking and mightiest horses you'd ever see (I never saw Vain, but have seen pictures of him - I have a photo of him being led back in after winning the Slipper, and he looks a monster). Coincidentally, yesterday saw the debut here of another Shaftesbury Avenue, who ran unplaced in a maiden on the all-weather. He's by Fusaichi Pegasus, but he's now (I presume) a very cheap cast-off from a major operation, being trained by Britain's smallest trainer, Jimmy O'Reilly who, although a very competent trainer and nice man, would work on a budget smaller than himself. I'm not expecting this Shaftesbury Avenue to match the achievements of his beautiful antipodean namesake.

30,000 lb of bananas - but no photos

Mmm. No photos attached to recent postings as yet. That's not very good. I'll have to drop a few hints (such as this) and see what happens. I have, of course, been shown how to put them up myself, but of course that's like getting some kid and telling how to put on a saddle and bridle and how to jump on the horse and take it for a canter across the Heath, and then having him just do it. The best one could hope for is that he wouldn't attempt it, because it is far easier seen than done. (Editor's note: stop whining and simply come and ask me to upload the pics for you).

We've had a few bangings around the place today, because John Harkness ("Jinx", of Pebbles fame) and Paul Morris ("Gorgeous") have been in the other half of the yard doing some repair work to ceilings and roofs (rooves?) in preparation for Paul's dad Dave ("Little Dave") moving his string of around eight horses in there early next month. Dave's been across the street in Hackness Villa Stables for I'd guess about fifteen years, but he's about to sell that and is moving into the ten boxes which Jane Chapple-Hyam vacated a few weeks ago when she found she needed more space than was available here. Jinx was upbraiding me for having let the premises get so run down, but when I told him that the reason was a combination of stupidity and laziness, he realised that there weren't many charges he could lay against me that I hadn't already laid myself. I've been telling Dave that I expect him to send out a deluge of winners in the near future - and I'll watch the markets to see when it's about to start - because he has Jinx, Paul and Nigel Walker riding out for him just now; I've said that if he can't win a few races with their assistance, then his horses really are very, very poor.

It'll enjoy having that team in the stable. It's been good to see Jinx around since he reappeared in the town last year. Possibly one would call him an acquired taste, but he's a man I respect. He left Clive Brittain a year or two after Pebbles retired, and worked for Luca Cumani in the late '80s when I was there. I hadn't seen him for years until he started work for Willie Musson last summer, and he has been with Dave for a month or two now. This morning I saw another of Luca's former lads whom I hadn't seen for years and years: Jock McAleese. He was riding a horse for Giles Bravery, his presence doubling the size of Giles' string. It's strange that I hadn't seen Jock for so long, because I would presume he's been living in Newmarket all the time, but I doubt I'd have laid eyes on him for fifteen years. Perhaps he's been in prison, although what he'd have done to get locked up for that length of time is hard to think. I'm sure that Richard Sims will remember Jock as the most unforgettable person he's ever worked with, while other people who worked there at the time will remember Jock as one of the two most unforgettable people they've ever worked with.

I was talking with another former colleague when Jock amazed me by riding past, as I'd fallen in with Stuart Jackson after coming off the Cambridge Road all-weather. I'd had a really enjoyable gallop on Mattie Stokes, following Gemma on Lady Suffragette for a mile, and Stuart had been up before us in Geoff Huffer's string. I caught up with Stuart walking home, and remarked that, for a man who decided he was too old to ride out half a dozen years ago, I've been seeing him in the saddle a lot recently. Of course we've got Cliff Rimmer riding out at 73, or possibly 74, but for normal people there's usually a finite length to one's career in the saddle. Stuart surprised me by telling me that he'll be 67 later this year, which is astonishing, as he's riding really well and full of confidence. He said he'd been riding Cockney Rebel, Geoff's good Val Royal colt who won a nice two-year-old maiden first time out last summer on the July Course and then, I seem to remember, ran placed in one of the big sales races, but recently he'd told Geoff that the horse, who apparently is a handful, was getting too strong for him, and needed a younger rider. So Geoff had got Michael Tebbutt to in to ride him, and the horse had reared up in the yard the first morning, thrown Michael off and he'd injured his shoulder. Jason Weaver was galloping him today, which was a surprising and pleasing sight. Stuart was instead on a very nice unraced In The Wings colt owned by Usk Valley Stud, the type of solid and strong, and feisty, horse that looks like he'll be a decent horse in a few months but who one knows at first glance is still currently unraced. If I'm up to riding horses like that, and riding them as well as Stuart, in the second half of my 60s I'll be very happy.

Riding out here seems to have been a lucky charm, because Kirsty Milczarek rode a winner on her only ride later in the day when she had been here last Thursday (pictured above on mattie Stokes), and then Tom Greenway rode a winner on Monday after his schooling session for us on Saturday (here with Lady Suffragette). Kirsty's winner was for Neville Callaghan. It was backed from 12/1 to 15/2, so I bet she was relieved that it won: no doubt she'd have been made aware of any errors she was deemed to have made had it been beaten. Tom Greenway's winner was for his boss Richard Ford at Market Rasen. In both jockeys' case it was their first ride since being here, which was nice. Kirsty is due to ride Millyjean for us at Lingfield next Tuesday. We've unfortunately, just when I thought 'the virus' had been and gone, got some more horses with 'flu, but again I think that the horses who have it have it, and the ones who don't don't. (If that makes sense). The difference between the healthy majority and the few who are poorly seems clear cut, so hopefully Millyjean, who seems very well, will still be in that state in another six days. Certainly Bilkie proved yesterday that he's in good health, because he ran a nice race on his resumption. It was the best he's ever run on the flat, so let's hope he can remain problem-free and will be able to build on that effort.

The day before Millyjean is due to run we will have, I think, our first Pedigree Club meeting since Leslie's death. Ruth has sweetly invited us to continue meeting in her house and to make use of Leslie's library, and I am very keen that we do. It has become apparent since Leslie's death that the gatherings which he hosted had become an important part of his life over the past year, as they had been for us. That's so touching, because of course he was the teacher and we were the students, so the sessions were far more for our benefit than for his. It was an honour to be invited to his funeral on Monday, the congregation at which was largely composed of people who had been close to him for many years. It was a very emotional occasion indeed. Will Edmeades gave a lovely eulogy, in which he recounted his first meeting with Leslie. Will was assistant trainer to Peter Walwyn in the early '80s when Leslie came to the stable as Lord Howard de Walden's racing and stud manager, to inspect Lord Howard's horses. Will said that, although he was only a small amount of years younger than Leslie, he was very much in awe of and "star-struck" by the visitor, who held probably the best and most senior and respected position in the bloodstock world at the time and who was clearly a lot of rungs farther up the ladder than he was; but that Leslie straightaway treated him like an equal, and they hit it off from the start and became close friends. I think that most people in the church would have spoken off a similar experience. It said a lot that so many of the people there were those who had formerly worked under or for Leslie, and to see the devotion which he had inspired in his subordinates. It was a special moment to meet Patrick Lennon, the former long-standing Plantation stud groom who, apparently, left the stud when Leslie retired because he said he couldn't face the idea of working there under any other manager; and to hear a very moved Sue Vary, who was the long-standing stud secretary under Leslie's managership and who has likewise moved on but who continued to help Leslie, read out a beautiful poem in the church. He was clearly a man who went through life treating people well irrespective of their place in society -and there aren't many people one can say that about - and it was a privilege and an inspiration to have known him.

(Some) debacles avoided

The week just ended started on a very sad note, as detailed in the previous blog, and that has inevitably cast a shadow over life. However, as far as the stable has gone, it's been a fairly straightforward and satisfactory week. I've even won something, which was really nice. Not a race, admittedly, but I'll soon have a book on the way courtesy of the Racing Post, having unexpectedly found that my nominating letter for the paper's Greatest Ride Ever compilation has been a prize-winning one. Like most of the few winners we send out from here, that was a very pleasant surprise. The odds-on shot got home with Fred Winter's heroic effort on the bridle-less Mandarin in the 1962 Grand Steeplechase de Paris being acclaimed the greatest feat of race-riding horsemanship ever, but a long-shot sneaked into the frame with my nomination of Vince "Smudger" Smith for his effort in the 1994 Pagham Selling Hurdle at Fontwell Park winning a 'highly commended'. A letter which begins with the paragraph "Seeing Vince Smith now, as a successful and portly trainer," (makes him sound like Paul Nicholls! - or Barry Baldwin) "it is easy to forget that he was once relatively slim and a jockey. In fact, even when he was a jockey it was easy to forget he was a jockey, because he never used to get many rides." isn't an obvious candidate to catch the eye, but there you are. And, as I said at the time, GOOD OLD SMUDGER!

We've made good use of Southfields grass this week, which has been pleasing because it's a great place to exercise horses. They've got to be reasonably well into their preparations to be going around the 14-furlong (approx) circuit, but when they're ready for it it's a great place to work them. We've had a couple of guest riders to take Mattie Stokes around there (Kirsty Milczarek midweek, when his owner Tom Rossiter came to watch him, and Ollie Marsh today) but the true brahma was when Martha (on Glen Garioch) and I (on Belle Annie) went round there yesterday. As I've said, we're making good use of it, but yesterday I discovered that Luca Cumani is making considerably greater use of it. Basically, Southfields is a big flat field, behind the Rowley Mile grandstand, of at least 500 acres. There are two straight parallel canters of somewhere between 1800 and 2000m, one heading away from home and one coming back. One can either canter all the way down to the end, by the rubbing house, and walk across the hundred yards or so to the start of the strip of ground heading for home, or one can canter two thirds of the way down and go round a 180 degree bend marked out on the grass to take one back onto the strip heading for home. Using that method, one has effectively a long U-shaped canter of around a mile and three-quarters. There is also a bend at the home end marked out, which I had thought was used by a horse once every few years, so that after completing one lap one can set out on a second (or third ...) if one is training a horse for a marathon. Occasionally one sees a long-distance steeple-chaser setting out onto a second round, but you wouldn't bank on seeing this every year.

Yesterday Martha and I arrived on Southfields at around ten on a beautiful morning, and there were horses everywhere. I'd never seen so many horses on Southfields at one time: Luca Cumani had a string of three-year-olds cantering around the circuit (pictured here leaving Southfields after cantering for several miles), an army of them spaced out at intervals of about 50m. It was very impressive. "Bloody hell", I said, " this is busy - but if we trot down to the start, we'll be jumping off just as his horses are coming off, so we'll be out of their way, and they'll be gone by the time we get back to the end in a few minutes". As Martha and I jumped off, I was looking over my right shoulder towards Glen, to make sure Martha was kicking forward to jump off nice and briskly so that our pair of inexperienced horses got off to a nice motivated and organised start, which isn't always easy on a youngster on a canter whose start is confusingly pointing into the middle of nowhere and directly away from home. Anyway, both horses jumped off in a nice collected and brisk manner, and after about fifty yards I looked forward to concentrate on the way ahead - F**K!!! - I couldn't believe what I was seeing, as Luca's squadron were rounding the clubhouse turn and setting off on an unheard-of second circuit, and we were on a collision course to land smack in the middle of the vanguard, about 100 yards ahead. Any other trainer and I'd have just said "Bugger 'em!", but I retain too much respect for Luca to ram his string; but obviously the last thing I wanted to do, having got these two young horses into the habit of jumping off in a nicely forward-going manner, was to pull up. There was only one (not really allowed) option, and that was to make use of the fact that the field is really big, so I shouted to Martha "Follow me" and swung off to the right so we cantered off parallel to Luca's horses, but 200 yards or so from them and out of harm's way. We went right down to the bottom, pulled up and walked across to the start of the homeward strip and then had a lovely canter home, and found Luca's horses gone by the time we got to the end. It turned out to be a lovely ride, because our two mounts settled into cruise control and came back at a nice strong canter like two old pros, but it could so easily have been a complete debacle. Emma and Steve McCormick had gone out to watch and Emma took some nice photos (two of which have found their way onto the horse biography section), and they enjoyed observing the chaos. Emma's final observation was that when she took a few shots of Luca's steaming horses eventually walking off the Heath, she couldn't tell who were more tired, the horses or the riders.

I then ended the morning with another example of order being snatched from the jaws of chaos. Quite by chance, I'd seen the claiming jumps jockey Tom Greenway, who actually lives in Cheshire and works for Richard Ford up there, riding out for Paul D'Arcy mid-morning; so I called him - I still had his number on my phone from when he'd ridden Ngauruhoe at Market Rasen last winter - and asked him if he'd be free at the end of the morning, and he agreed to meet me at the Links at 11.45 to jump Lady Suffragette over some hurdes. I'd actually jumped her over a few logs the previous day when I'd taken her up there to gallop, but basically, although she can jump (as her photo in the biography section shows) she hadn't jumped a hurdle since Matthew Smith (who is still injured) had schooled her last summer. And she can be a dunce at times. I assured Tom that she knew what to do and wouldn't need a lead - but she was terrible. He got her to clamber over the line of three hurdles, but it wasn't a very inspiring sight. She really needed a lead! And then our saviour appeared. Out of nowhere, Michael and Georgina Bell, with their excellent son Nick, appeared, and pointed to two horses which I hadn't even noticed cantering in the distance. "Would you like a lead for your horse?" he asked. Would I? This was a life-saver.

Their daughter Amy, along with Georgina's brother Andrew Lillingston (pictured), who was visiting for the weekend, had brought his two hunters up to have some fun jumping a few hurdles. What was the chance of that? And Michael was so kind, immediately offering help as soon as he saw that it would be useful. So Lady Suffragette went up the line of six hurdles twice behind her excellent pair of volunteer lead-horses, and a complete debacle of a schooling session turned into most successful exercise. Many thanks to Michael, Amy and Andrew, and also to Tom Greenway for riding her so nicely and at such short notice. He says he'll be in town again before too long and can school her again before riding her on her jumps debut, which is pencilled in to be at Plumpton the day before Cheltenham. (Mention of Ngauruhoe above prompts the memory of her and Matthew Smith finishing a very creditable third at Towcester last Easter Day behind Heathcote, which is looking pretty good form now after Heathcote's win in the Tote Gold Trophy at Newbury eight days ago. Ah well.).

There was a sad chapter to the story of yesterday's excursion to the Links, as I had to ride past a dead pony on the way up there. The Thurlow Hunt met in Tattersalls yesterday morning, and apparently as the field moved away from town on the section of land adjacent to the Cambridge Road approaching the Links a big horse kicked a pony in a completely freak accident, shattering the pony's leg so severely the vet was summoned to put it down straightaway. The poor pony, and the poor girl who was on him. It was just such a terribly sad thing to happen on what should have been a very happy occasion. However seasoned one is to the tragedies which can befall animals, the death of a loved horse or pony is invariably a horrible and shocking event, so this poor young girl must have been just so upset. It seems to be the story of life: even when things are running smoothly, sadness is never far away.

So that, unfortunately, cast a cloud over what was otherwise a pleasant and satisfactory morning. Bilkie is due to run on Tuesday, which I'm really looking forward to as he's such a dear horse and he hasn't run for ages, and I gave him his final gallop along the Cambridge Road all-weather first lot yesterday. As I was walking away from the gallop, some of Marco Botti's horses were circling on the Heath for a post-work debriefing, and Robert Acton and Gary Coffey (former and current managers of Newsells Park Stud, which has horses with Marco this year) appeared. Bilkie is a Newsells Park protege (not that they advertise that), so it was rather nice as I greeted them to alert them to my mount's identity. They're both very nice men and, while Bilkie certainly won't feature in any history of the stud, they were kind enough to show interest in his continued welfare (probably a better term than 'progress'). His lack of achievement notwithstanding, he's a grand horse. Let's hope he runs a nice race on Tuesday - but don't hold your breath!

Time to head outside and fetch the horses in from the field before it gets dark. After a relatively pleasant few days, the yard isn't too wet just now, but the field is still hock-deep. But the horses still love it - all the more so for the fact that they're only getting out for occasional treats while it's so muddy, rather than their normal daily sessions. I'll get this blog up, and we'll see if any accompanying photographs appear. (I still can't put them up). Emma and I had a pleasant hour or two in the Grosvenor Yard pub the other night to bid farewell to Aaron Bott, who has been at Darley for a few months selling nominations on secondment from Darley Australia. Aaron has been a big asset to the area, as he's a really nice guy. I believe and hope he's enjoyed his stint in the UK, and he's wisely planning to spend a couple of weeks travelling around the major cities of Europe (and I think his girlfriend is coming over from Aus to do the tour with him) to complete his travels in the best possible manner. So I hope he'll take some happy memories home with him. I hope I'll bump into him again at some point on the journey through life. There's a photo on my camera of him and a couple of his colleagues taken in the pub the other night which may find its way up here. If it does, you'll see him with Mark Dwyer (Chris's son) and Francis Graffard, but you'll note that the usually omni-present Mark McStay was conspicuous by his absence. Apparently he was in Ireland that day, doing God knows what: there was some talk of an interview with Coolmore, but I doubt anything will come of that.

For whom the bell tolls

"No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a Clod be washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promomtorie were, as well as if a Mannor of thy friends or thine owne were; any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee."

I'm very saddened to say that it was brought home to me last night that these words can be as pertinent now as they were when John Donne wrote them in 1624, because early yesterday evening, just as I was thinking that I would be writing a blog to report on what a nice weekend it had been, Jane Chapple-Hyam rang me to pass on the devastating news that Leslie Harrison had died that morning. This was completely out of the blue. Although Leslie never looked particularly well and one would probably have described him as underweight, and although his suddenly giving up smoking a few weeks ago had suggested that perhaps he had received a pretty dire medical wake-up call, one would have expected him to live another couple of decades. Apparently he began to feel unwell through the morning, and just faded and died in Ruth's arms. He was 63. It is just so sad to think that suddenly Leslie has no more life to enjoy, and that Ruth has had to suffer, and is suffering, this terrible sadness. As the bell tolls for Leslie, we are all diminished, because he was such a big part of life, a wise and friendly face who was just part of Newmarket and of the bloodstock world, and who suddenly isn't there any more. He has enriched my life hugely, and I would be just one of thousands who would say that.

As you may have picked up from previous postings, our Monday evening Pedigree Club gatherings in Leslie and Ruth's house have been a very big part of our lives over the past year. They have made us so welcome, made us feel completely at home in their house while Leslie has led us through some truly enjoyable, very stimulating and very funny, discussions. Sadly I missed last Monday's gathering, as I was under the weather and my energy levels were at rock bottom, but I was so looking forward to the meeting which Leslie would have hosted this evening. I happened to notice a couple of weeks ago that an Australian-bred Group One winner in South Africa last month, Sun Classique, was by Fuji Kiseki from Elfenjer, by Last Tycoon from Gamine. And, if I remember rightly, SA Oaks winner Gamine was one of the very few good horses sired by Kris' and Diesis' brother Keen. I was disappointed last week not to be well enough to bring that one up last Monday, and was really looking forward to asking Leslie this evening whether he'd noticed that Keen had appeared in the pedigree of a recent Group One winner. I suspect he wouldn't have picked up on it, and I know he'd have really enjoyed finding out, and that it would have been the trigger to a good discussion as we prompted him for his recollections of Keen. And now that opportunity has gone. Leslie can't enjoy the discovery, and all his knowledge has died with him. I can't claim to have known Leslie closely, but I liked him and respected him very much, and greatly treasured the welcome which I received every week from him and Ruth, and the discussions which we had. The bell tolls for us all.

So that, I'm afraid, was a really shitty way to end what had up to that point been a really pleasant weekend. Emma had organised a syndicate outing to visit Anis Etoile at Kerry's farm, but this turned out to be less of an event than we'd hoped - but no less enjoyable for that. Steve McCormick's brother Ronan had a long-planned visit to England for the weekend and was keen to see the filly, so we made a long-range plan to make the journey up to Norfolk, and the obvious thing to do was to encourage all the English-based share-holders to join us. All were keen to do so, but obviously circumstances would become clearer nearer the time. As it transpired, as the weekend approached, it turned out that Ronan's schedule would be too tight for him to come, and then all bar Anna Ridges of the home team found that they couldn't make it. So at the end of a dull, grey, wet Saturday morning, Anna appeared here and she, Emma and I loaded ourselves into the car, put the windscreen wipers onto full, and headed north. And we had a LOVELY time. Kerry had very kindly offered to provide lunch for the visitors, and went well beyond the call of duty in laying on a really lovely lunch. It was great to spend a few hours with her and Steve, plus their two excellent children Joshua and Eleanor, and we didn't hit the road home, with very full bellies, until it was getting dark. The real brahma of the visit was, unbelievably, that Anis Etoile was very lame when we ventured out into the rain to see her! Poor Kerry must have been so embarrassed at this astonishing coincidence, as it transpired that she had had a foot abscess appear that day. She is in a field with Ben Bhraggie, who is a real prick to have anything done to his feet, and I was just chuckling to myself at the coincidence of it all, and said to Kerry, "Well it could have been worse: it could have been Ben Bhraggie" (who had a foot abscess last month, and caused Kerry a huge amount of trouble as she dealt with it). To this, Kerry pertinently replied, "Well, yes, except that he's not the one you've brought Anna to see"! It's lucky that Anna knows horses and knows us well enough not to suspect a cover-up, because in retrospect I can see that it could have been suggested that I took the discovery of Anis Etoile's lameness too light-heartedly. Basically, long-term it is of no significance whatsoever, and the coincidence of the timing was amusingly bizarre, but someone who knows me and horses less well might have thought that I was either not treating a problem with the seriousness it deserved, or was taking a misleading jolly view of things to brush a problem under the carpet. But really it isn't a problem at all, and it was just very funny - although poor Kerry obviously didn't think so at the time. I took a few photos in the gloom, one of which has made its way onto the site elsewhere; it's either in Emma's blog or in the latest news section.

I also have some photos on my camera which Tim, Anna's husband who arrived at our house on Saturday evening, having spent the afternoon at Stamford Bridge watching Chelsea play, took on Sunday morning as Anna, Emma and I went for a ride up Warren Hill. That was really nice, especially as pleasant spring-like weather had made a brief return. One of these photos is somewhere on the site too, so I don't know if there'll be anything to illustrate this posting. You'll have seen from a picture which I took out of the window of Olly and Katie picking their way up the snowy stable-yard last Thursday which has been attached to my previous rambling that the prediction therein that snow was about to arrive did indeed come true. However, it's been and gone, and we're back to being as wet as we were in the first half of January.

Something else you might like to see is the page of horse biographies, because it had been becoming irritatingly clear to me, whenever I looked at the page, that most of what was on there was terribly out of date. So a few days ago I wrote out new descriptions for all the animals who are here (although I naturally didn't pen anything for Panto, leaving that important assignment to Emma) and Emma put them up yesterday. There are actually still two or three descriptions which to my eyes stick out like sore and inaccurate thumbs, because I only wrote pieces for horses who are here at the moment (and for Ben and Anis Etoile) and have found that that leaves us with some outdated biographies for former inmates (who may or may not be going to return) still up there. But you can't have too much (mis)information! And if you don't know the horse isn't here, and don't know that what's said isn't really relevant any more, you won't realise that it's wrong. Anyway, if you're wondering about anything in training here, the likelihood is that what is up there now is a fairly accurate summary of its current state of play. And I couldn't have said that two days ago.

Winter wonderland

I'm aware that my photographic momentum has stalled, but I was kicking myself that I didn't have the camera in one of the many pockets on the several layers of clothing that swathed me as I watched the dawn break on Bilkie this morning. It was sensational. I don't think it would be fair to say that I have treated my lovely Christmas present as the spoilt kid does with his latest craze, as it's still very much on the go, but the first stalling of the momentum came when I broke it (I didn't really - it just exhibited a temporary malfunction which Emma was able to sort out, once I'd scrutinized the colossal instruction manual and declared it unfixable), and now I've rather driven myself into a cul-de-sac with it, because I still haven't mastered the skill of downloading its pictures. But as Gemma (on Millyjean) and I rode up past the cricket pitch at the top of Hamilton Road, her first words were "I hope you've got your camera with you - and you're on a horse quiet enough to stand while you line up your shots". Sure enough, we crossed the Cambridge Road and the view across the railway line to Woodditton hill was divine. The very hard frost on the fields, hedges and trees, the white, the mist, the grey, the glow as the sun approached the horizon, the pink and the gold, and even the veiled but brilliant blue if one looked directly overhead. It was probably just as well I didn't have the camera, because it's only little and double-thickness gloves, allied to my innate clumsiness, probably would have seen me properly break it this time by dropping it - and Bilkie would then have been a moral to tread on it - but it was just such a lovely way to start the day. By the time we'd come back across the Cambridge Road to get back on the Heath and had walked down next to the Devil's Dyke to turn round to start galloping on the frost-free polytrack - Millyjean from the 3-furlong pole, Bilkie from the start - the sun had poked above the horizon, and we turned into a sky on fire. But I definitely wouldn't have been wise to try to take a photo at the gallop. Not in gloves, anyway. (By the way, for some really good photos, it's worth going on to Emma's page on this site and clicking on to Jeremy Early's website link. He's a wonderful photographer - and that's only his hobby, as he's equally creative with his pen, as some of Timeform's finest essays prove - who really captures the beauty of the natural world that he so obviously loves, and quarter of an hour perusing his site is time very well spent).

Anyway, the upshot of the gallops was that I haven't entered Millyjean for Southwell next Tuesday. Gemma said she lacked her usual zest. I don't think there's anything wrong with her, although I wouldn't rule that out. She actually came home remarkably unstressed for a horse who normally puts her whole soul into a gallop, and my guess is that she didn't relish the unusually deep surface: because of the extremely hard frost (-6), the gallop had been harrowed very deeply before dawn, which was a good effort by the Heathmen, so it was, in addition to being frost-free, very deep. If she didn't like that, which I suspect, there would be no point in running her at Southwell - and if I'm wrong and she actually is ailing for something, she wouldn't want to be running next week anyway. There is a fillies' race at Lingfield 20 days from now, and she can wait for that.

I wouldn't rule out sickness, because we have had some horses under the weather, as mentioned in previous postings, but happily we seem to be coming out of the woods in that respect. Like Mark Johnston, I don't believe in "the virus", this mystery ailment whose only apparent symptom is the horse running badly. Mark describes it well as "poor performance syndrome". I definitely do believe in equine illness, but I feel that illnesses usually have symptoms, and the few horses we've had ill have had definite symptoms: coughing, dirty noses, elevated temperatures, loss of appetite. I'm pleased to say that only two remain on the sick list, with Belle Annie having returned to the ranks of the healthy. And the only two yet to regain full health are nearly there, with appetites and temperatures back to normal. It's actually worked out quite well, as it's taken a bit of pressure of us at what is normally a very busy time, as it enabled us to give the horses in work very long exercises (not Mark Johnston's supposed 2-hour lots admittedly, although covering the ground we cover would take most strings two hours, because we trot everywhere we can, rather than AMBLE EXTREMELY SLOWLY, which inexplicably is the preferred style of most Newmarket conditioners, if describing someone who lets a horse amble extremely slowly as a 'conditioner' isn't too much a contradiction in terms) which is perfect at this time of year when the horses need to get the slow miles into their legs, both to build them up and to keep on top of them at a time when freshness can be a problem. And, as I've said on a previous posting, I'm always quite happy to see horses sick at this time of year, because I believe it builds up a few antibodies which will come in handy when we need them to be healthy during the summer.

It's hard to be down-hearted on such a lovely day as today - bitterly cold, the frost hasn't even begun to move in areas which the sun hasn't reached, but gloriously sunny - but one slight cloud on the horizon is some bad news which I heard yesterday, that Jack Banks has had a stroke. Fortunately, as strokes go it wasn't a bad one, but there's no such thing as a good stroke, and apparently it's knocked him about a bit. Colin Casey told me yesterday that Stuart Jackson had told him, and that Stuart has been spending a lot of time with Jack since it happened (about a month ago, I think) and being typically a big help to him. Coincidentally I saw Stuart riding out today, for the first time for months: I don't see Geoff Huffer's string that often, and I think Stuart only rides out rarely nowadays. So Stuart was able to fill me in, and promised to give Jack my best when he sees him this evening. I know that anyone reading this who knows Jack will be saddened to hear of his bad luck, as you'd struggle to find a more respected horseman or a more decent man. Funnily enough, I'd been thinking about Jack on and off since our holiday to Australia in November, without seeing him, as our visit to Anne Taylor's stable at Benalla had featured several references to one of the best horse she's trained, Rose Of Mooncoin (named after Mooncoin, a place in Ireland whence her family hails). Of course this brought the other Rose Of Mooncoin to my mind, quite a good Brief Truce (I think) filly which Jack used to train. He must still be involved with her in retirement, because last year Neville Callaghan trained quite a nice three-year-old colt called Louie Louie, by King Charlemagne (he must be one of King Charlemagne's best horses, which isn't saying a great deal) ex Rose Of Mooncoin, who is raced by "Jack Banks Racing'. Let's hope Jack is able to enjoy her offspring for many years to come.

The previous paragraph seems to feature several coincidences, and another remarkable one came up today. I've started my own Herculean labour today of cleaning out my own personal Augean stable, in this case my 'office'. (You might be able to guess that the idea of my job didn't spring initially from me). The re-cycling industry won't know what's hit it. But actually there won't be nearly as much paper to be re-cycled as the originator of this plan had in mind, because the reason for a lot of the junk being kept in the first place is that I want to keep it. As I was sorting through the a small part of the paper accumulation of my life this arvo, a torn and yellowed page from the Melbourne Age, Tuesday 11th March 1997, came to hand. The main headline was 'Octagonal defies the odds', while the lesser headline was 'Mishaps to two greats sour grand occasion'. As mentioned in the previous posting, Lawrence's horse Blimey O'Reilly won the Waikato Guineas in New Zealand on Saturday. Prompted in part by this, I used one of my occasional anonymous 'grey panel' slots on thoroughbredinternet to write a Last Tycoon appreciation, which was largely a (his son) O'Reilly appreciation. I alerted Lawrence to this piece, as I thought he'd like to read it, and ditto Joff. So today I received an email from Joff saying that it had been love at first sight for him when he saw O'Reilly, and that he'd been sure he'd become a good stallion. I was slightly surprised by this, because I couldn't remember O'Reilly racing in Australia, and when I'd looked up his stud credentials only form in New Zealand appeared to be shown. And then this afternoon I chanced upon this long-buried cutting. The two mishaps at Flemington on Australian Cup Day 1997 were Doriemus suffering a bleeding attack behind Octagonal, and O'Reilly breaking down in the Newmarket Handicap. So there it was. He was champion three-year-old sprinter in NZ, they'd brought him to Melbourne for the Newmarket, for which he started 11/4 favourite, and he broke down in the race and was pulled up 400m from home. And there's a photo to prove it, Lance O'Sullivan leading him off the track above the caption 'Lance O'Sullivan inspects his mount, the NZ star O'Reilly, after the colt broke down yesterday'. Very sad - but, as we now know, a story with a very happy ending. This, as you can guess, is one of the many bits of paper which I haven't thrown away today.

Never mind, I'll have plenty of further opportunities to throw stuff away over the next few days as the forecasters tell us we'll be snowed in in the morning. Great! I love it. We'll have the Heath to ourselves, and we won't have to hear any more about global warming for a week or two.

A dull day

Today's been a rather depressing day. At least I've got something right, which was to forecast a couple of days ago that our early spring would be a flash in the pan. It's now bloody cold. A hard frost last night was followed by a morning of freezing fog and, although the sun did break through for a while, it was back to fog by early afternoon, although at least by this time it was no longer freezing - by about two degrees.

At that time I should have been at Kempton, but when I'd got into my car to leave I'd found the battery too flat to start the car. In retrospect I shouldn't have been taken by surprise in this way, because I've been making the usual winter mistake of only starting the car up once a week or so, and then making journeys of a mile or so with the heater etc on. It had started rather awkwardly the last time I'd had it out, so this time it didn't even do that. I then spent too much time failing to solve the problem, so by the time I got around to thinking up alternative ways of getting to Kempton, it was too late. Emma had left earlier in the day, going to the races via a friend's house in Berkshire, so I called her to ask her to man the ship single-handedly. This was rather tough on her, as it was the first time she'd been in sole charge of saddling duties (although I gather Marco Botti, who had trained the first winner, was kind enough to give her a hand) and Panto is the most worrying horse to saddle, being so lean that the saddle if not well secured would be heading backwards before he'd even left the parade ring. I always worry when saddling him up, so I'd guess Emma would have been full of concerns - and that's over and above the fact that the dear horse has become such a pet that we'd be worrying at full steam anyway. However, all went well - apart from the fact that he ran poorly, like a flat horse at the end of his preparation, looking as if he needs about twice the distance he should. So that was thoroughly dispiriting, so kicking around at home while all the best laid plans went astray was a fairly demoralizing way to spend the day.

I take it to heart when a horse runs badly. Or really when a horse runs differently to how I expect, which basically means badly: if I didn't think the horse would run well, 99 times out of 100 I wouldn't be running it. (So don't bother ever asking me if I fancy any particular runner - if I didn't think the horse was ready to run well, and if I didn't think the race would be suitable, I wouldn't be running the horse). I feel a good trainer should know how the horse will perform, and also should not have horses running badly. I was ashamed of myself when Lady Suffragette ran last Sunday, and today was our first runner since then, so I'm now doubly down on myself. Perhaps Panto is succumbing to the cold/'flu/illness which has hit some of them, although he's shown no symptoms, or perhaps he's just a horse who needs to be raced infrequently, which is possible as there's nothing of him. That's his third race in a month, so that to him could be like seven or eight to a more robust animal. Who knows? I'll just have to keep my eyes a bit more open. The one consolation, of course, is that everyone else makes these mistakes. Whenever I have a horse run really badly, I console myself by thinking that ours was not the only horse to run out the back, because it's very rare, virtually however badly the horse runs, that one actually finishes last, so there's usually someone else - and very often one of the supposed best, although probably not in a Class 7 race in the middle of winter - getting things even more wrong. Lady Suffragette, terribly though she ran, actually beat about four or five. Panto had one or two behind him today (thank God!). And it doesn't happen that often to one of our runners, simply because we have so few - imagine having the best part of a thousand runners a year! You'd have some depressing days then. I finished Mark Johnston's book this arvo, to take my mind of things going wrong here, and the poor patch he endured last May and June must have had him tearing his hair out. So it happens to the best of us/them.

It was a double disappointment that Panto couldn't manage to put up a better show, because I was hoping that he'd be the second leg of a mighty double. This non-eventuating double was initiated by Blimey O'Reilly, owned in partnership by Lawrence Wadey and winner on Saturday of the Waikato Guineas in New Zealand. That was just tremendous. I knew he was running, so when I got up I looked on thoroughbredinternet, but the results weren't in. After I'd ridden one lot (Lawrence's horse Bilkie) I looked again, and there it was. Wonderful. I went into Yahoo to send Lawrence a congratulatory email, and found that he'd already sent me a report of the race, which was great to read and to share the excitement. The horse was a 35/1 shot, which must have added to the magic. He's trained by Ross Elliott, who already held a high place in my esteem, thanks mainly to the huge part he played in one of the most exciting races ever, the 1992 Cox Plate. Ross is big by jockey standards, so he rode mainly over jumps (for John Wheeler in NZ), but he was extremely talented and extremely aggressive in the Kieren Fallon mould, so Wheeler would put him up on the flat when he could do the weights. Jim Cassidy usually rode dear little Rough Habit, but Ross rode him in the Cox Plate, when I guess horses aged five or more would have had 57 or 57.5, or even 58, and the most thrilling of thrilling finishes ensued. The front-running Solvit and David Walsh won the race, but only by a lip. Ross just forced Rough Habit up into a non-existent gap around the home turn, his brave mount never flinched as Ross just threw everything at him, and they only just failed. It shouldn't have been possible for them to get the run they got, and you certainly wouldn't think the Aussies would make way for a Kiwi jumps jockey in the Cox Plate, but they got it. A wonderful race. And now Ross is even higher in my regard than ever.

Sadly Panto couldn't match Blimey O'Reilly's efforts, and this was after the first attempt at a mighty double had also come unstuck. Spaceage Juliet, aka Joolzy (see photo gallery) ran at Wodonga for Joff and his Empire, but she too failed to make the frame. That wasn't a huge surprise second up and still over 1200m, so no doubt she'll have her day soon enough. In the end, we actually came close to seeing an unusual double of a kind, because dear old Critical Stage, our former inmate who won four races in the 1997 Partnership colours of Lawrence, Gerry Grimstone and Bill Benter and who has won a few hurdle races for Jimmy Frost's stable since being sold three years ago, very nearly won the last race, a two-miler, at Kempton today. Hadden Frost rode him (very well) and was only caught in the final stride, as Neil Callan got himself out of jail with some frantic riding to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat on the Stuart Williams-trained favourite Noble Minstrel, a four-year-old son of Fantastic Light and Irish Cesarewitch winner Sweetness Herself, whose previous offspring include the talented but quirky stayer Jagger, who won a few nice races here when trained by Gerard Butler and who is now with David Hayes. Neil had found himself short of room on Noble Minstrel for longer than he was expecting and his mount would have been an unlucky loser, but all was well for him that ended well - but dear old Crit ran a blinder. Jimmy Frost is doing wonders to keep him going so well at the age of eight in his seventh consecutive year of racing, but even more remarkable were two horses who made the frame in the second race. It was only a 0-45 contest, but credit has to go to the two place-getters in a three-way photo: 14-year-old Montecristo, winner of 18 races (the most recent of which was in 2002), and 10-year-old Chimes At Midnight, who was third in the St Leger in 2000 and whose most recent win came in a Group Three at the Curragh in June 2001 (in fact, that was possibly his most recent placing, prior to today). Amazing.

An early, and probably temporary, spring

We're having some lovely weather. I never thought I'd say that during the winter, but it hasn't rained for over a week, and it's very mild. Yesterday, 1st February, was a glorious spring day. Mind you, I wouldn't go overboard about global warming, because it seems as if it just happens that we haven't had many north or north east winds. When we got them for two or three days last week we soon started to descend into winter proper. And there's still plenty of time for them to turn back to that direction again before we're out of the woods. But as things are now, it's both mild and dry, which is rare so we'll enjoy it while it lasts. The horses are particularly enjoying it, as we've had some out of the field in the afternoons, which we hadn't been doing, other than on Sundays when they weren't ridden, while the field was under water. It's still deep mud there - but just not quite as bad - which is particularly appreciated by Brief, Jill and Millyjean, who are three real hippoes who just love to wallow. I took one or two poor photographs yesterday to illustrate the point, so if I get some help one of them could find its way to accompanying this piece.

We're unusually quiet in the stable just now. I'd normally think of January and February as just about our busiest months, but just as we were starting to get busy, we had a round of coughing arrive, so at any given time over the past three weeks there have probably been three or four horses 'off games'. Plus now Carol is back in action she's been looking at a few horses each Tuesday, and anything which requires treatment has a few days of rest afterwards. Which means that nobody is under much pressure, but that will change shortly when all the inmates are back in their normal routines. I've been particularly spoilt, and I've probably only ridden two horses a day this week: yesterday it was Bilkie and Panto, and today it was Bilkie and Millyjean, and things don't come much more pleasureable than that. Especially when the weather's ok.

I can't reiterate enough how good it is to be able to benefit from Carol's expertise again. Glen Garioch is just one of the horses she has treated recently, and the little phase of misbehaviour he went through seems to be totally a thing of the past. Any sign of discontent a horse shows normally has a physical root, but finding it can be easier said that done.

With all this time on my hands (relatively speaking), I'm able to be less behind with the administration than normal, and to embark on another little project, which is to attempt to do something towards finding a solution to the ever-increasing problem of danger from motorists to horses and riders. We have near-misses every day. The thought came to me that the Racing Post is seemingly always keen to mount a crusade on behalf of stable staff in any area in which the paper believes that staff are suffering. Very often the suffering is solely in the journalists' minds, but what struck me was that - never mind Bill Adams, bosses, back protectors, overtime, travelling, hours, canteens etc - far and away the biggest enemy of stable staff is the motorist. And the paper never mentions this. So Emma contacted the editor, and the upshot is that I think that the paper is going to start highlighting this issue, which I hope may assist in the gargantuan task of persuading the Highways Authority that the current measures, such as they are, to prevent motorists from endangering the lives of horses and riders are totally inadequate. This really is a task, as I've found to my frustration on a previous occasion when I found myself banging my head against a brick wall in trying to get the ball rolling, and as Mark Tompkins, as the very good president of the Newmarket Trainer's Federation, has been finding for years. Mark is being very encourageing towards our efforts, William Gittus (C-I-C of the Heath in his role as Jockey Club Estates head honcho) less so. I would say that I'm trying to help William differentiate between what is relevant and/or important and what isn't; he would probably say that I'm annoying the shit out of him. We'll see what, if anything, happens.

And I'll have even more time to bang my head against this particular brick wall once I've finished Mark Johnston's book, which just gets better and better. I'm taking my time because I relish every word. Reports of his staff meetings are so just so funny. He apparently still tries to make his staff take things as seriously as he does, which of course is impossible. Only he still hasn't realised that. It must drive him mad. Take, for example, his thoughts on his staff conferences in which he feels everyone should be brainstorming to try to find ways of raising the stable's collective game still higher: "Too often at meetings, all the staff would do was complain about people not pulling their weight, or wages, or the standard of food in the cafe. I gave them a lecture and said, 'This is not what it's about. It's about winning races'.". This book is superb, and just full of gems like that. As I've had it pretty easy the past couple of weeks, and as I'm adopting the best winter strategy of making the evenings consist solely of bathtime, dinnertime and an bedtime (with the odd Northern Exposure repeat thrown in, because Emma has unearthed the DVD of the first series, which has made for some really special viewing of 'Fleischman!' and crazy gang) it has become the norm for me to wake quite a long time before the alarm is due to go off, so what I've been doing is getting up and reading a couple of chapters before going outside. In the absence of having a Mill Reef in the stable, that really is something to brighten the morning. And let's hope Panto can brighten things still further with a bold show at Kempton on Sunday.