Enjoying Joe's grass

Here's a nice story. When Joe McCarthy was here last summer, he observed that we should reseed the part of the field which the horses were then using when it became empty in the autumn. Typically, helpful advice was followed up with practical assistance, and he went to his local garden centre and bought a couple of sacks of grass seed. He took this to Haydock in the boot of his car to give to me when he and Iris went there at the end of September when Brief was running. Inevitably, the excitement of Brief's win meant that we all forgot about the seed, and he went home with it still in the boot. No matter, because we'd see each other again before too long, or so we thought. As regular readers of this site will know, Joe died in his sleep four days later but, proving that the good which men do live on after them, Iris loaded up my car with the seed after Joe's funeral, and a few days later I, feeling very emotional, scattered it around the by-now empty field. Since then, it has been a source of joy to us to observe just how well "Joe's grass" has been growing. A mild wet winter followed by a very warm spring has meant that we've now got a field full of the lushest grass you could imagine - and today we moved the horses across into it. As you can imagine, we now have, thanks to Joe's kindness, the happiest bunch of horses in town, as this pic of 'The Dawsons', Jack and Jill, will show. I've partitioned the field off with the electric fence, so the horses currently only have about a quarter of it so, although the herd will do its usual 'plague of locusts' impression in no time at all, I hope that they will be able to continue to receive the benefit of Joe's thoughtfulness for a few weeks yet.

Watching the horses enjoy the grass has been one of the pleasures of today, the latest in a long line of idyllic summer-like days, and another has been watching racing on At The Races. Easy first-up wins for the superb Dylan Thomas (Group One in France) and the mighty Yeats (Listed race in Ireland), plus a great race in HK in which Viva Pataca, Vengeance Of Rain and Admire Moon filled the trifecta, plus a Group One in which Delta Blues ran (unplaced) on his first start since thrilling us in the Melbourne Cup (pictured) - and we could watch it all in our own home. What a great TV channel. And what a way to warm up for Guineas/Kentucky Derby week. We've already started Guineas watch, as Emma will tell you in her blog, because she photographed both Sander Camillo and Drayton galloping on the Rowley Mile on Saturday morning. I'd seen Drayton the previous morning on the trotting rings on the Severals and on the walking ground on the Heath, and had been puzzled by the sight of an unfamiliar horse that I couldn't identify to any trainer. At that stage I didn't even know that Drayton was no longer trained by Tommy Stack, never mind that he was in Newmarket under the care of Mike de Kock and being aimed at the 2,000 Guineas, but when I found those facts out I soon put two and two together. The reason why I found out was because Adrian Beaumont of the IRB called me at lunchtime to ask if I would be able to provide a work-mate for the horse the next day. I would have been genuinely thrilled to oblige, but realistically there was no horse in the stable that I could volunteer, because nothing here would be nearly fast enough to do the job properly. Apparently Adrian was meeting with no offers of help from local trainers, which is a source of true shame to the trainers in this town en masse, and a mate was only found, so I'm told, once Tommy Stack's son persuaded Neville Callaghan to produce one. If one were a casting director for a film company and one cast Neville in the role of the good Samaritan, one would probably get the sack - but there you are, Nasty Nev comes to the rescue and redeems his "I'm alright Jack" colleagues. Shame on the rest of 'em! (Trainers who have no 90+ rated sprinter/milers in their stables excluded).

My feeling, incidentally, on the Guineas is that Teofilo will win if he's at his peak, and Adagio will win if he isn't. And that Miss Beatrix EW is the value in the 1,000 Guineas. I've already got one prognostication right this weekend: as Dempsey passed the post after his exhilarating win in the two-mile chase at Sandown yesterday, I said that I guessed he might have broken the track record. Nothing was said on tv, but I checked the time in today's Racing Post and see that he did, by about a second. The previous record, I was interested to see, was set by News King, owned by the late Newmarket identity Terry Foreman, in 1982. So that brings us back to Neville Callaghan, although I seem to recall that when News King, although he won plenty of hurdle races for Neville, was trained by Fred Winter while he was a steeplechaser. A lovely horse - how many track records stand for 25 years nowadays? There was good flat racing at Sandown yesterday, but Dempsey and Hot Weld were the stars. And thus endeth another wonderful National Hunt season. We usually manage the odd jumps winner, but we didn't have one during the season which ended yesterday. But I've enjoyed it enormously - so many thanks to all the terrific and brave horses who have lit it up, and to the many excellent jockeys who have helped them to do so.

I'm sure there would have been a few post-season parties around the country last night - and there'll surely be one in Malton when one of the hoops I most admire, Russ Garrity, hangs up his boots in a couple of weeks - but it was purely by coincidence that we were in party mode last night. Emma and I attended a surprise birthday party for Francis Graffard, a very nice Frenchman who is one of Sheikh Mohammed's racing managers. It was organised by Lisa-Jane Moeran, Francis' long-standing girlfriend, and was a huge success: Francis had no idea in advance, and was truly "gobsmacked" (as Leslie would have said) when he walked around the corner to see so many of his friends and relatives, some of whom had come from overseas for the occasion. It was a very happy night. It started at Diana Cooper's lovely farmhouse on Sheikh Mohammed's Moulton Paddocks estate and ended in Francis' and Lisa-Jane's house in Stamford Street, just around the corner from where I used to live in Warrington Street. Diana was very kind to host the gathering (Francis set off for the evening with Lisa-Jane in the belief that they were going there for a quiet dinner), and her excellent little terrier Patch coped with the invasion very cheerfully. The Moulton Paddocks estate is, of course, home to several very characterful dogs, but apparently Patch Cooper and the notorious Timmy O'Neill are not regular pals: they are both great dogs, but very different. We'd been at the party for quite some time when it dawned on us that nobody had seen Diana for half-an-hour or so. On that basis that she must have either gone to bed or to De Niro's, it was felt that evacuation was the correct course of action. We re-grouped chez Francis where we were treated to the 'all our yesterdays' of the generation who began listening to music in France circa 1980. This was really good, and not being able to understand the words didn't hugely diminish one's enjoyment of the songs. In a truly mighty night, Roger Varian won man of the match and the only casualty was a very nice Ukranian called Andrew (that can't be his real name, surely, but that's what he answers to) who works in Coolmore's publicity machine, Primus, in Fethard. No doubt exhausted by having sold 76 Holy Roman Emperor nominations in the past week, Andrew measured his considerable length on Francis' living room floor as he made an unforgettable entrance, but happily he recovered quicky and was able to provide the bulk of the opposition to Roger in the battle for the title of 'King of the Dancefloor'.

Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

It is with great pleasure that I can recount how I starred in the remake of the 'Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory' on Tuesday. Or perhaps I should say 'Willie Wonka and the Winner Factory', because the chocolate factory to which I refer was Pond House, Nicholashayne, Somerset. My golden ticket came about because of Emma embarking on a feature for Horse & Hound which will focus on Tom Scudamore's appointment as stable jockey for David Pipe; eight years ago she wrote a similar feature about the pair mirroring in the point-to-point field their fathers' former all-conquering National Hunt partnership, so now that David is at the helm of the stable and Tom is the stable jockey, it is a case of double deja vu. Hence the feature. And hence my request to Emma to see if I could be smuggled along on her visit, because doing some industrial espionage in the best stable in the country would be just about my idea of heaven. Happily, when Emma asked David if I could come along he said that I'd be welcome - and how correct that statement proved to be! Much as I was looking forward to the visit, not in my wildest dreams could I have predicted what a special occasion it would be. And for that I have three people to thank: Martin, Carol and David Pipe, all of whom gave us a most overwhelming welcome. Martin and Carol didn't know we were coming, but they ended up arranging their whole morning around us!

One of the highlights, obviously, was seeing a string of horses exercise on the gallop. This was so impressive. The horses, who without exception looked superb, are unbelievably content, as was demonstrated by their conduct at exercise. As they filed through the gateway into the field and onto the gallop, the tractor was still on the gallop higher up, so all the horses just walked onto it and stood patiently in line waiting to be given the office to start work. There were probably about 16 horses in the string, and not one of them fidgetted or jibbed at all; it had to be seen to believed. And it wasn't just a string of older horses, because there was a good cross-section of the stable from experienced good horses (Abragante and Tamarin Blu came up together, as did lovely old Puntal and It Takes Time) to unraced bumper horses (eg Cricket Boy, who is Lady Cricket's first foal, by Alflora). The horses exercised in well-matched pairs, doing strong but unpressured work, and everything ran just so calmly and smoothly. Part of the key to this has to be the outstanding staff, as there is a great team of riders. Tom Scudamore and Timmy Murphy both evidently ride out frequently, and the array of regular riders is superb: three of them (Rodi Greene, Gerry Supple and Andrew Glassonbury) rode at Towcester that evening, while other race-riders include Tom Malone and Johnny Farrelly. The excellent ex-jockeys Jonathan Lower and Ned Buckley are both key members of the team, and all these, plus numerous other very good people such as my fellow Hawickman Craig Wylie mean that the stable is outstandingly staffed. And going there one can see why: there is such a good atmosphere there, of friendliness and efficiency which starts at the top and runs all the way through, that you can understand good people settling there.

We were shown everything: the feed room, the tack room, the laboratory, the office, some of the horses (eg lovely little Gaspara, right, who is about the same size as Lady Suffragette only slighter, and dear old Well Chief, he of the lovely kind face and friendly nature) and even followed in the footsteps of an astonishing array of visitors (from AP McCoy to Sir Clement Freud, via Andy Caddick, Sir Mark Prescott and Emlyn Hughes) by using the equiciser! And ate and drank in front of the famous bank of TV screens where Martin has kept abreast of the racing world and spotted potential stars in French claimers. We were introduced to everyone as we went around, and Martin was just so full of enthusiasm to show us, explain and discuss anything and everything. I've been very privileged to have visited some of the best stables in the world, but the treat I had on Tuesday knocks all other tours into a cocked hat. I could eulogise about the every aspect of the visit for another 10,000 words, but I think you've got the idea. We know that Martin Pipe has been the best trainer operating in Britain over the past thirty years and that the operation has passed seamlessly into David's safe hands; a visit to the stable lives up to expectations because one finds that it is instantly obvious that it is a place where things are done well, and comes with the added, but not suprising, bonus of confirming that Martin, Carol and David Pipe are as decent, generous and welcoming as they are successful.

The perfect way to round off this excellent day was with a trip to Towcester on the way home, and the icing on the cake was that the ever-reliable Lady Suffragette (pictured, with Tom Greenway up) ran another cracking race to finish second in the mares' novice hurdle. There is a real pattern to her jumping career so far: second to a 1/5 shot at Plumpton, third to a 2/11 shot at Towcester, and now second to a 2/11 shot at Towcester. She started the 14/1 second favourite, which is an unusual thing in an 11-runner set-weights race: you could maybe understand it in an 80-runner handicap. Between the third last and second last hurdles she actually looked like giving the favourite a race, but she had been shaken off by the time they jumped the second last, and the effort on such a stiff track meant that she finished a tired, but fortunately undamaged, horse. I feel that I ought to point out that, in my opinion, I haven't been stupid in finding a series of races which she can't win, but have done well to find a series of races she can be placed in: the horses who have beaten her have been such short prices not because they are champions, but because they are running in races with no depth at all. So all I need to do now is to find a race with no depth and no hot favourite (or one in which Lady Suffragette is the hot favourite!). I'll keep trying - and so will she, because she is a really honest little horse. May 22nd might be the next date in her diary. There are, funnily enough, two appealing races that day for her: a 45-50 two-miler on the flat at Lingfield (grass) and a conditional jockeys' mares' 0-95 two-mile handicap hurdle at Towcester. The latter sounds perfect, but the fly in the ointment might be 11 stone 12 lb, which wouldn't be ideal. It's bound to be a very weak race, but how she'd go round there with a stone and a half more than she's been carrying is a worry. Still, I've got plenty of time to mull it over.

Sadly, the day ended with a whimper rather than the hoped-for roar. As I told Jim McGrath on At The Races, we ran our entire National Hunt string at Towcester (although this isn't strictly true with Desiree threatening to come out of retirement, but one can't really count her as she can hardly be classified as a professional racehorse on the basis of the life of reilly which she has been pretending not to enjoy for yonks), because Mattie lined up for the bumper. He did everthing right before and after the race, but unfortunately during it he ran too slowly. It was a rough race and he got jostled a lot, which probably contributed to him losing most of his momentum and co-ordination in the final half-mile, but basically, although his homework looked to have improved for his debut and although he looked fitter, he seems to have outgrown his strength for the time being, and a nice spell over the summer while we wait for him to get a bit older is the obvious next step. I'm pleased to report that, while we failed to win the bumper, David Pipe succeded in doing so, his Kayf Tara (from an Ardross mare - lovely) David Johnston-owned debutant The Package winning in the style of a potentially top-class horse. He's a really nice horse who looked very special before the race as well as in it, and I'll be keeping a close eye on his future career. I remember Kayf Tara best for twice being too good for Largesse (in the Prix Kergorlay and the Yorkshire Cup), but I'm sure that the Pipes remember him best for nosing out Far Cry in a tremendous finish for the Ascot Gold Cup, so if he can now sire a really good horse for the stable that would be poetic justice. Thus ends the tale of a really special day.

Since then? Well, not a huge amount to report. We've probably had our second millimetre of rain for the month (well, almost) which one wouldn't have noticed if one had blinked. The Polish Precedent filly has settled back into the routine really well, having gone very sweetly at exercise yesterday with Hugh and today with David. Anis Etoile had her first canter this morning up Warren Hill under Martha, given an excellent lead by Cliff on Millyjean, so they are all taking little steps forward. Another good sight to see was Shane Kelly riding out for Paul Howling this morning. Inevitably, just about the first person we saw riding on the Heath on Saturday morning after Friday's verdicts from the HRA was Phil McEntee, with a broad grin on his face. (He seems to be having just as many runners since losing his license as he was while he still had it, but racing jurisdiction, as Robbie Fitzpatrick is proving, works in mysterious ways). Of those side-lined, Shane Kelly is the one for whom I do feel sorry because, if I'm any judge of character, he is an honest and decent guy who could only have got himself into trouble through naivety, stupidity and gullibility. Still, if he's done wrong, he's done wrong, and I'm sure he'll demonstrate his merit by taking his punishment on the chin. And it was so good today to see that he's going to keep his head on his shoulders and keep himself busy - so when he does return to action, I'll certainly be wishing him every success.

Ups and downs of life and death

"Brief Goodbye, who had gone well fresh in the past, would have delighted connections with his staying-on effort". So says today's Racing Post about Brief's first-up effort at Newbury yesterday, when he finished sixth of fourteen in a very competitive ten furlong handicap. And how right is that comment: we were thrilled! As you will understand, yesterday was a special day, and it turned out to be a very good one. You may have noticed that Brief had a different jockey, because Mickey Fenton understandably felt obliged to go to Nottingham to ride six horses, including one for his Classic winner-supplying patron Pam Sly, rather than go to Newbury to ride only Brief. The excellent Ted Durcan stood in, and as expected rode very nicely. Mickey and Ted are birds of a feather as regards professionalism and helpfulness, so unsurprisingly Mickey had briefed Ted in advance about Brief's preferred way of racing; plus Ted remembered watching the horse win at Haydock last autumn (and I think rode him once, at Ayr, two or three years ago). All I had to do was reiterate that Brief just likes to be left alone to mooch along at the back of the field, and then prefers to make his run in plenty of open space down the middle of the track; obviously there will always be occasions when the tempo of the race will make these tactics the wrong ones, but they are the ones Brief prefers, so there is no point in trying to ride him upside down whatever happens. Brief ran so well in a race in which the leaders got a very easy time of it in front, so his style of racing was hugely disadvantaged. Even so, he came from last place with a great run, which understandably flattened out in the final furlong after he'd worked into fourth position at the furlong pole. Ted was full of enthusiasm and admiration for the horse, and Brief's impressively large fan club on course all went away, as so often previously, just ever so proud of the dear horse.

We also came away having seen a swag of special horses, which one would expect on Greenham Day. The superb Sergeant Cecil, the ultimate Mr Ordinary made good, looks set for another great year after what I'd say was an excellent resumption in the John Porter. The quirky but charismatic Maraahel kept us on our toes again in this race, doing what one would least expect by making all the running to win bravely, just holding off the persistent challenge of his former stable-mate Mighty, who had been sold out of the stable for 8,000 gns last autumn. Had the photo gone the other way, that wouldn't have been a good result for Sir Michael! As it was, he enjoyed yet another successful afternoon, as he completed a double when Red Gala, who will probably turn out to be better than this grade, won our race, beating another potential improver, the massive Luca Cumani-trained five-year-old maiden Samurai Way (a Darshaan half-brother to Catcher In The Rye's dam - and, like Ardross, he has Irish 1,000 Guineas winner Arctique Royale as his second dam). Defeats for Indian Ink and Dutch Art were obviously the big talking points, but I wouldn't write off Indian Ink as a potential Guineas winner - she's a lovely filly, very genuine and talented. It will be very interesting to see what the future holds for the strangely-named filly who beat her (Majestic Roi) in what seemed an excellent performance; ditto for Dutch Art's decisive conqueror Major Cadeaux, who has to run well in the 2,000 Guineas, even if Adagio looks an obvious winner of that race (assuming that Teofilo really does have something amiss, which seems likely). It was just a really good afternoon watching all these lovely horses while waiting for Brief's race (and while keeping an eye on Colin's sobriety), as well as seeing two masterful front-running winning rides by Richard Hughes. The only downer of the day was bumping into Bob Grace, a very nice man who works for Barry Hills and who would rarely miss a meeting at Newbury, and hearing that he had been widowed since I last saw him. His wife, whom I'd met with him at Newbury on previous occasions, didn't work in racing but had her own horse, and this in a freak accident kicked her in the chest last summer as she was loading him into a trailer, killing her instantly by a blow to the heart. Bob, who follows cricket as closely as he follows racing (which really is saying something) was at the Test match at the Oval at the time. Just so very, very sad.

Reverting to happier matters, Friday had been another very pleasant day, and another on which we managed to give Colin an airing. I took him up to Kerry's farm, where he enjoyed a strong cup of tea on a beautiful Norfolk early summer afternoon. Earlier in the day I'd been to Chippenham Lodge Stud to pick up the Polish Precedent yearling filly. I'd only ever been past the property previously, so was really struck by what a paradise it is. The filly has made incredible progress over the winter, getting bigger and a lot stronger, and she really does seem a very exciting prospect now. I saw her dam, who is a lovely mare and due shortly to foal, but the real thrill was seeing a paddock which contained two mares with very young foals. The usual routine on seeing such a sight is that one asks who are the mares are, and then hears two names one's never heard before. In this instance, I was half-expecting to find they were names I was familiar with, but even so I was unprepared for John Steele, the stud groom, to point to the nearest one and say "That's Wannabe Grand and her Pivotal colt who was born last weekend". I so wish I'd had my camera in my pocket! It was such a thrill, just finding myself completely unexpectedly looking at perhaps the best filly Danehill ever sired in the northern hemisphere. The last time I'd seen her was when she ran in Stravinsky's July Cup, and I remember standing with John McNamara down by the bottom end of the parade ring after the race and watching her led away, admiring the disproportionately powerful muscles in her hindquarters. It was a real treat to see her again. Can we unearth one like that? Well, the great thing is that one can't say with certainty that we can't.

Or a Karasi would do! Like the Lemon, I really enjoyed Paul Haigh's tribute to his fantastic achievement in Friday's Racing Post. Was Paul prompted by the praise given to the feat on this blog? I don't know. Certainly it is rare for a British journalist to pay attention to what's going on overseas, never mind actually to appreciate the merit therein, but Paul and Nick Godfrey are two of the few who do. Paul might even have read my 'Karasi, Karasi, Karasi' grey panel on thoroughbredinternet.com. (Or my report in Winning Post, which actually is very unlikely).

I'll just finish by boring you with a little tale to illustrate the trials of owning and training horses. Belle Annie, you will have gathered from this site, is an unraced three-year-old daughter of the good American stallion Aptitude (sire of Kentucky Derby hopeful Great Hunter). She's done some good work this spring, which has been pleasantly surprising as she still looks too immature to be up to much. Because of her patent immaturity, I hadn't put her under any pressure, just letting her do a conservative amount of cantering and the occasional unpressured gallop. Unfortunately she seemed a little stiff behind after a gallop a couple of Saturdays ago, and when she went for a trot at the start of the following week this was more noticeable. Carol checked her over and found no pulled muscles, so probing my way in the dark I gave her a few easy days and then let her resume walking, and then trotting. The stiffness returned so, having had a blood test taken which showed her muscle enzymes to be normal (ie she wasn't tying up), I decided that the problem wasn't soft tissue-based, so that a period of rest was advisable. David Dugdale, our vet, confirmed this when summoned for one of his rare visits to the stable, suggesting that, with the evidence pointing towards the start of a bone weakness somewhere at the top of a hind leg or around her pelvic area, a month's inactivity followed by a gradual return to work should see the potential problem eradicated. (I say 'potential problem' because at this early stage of a stress fracture the horse is only lame for very short periods after exercise, so David was actually making the diagnosis on a sound horse). This is, of course, bloody frustrating, but from my point of view it was an easy decision: this was the only logical and sensible course of action. Fortunately the filly is owned by Dave and Carolyn Huelin (well, it actually wouldn't really have mattered who amongst our patrons owned her, because I am very lucky by and large to train only for supportive and understanding owners who appreciate that trying to cut corners with training schedules is usually a false economy, and that horses are fragile flesh and blood who have to be treated gently and patiently) who are thoroughly experienced horse people, very familiar with the highs and lows which horses can give us, and who appreciate that there's no point in trying to swim against the tide. So the filly's having a rest, which is disappointing because it now means that she can't realistically be expected to make her debut until at least August, but that's that. You can understand our frustration and agonising over what to do - but how would you like to be in Jim Bolger's shoes? The reports we've had about Teofilo paint a pretty similar position to this. For us, we've merely got to wait a few months longer, but there's always another maiden race for an unraced horse. But for Bolger, there's only one 2,000 Guineas and only one Triple Crown, and Teofiloes only come along once in a lifetime. If we err on the side of caution, we've just made things take longer than they ought, which is irritating but no worse than that, and certainly better than being insufficiently cautious, which could be catastrophic. But if Jim Bolger errs on the side of caution, he loses the only chance he'll ever have to win the Triple Crown; while if he underestimates the severity of Teofilo's setback he could have another Barbaro on his hands. Would you like to be his his shoes? Call me unambitious if you like, but just now I wouldn't swap places with him for all the tea in china. And to make matters worse, he can't just focus on quietly just trying to get the decision right, because he's got the world's press on his back, you can be sure all trying to second-guess him and then tell him, and everyone else, what he's doing wrong. If one's conscientious, there's pressure enough in trying to get the decisions right for obscure horses in private, but when it's the best horse in Europe, it must be a nightmare when things start going wrong. And one should never underestimate just how badly things can go wrong: one of our neighbours, a very patient and sympathetic trainer, lost three horses last week, which must be about 10% of his string, two of which sustained fatal fractures while working and one of which, a beautiful unraced two-year-old filly, died of pleurisy which just came on out of the blue. This can be a very, very hard game. As I believe I've quoted Sir Mark Prescott in a previous chapter, a happy trainer is a bad trainer.

30,000 lb of lemons

I'm delighted with the feedback on these blogs nowadays. The Lemon is doing very well. I'm tempted to think that the Lemon is Joff from the gratuitous reference to Francesca Cumani, but I suspect that that isn't the case. I'd forgotten about the Bathwick Tyres Lady Riders' Derby at Bath (where else?) but I had had in my mind the Beaumont Insurance Lady Riders' Derby at Ripon which used to be run on Derby Day when Derby Day was a Wednesday - or THE Wednesday - and I'd been thinking that I ought to specify that that race was obviously excluded from the list of Derbys (Derbies?) won by female hoops - but then I remembered that one shouldn't ever use the word obviously, because if something is obvious, there's no need to say it, so I didn't say it. So we're onto the Ladies' Derbys (Derbies?) now, and I think that's side-tracking us. Anyway, we've got Macau, Pennsylvania and Perak. Any more? And, if so, by whom?

And the Dingle Derby doesn't count either.

I recall Officer being hailed as a future Derby winner (Kentucky). That was until Johannesburg ripped him apart in the Breeders' Cup Juvenile, and I can't recall him doing much thereafter. But, even after that thrashing and demoralization, and even after the several years he's been out of training, I bet he could beat the Officer who ran at Nottingham today. JD Smith riding for Sir Michael Stoute was eye-catching, but we should have taken the tip: the horse had to be a real lemon for JD to be allowed on board on the track, and so it proved. Today looked like his first gallop, and it could well prove to have been his last. Poor JD - it must be so demoralizing only being allowed to ride horses if they have no aptitiude for racing whatsoever. Still, it's not impossible Officer could eventually win a race, but I bet poor JD won't be in the saddle if that happens.

A more heartening sight today was Nigel Walker and Isobel Monk appearing in the yard, visiting Dave Morris. Isobel is, of course, forever immortal in this yard, as the photograph of her leading Diamond Joshua into the Cheltenham Festival unsaddling enclosure on Gold Cup Day 2002 rightly takes pride of place. She and Nigel have relocated to Sussex, she working for Amanda Perrett and Nigel for Lawrence Wells. Isabel has had a rough time of it over the past year or two with illness, but she seems very well now and had had a good report from the doctor today which is great. It was very good to see them, hear how life is going for them in that lovely part of the world - and to make a mental note to be prepared for a few winners (probably well backed at good odds) coming out of the Wells stable.

Less happy news was the inevitable Friday the thirteenth casualty, who was Debra England, apprenticed to our neighbour Willie Musson. She had a fall on the dreaded day, courtesy of a horse rearing over while refusing to be put through the stalls on the Heath, and I think has a broken arm and leg. She's had a good winter with a few rides and two or three winners, so this bad accident couldn't have come at a worse time - not that any time would be good. I hope her recovery goes smoothly and quickly.

As has been noted on Emma's blog, Brief resumes on Saturday, which is "something to look forward to". It is bound to be a very emotional day, as our thoughts will be with Joe and also with Leslie Harrison, mentor of Brief's dad Slip Anchor and who liked to keep a friendly eye out for Brief. Tomorrow there is a memorial service for Leslie in the church in Fordham, and there won't be a dry eye in - or near, because the church will overflow - the house.

And lastly, on a happier note, I'm pleased to report that Emma has put a few photos on previous blogs. These are definitely worth scrolling down to see. You'll pass a photo of Stan and Alice taking Colin for a walk at Towcester on Easter Day, and eventually reach two pictures of BRYCHAN (spelling right this time) on Brief Goodbye. However many times I see these, they still bring a smile to my face.

Aintree et al.

This blog is becoming very good in parts. The main chapters are ... um ... excellent (of course). The accompanying photographs are superb, but their attendance is abysmal, because, good though they are, they aren't here. As explained previously, the picture editor has been devoting all her attentions to the organization of the Brahma Beer Cat Grand National, but that's now over now, so perhaps ... . Some of the feedback is really good. Problemwalrus remains incisive and insightful as ever, including filling in my memory lapse over Royal Atalza and giving us on-the-spot reaction to Aintree's new edifice. And the Lemon is superb: Pennsylvania Derby, that's great, exactly the sort of response I was looking for. Other contributors have been less specific: it's no good telling us that Linda Jones might have ridden a Derby winner. We can work that out for ourselves; we need details, a definite yes or no. For example: Kim Clapperton - 1992 Perak Derby - Ultraman II. That's the sort of stuff we're looking for.

As regards racing facts and figures, the mighty Karasi gave us plenty to be getting on with yesterday. Oldest horse ever to win a race in Japan etc. Yes, that's the same Karasi whom Walter Swinburn rode this week nine years ago, running unplaced in the Wood Ditton. How many other horses who ran at that meeting are still showing world-class form nine years later? It's a terrible thing to say, but one has to admit that three Nakayama Grand Jumps in a row is so sensational that it should have knocked the Grand National off the front page of the Racing Post today. But, of course, it didn't. So I'll make up for that lapse by calling for three cheers for Karasi - and his connections - here.

The Nakayama Grand Jump was the one notable absence from what was a pretty hectic racing schedule yesterday. ATR overnight gave us the first six races from Randwick, so we had two of the four Group Ones, which wasn't perfect but was still really good. Then we had hours and hours of the BBC in the afternoon, most of the Grand National coverage on which was excellent; we could, of course, done without such features as the Scouse poet and the celebrity interviews, but in the era of dumbing down one has to say that the coverage remains at least as good as one could expect. And we also had, sort of, the other Grand National, a report of which is contained in Emma's blog. And if you don't believe it took place, all you've got to do is use your imagination and, lo and behold, there it is. The only shame, of course, is that none of this great racing involved us (feline GN excepted), but, perhaps, one day ... .

The nearest we got to the thrills and spills of Aintree, sadly, came via a rather unpleasant incident in the stable in the morning. Our very welcome Saturday riders Andrew and Philip came down from London for the morning, and for second lot I genuinely believed that I was sending Andrew out for a straightforward and pleasant amble around the Heath on a youngster who shall remain nameless. She'd been so good recently that when Andrew told me that she had been very fiery while being tacked up, I didn't take this as seriously as I should have done. So what ensued was - well, it was actually one of two things. Here are two scenarios. Either Andrew got on this very quiet horse who strolled down the yard and he just fell off. Or I legged him up onto her, she walked down very tensely while I was leading her, and then once I'd let go she took off bucking wildly - except that he sat tight for buck after buck, until it became plain that she really was going to keep bucking until he was off, and so he eventually came off with a horrible fall onto the tarmac - but, in a most impressive feat of courage and resilience, bounced straight back up and declared himself fit to be legged back aboard. Anyway, one of these two things happened and, rather like in a book such as 'Atonement' or 'The Life Of Pi', I'll leave it to the reader to work out what really did take place. (Clue - one of these things happened, while the second version is what Philip told me that I should put on the blog instead of the real course of events). So that was rather distressing. I hate it when someone has a fall, because I always feel I've let the rider down if I put him on something that isn't safe (admittedly I never used to feel this way in the Squeak era, because his falls were so frequent that one just got used to them; and his falling off usually didn't actually mean that the horse wasn't safe). Fortunately Andrew seemed physically and mentally unaffected by the fall, which only goes to show he's a lot tougher and braver than I am. That drama aside, it was a fairly unremarkable morning, typical of the current conditions by being foggy early and warm and sunny from mid-morning onwards, and it contained another reminder that if Brief Goodbye doesn't run well next Saturday, it will be hard to be optimistic about the immediate future.

We had By Storm run in the week, as mentioned previously. Her run wasn't particularly good, but it wasn't particularly bad either. She is what she is - a very small horse who has won a selling handicap off a light weight - but she's sound and genuine, and I wouldn't give up hope of her doubling her winning tally at some point. Friday wasn't her day, but she'll have other chances. Possibly the highlight of the trip was, apart from the nice weather and how uninterrupted by traffic the journey was, enjoying the final parts of the audio version of 'The Rum Diaries' by Hunter S. Thompson. I'd picked this four-tape saga up in the Heart Foundation shop a few weeks ago, and it has given us several hours of car-bound pleasure. The abridged book was very well read by an American I'd never heard of, and it made for excellent entertainment. Another recent Heart Foundation shop acquisition has been a John le Carre - it had been three or four years since I last read one, which was probably 'The Little Drummer Girl', and I felt it was time for another - so I'm now engrossed in 'A Perfect Spy', which will keep me quiet for a while. Having just whizzed through two excellent John Francome novels, this will slow me up somewhat.

Storming away

Great excitement. We have our first runner of the new season (ie the season proper, as one would say, which began on Lincoln Day - I don't really know if it's correct to call it the turf season as for large parts of it the turf races seems to be in a minority - perhaps we could call it the sand 'n' turf season) tomorrow, when By Storm steps out at Folkestone. That's bad planning really, having a runner during the Grand National week, but we'll still be able to be by the television this afternoon and on Saturday afternoon (the most important). The other bad piece of planning (in my defence, she should have run at Warwick on Monday, but she was eliminated) is being the other side of London on a Friday afternoon, as getting home can take a while, although very often this is worse in the anticipation than the event. No doubt Probemwalrus will be pleased to know that we should be home by 9pm, when Ray LaMontagne appears in concert on BBC4, although I have to admit that I'd be lying if I said that I was planning to watch the entire show. Whether I'll want to watch a replay of By Storm's race in the evening will depend on how she runs, and I can't be too certain how she will go: she seems in good form, but she may not be good enough outside selling class, even with a light weight. Tomorrow should be informative.

She will, of course, be our first runner of the new season, but our second of the week, courtesy of Lady Suffragette having run over jumps on Sunday. That was a lovely day. She still showed her inexperience through the race, but ran well to finish third despite doing a few things wrong, so that's very pleasing. I was so proud of her, and a photograph of her on the news page (I've put up a piece pointing out that there are shares available in her in case anyone fancies the idea of being involved in a genuine and durable horse who should be able to continue to run regularly and creditably - touch wood - on the flat and over jumps) should make it clear why I've been saying for a while that she is in great condition. Her genuineness matches her appearance, and she's just a joy. Tom Greenway again rode her extremely well, and he must take a fair bit of credit for the fact that she is developing into a very satisfactory hurdler. It was a lovely outing all round, taking a nice horse to a nice place in nice weather, and seeing nice people there - including Colin Casey (pictured with travelling head dogs), our ageless 'racing manager' whom we took with us. (That sentence alone would be enough to make one fail an English O-level). One notable aspect of the day was that were two interesting jockey bookings in the bumper, which took place after we'd left. Vince Slattery, possibly Britain's most popular hoop, had his first ride since being badly injured in a fall (riding homework rather than in a race) in the middle of last year, and Pat "Shorty" Leech stunned me by having his name in the racecard. I noticed his birthday in the paper a couple of weeks ago, and I think he's 44. Older readers (I say venerably) may remember him as a leading up-and-coming jumps hoop in Ireland in the early to mid '80s, and may remember him disappearing of the face of the earth soon after that. And there he was! He rode a horse for Phil McEntee in the bumper. It seems he'd ridden her in her previous bumper in December (when she was trained by Jeff Pearce) but I'm told his most recent ride prior to that was ten years ago; but I'd venture to suggest it would be longer ago than that. He's been in Newmarket for a few years now, being employed for spells by various Hamilton Road trainers (the late David Cosgrove, Geoff Huffer, Conrad Allen etc) and I recall him riding out regularly the Terry Ramsden-owned grey horse which Geoff ran in the Grand National three or four years ago whose name I can't remember. But race-riding: that's remarkable. How many jumps hoops go over ten years between rides? Neither horse was placed, but Vince's mount is perhaps worth noting for sentimental reasons, despite finishing last on her belated debut: a six-year-old trained by David Bridgewater for his mother Mary, she's by Commanche Run from Winnie The Witch, who was trained by David's late father Ken and ridden to victory in the County Hurdle by David. It would be nice to see her do well.

If our trip to Towcester was the highlight of Sunday, the highlight of Tuesday was our pedigree club meeting at which Will Edmeades was the guest. The gatherings which Leslie Harrison used to host for us every week are now less frequent, but they are still continuing, Ruth is still making us very welcome in Leslie's studio, and they have taken on an extra dimension of specialness. Will was one of Leslie's closest friends, and on Tuesday evening he was kind enough to come to talk to us and to stimulate discussion, using the pedigrees of the Barnett family mares, which he manages, as the catalyst. This was a great trip down memory lane as we touched upon some wonderful horses, briefly running through the family's horses earlier in the 20th century before having a detailed look from High Line (a cracking stayer of the early '70s, trained by the late Derrick Candy, whose grand-daughter Emma is one of our number) to the present day, and including such greats as Time Charter, Master Willie, Nicholas Bill, Quay Line and Pure Grain. It was a thoroughly pleasant evening. Will is quite a quiet, unassuming man, and I'm sure that chairing a meeting wouldn't be his idea of the perfect evening, but he couldn't have done a better job of it, and his kindness was much appreciated. This was the second such gathering since Leslie's death, the first having been compered by Luca Cumani, who gave us a great insight into his views on bloodstock and related topics. That turned out to be quite a late night (ie post 10pm), because Luca was on fire, and we all just lost track of time. One interesting point Luca made was that, having sold Alexandrova's dam Shouk the year before Alexandrova was conceived, this wasn't the case of the one which got away: he said that he and Sara would never have stumped up the quarter million or whatever it is to send Shouk to Sadler's Wells, so Alexandrova would just never have existed, but as it is they now own several sisters to the dam of a triple Oaks winner, which wouldn't have happened if they hadn't sold Shouk.

On that subject, incidentally, best wishes to Sara who is currently nursing two cracked vertebrae after a fall off a very troublesome colt at the bottom of Warren Hill on Monday morning. We saw the ambulance there, and it was sad to hear subsequently that Sara was the victim. It sounds as if she is already on the road to recovery, but she's obviousy going to be in a lot of discomfort for a few weeks. As is Tony Culhane, following his horrible fall at Wolverhampton last week in a weird race: it was a three-year-old seller in which three of the four declared runners were trained by Mickey Quinn. As it was, one of Mickey's horses was scratched (one might have guessed that in advance with his large apprentice Chris Cavanagh down to ride it at the unfeasibly light weight of eight stone), leaving two of his opposed by one of David Chapman's. And that didn't get round, giving Tony Culhane a horrible fall and leaving all the finishers to come from the same stable, which doesn't happen in too many flat races. I read that Dale Gibson booked into a hotel in Wolverhampton that night so that he could be there to take Tony home from the hospital the next day, which was typically decent of him, so good on 'im, and best wishes to Tony too, a very likeable jockey as well as a very good one, who now faces a long spell on the sidelines with (I think) some fractured vertebrae too. A happier sight this week was Kieren Fallon riding out for Michael Stoute. Like Tony Culhane a very likeable jockey as well as a controversial one, Kieren looked fit and well and it was good to see him keeping himself busy during his time out for bad behaviour. The devil finds work for idle hands, so one's got to keep doing something - or else start one's own blog.

I must apologise for the lack of photographs on my most recent blogs. Unfortunately the picture editor is currently focussing all her attention on organising the Brahma Beer Cat Grand National so, while she has been very on the ball with putting the pictures up on her site in advance of the Exeter Road feline spectacular, this section has been left pictureless. We've got a few to illustrate each of the past three chapters, so let's hope we can see some soon. In the meantime, we'll just continue our promising maiden watch, and conclude that maidens don't come much classier than the Coolmore Spartacus (3yo) Maiden (8.7 furlongs) at Cork on Monday. In this, Chariots Of Fire, trained by David Wachman for Michael Tabor, beat Sorolla, trained by Aidan O'Brien for Wachman's mother-in-law Mrs John Magnier, by a short-head, with five lengths back to the Kevin Prendergast-trained third. Chariots Of Fire is a Galileo half-brother to Damson, Sorolla a Danehill half-brother to Orpen. So that's a good result for the sponsors, who have had Choisir (with two winners, including in the Coolmore Choisir Maiden Stakes at Cork) and Catcher In The Rye (today) get off the mark in the past week. But best result of the week has to be the success of Ka Lam Fortune in the Macau Derby on Sunday, on whom the excellent Lisa Jones deservedly added her name to the select list of female jockeys to have tasted Derby success worldwide. (Have there been any others? I'm sure there must have been somewhere, but can't think when and where - so if you can, please post up a reply at the bottom, and we'll see what we can come up with).

Touch of class

I'm settling down for the usual Saturday afternoon in front of the television. Today's racing isn't great - nothing like last Saturday's sport from Nad Al Sheba or next Saturday's Grand National fiesta - but a quick look at the runners at Leopardstown shows that spring has arrived, as there is a definite touch of class to the card. The first race is an eight-runner three-year-old fillies' maiden. It contains three Sadlers' Wellses and one Danehill (plus a Pivotal ...). Aidan O'Brien's pair are a full-sister (Sadler's Wells ex Jude) to Quarter Moon and Yesterday, and a half-sister (Unbridled's Song ex Helsinki) to Shamardal. John Oxx runs Dance The Classics, a filly by Sadler's Wells from Head In The Clouds, a Group Three-winning full-sister to Millenary ...

The second race is the 1,000 Guineas Trial, in which Aidan O'Brien runs two: Theann (Rock Of Gibraltar ex King's Stand Stakes winner Cassandra Go) and Rock Of Gibraltar's full-sister Nell Gwyn (Danehill ex Offshore Boom). Leaving aside the minor quibble that one could say about the latter that the 1,000 Guineas trial which is run at the Craven Meeting should be the race in which she should be resuming ("the race has got her name written all over it ..."), when horses with these pedigrees start appearing in droves, the best action is upon us.

And so we should start to crank things up here. Well, I'm pleased to report that this morning felt, in an extremely small way, as if that is what's happening. We had a touch of class in our string too this morning, courtesy of having Chris Dwyer in our midst again. He'd been here last Saturday at the end of the morning, but today the lot which he joined pulled out just after nine, so the Heath was busy - and it was great to see a reminder of just what a popular guy he is. Cheery greetings galore came from every string we passed - even the laconic Ed Dunlop hailed him heartily - as people saluted a much liked respected face which isn't seen on the Heath so regularly these days. When we came to the gallop (Al Bahathri), it was Brief Goodbye's turn to provide the touch of class, as he carried me effortless ahead of his workmates. Compared to the residents of Ballydoyle mentioned above and to many of their two or three hundred stablemates, Brief is a very ordinary horse; but to us he's a superstar, clearly the best horse in the stable (and that's not to belittle Jack Dawson's past achievements, but Jack just isn't as young as he used to be), and today he provided a timely reminder of that. I only ride him rarely, but today's ride was a joy. Only two days ago the thought worked its way to the surface of my brain that Brief must be getting nearly ready for a run so I pulled out the programme book and found my eye drawn to the fixture at Newbury on 21st April (two weeks today). Today's work, therefore, was a very welcome affirmation that he should be able to do himself justice then. Earlier in the morning, By Storm had galloped under Martha who declared herself very pleased with her mount, so let's hope things are indeed progressing as they should with at least some of our charges - so that one or more of these younger unraced or lightly-raced horses can soon be providing Brief with some competition for his stable star's mantle.

Brwckyn's Brief visit

"Unseasonably warm" weather is forecast for Easter weekend, and it's certainly very pleasant today (Good Friday). I haven't been tempted to remove my sweater, though, so I wouldn't go overboard about the heatwave, but it's nice to have warm, sunny days. The mornings during the week were very frosty, but glorious as the sun got up, which made for perfect filming conditions - as we found out, courtesy of a crew from BBC Wales who were here yesterday. The star of the show was Bryckwn (I can pronouce the name - "Brook'n" - but I'm not sure that I can spell it) who must rate right up there on the list of brahmameisters.

Gemma has produced Brwckyn, who has been at the Racing School as part of a project for BBC Wales. He's training to be an amateur rider, and the quest is being filmed. He's been riding out for Evan Williams at home, has ridden in six point-to-points (completing the course every time), and now is to ride in a proper race. He was therefore on the obligatory amateur riders' course this week, and had an extra-curricular taste of Newmarket Heath one morning, courtesy of Brief Goodbye. I'd say the week has gone very well for him and his crew (cameraman Hew, who is Welsh but not nearly as Welsh as Brwckyn, and soundman Brian, who is English), with one major setback: he has been refused his license. I can't think why, really, because although he isn't the most polished of hoops, he seems safe enough on a horse, rides with great confidence, and has already shown in point-to-points that he can get from A to B satisfactorily.

So far, I've only given you a taste of Brwckyn without really giving you the full Brwckyn. Bryckwn is a true brahmameister, and I mean this in the very best sense. He is a remarkable man. He is a TV presenter/director/producer (ie 'identity') cum pop star and, although you'd think he'd never left Wales in his life, he's apparently very popular in Italy (as well as Wales, obviously), and has played at Glastonbury (in a band called Jess, in 1996). He is blessed with a very theatrical manner, with bountiful arm and leg movements (very like John Cleese, only completely natural) as he declaims. He has a very good and entertaining turn of phrase, even though I suspect English isn't his language of choice: when he and Hew converse, they prefer to use their native tongue. If Shakespeare's plays were ever translated into Welsh, you'd give Brwckyn the lead role without hesitation, even if you might want to ask him to remove his nose-ring (and maybe shave off his goatee) for the show. He is a very decent and friendly man who is overflowing with one of life's most important attributes: enthusiasm. In short, he was a most welcome visitor, and I really hope we see him again. He has to return to the Racing School for a second attempt at being licensed, so I hope we'll see him when he comes up for that - and if I heard he was riding in a race, I'd love to go there to wish him well and give him moral support. I took my camera out with me again yesterday when Brwckyn rode Brief, so I hope we'll have a few illustrations to accompany this text. They should be fairly self-explanatory. We had a string of four: Brwckyn on Brief, Gemma on By Storm, Gerry (making his first appearance of the year) on Belle Annie, and myself on Lady Suffragette. Hew and Brian recorded the moment, and Frank Conlon, Henry Cecil's former head lad who now helps out at the Racing School, accompanied them from the stable to Long Hill to make sure they got where they were to go when they were to go there.

An added brahma of Brwckyn's visit occured earlier in the week. Gerry had, as mentioned in the previous chapter, turned fifty at the start of this week, so he came to Newmarket on Tuesday evening to be toasted. Gemma organised a small get-together in the Wagon And Horses which I attended, and the BBC Wales team came along too. Gemma had alerted our former colleague James, who is Gerry's number one fan and who appointed himself to the role of helping him into his tights on Newmarket Town Plate day last year, of the get-together but, unbelievably, James decided that he would be too busy making his sandwiches for his following day's trip to Nottingham to come to the pub for an hour or two that evening. No sooner had we digested this suprise than we became aware of just what a gathering James was missing. Not only was there Gerry, of course, but Brwckyn, a rockstar race-rider and therefore truly a man after Jim's heart. But the piece de resistance was the discovery of the project which Brian had just completed. James, a life-long rock fan and currently bongo-player with obscure Haslingfield-based band 'Midlife Crisis', only hears about 50% of what anyone says to him (I sometimes used to think that he'd only ever hear 5% of what I was saying to him) and for this he blames one of the most memorable nights of his life: he was in the audience in the Hammersmith Apollo in 1973 when Deep Purple played the loudest concert ever (according to the Guiness Book Of Records - and, presumably, modern health and safety legislation will ensure that that's a permanent record). And what has Brian just done? He's produced a DVD on Deep Purple, complete with live footage of that very concert no doubt and available in all good record shops as of this week. So what a line-up: Gerry, Brwckyn and Brian - and no Jim! He'd have been in his element, but instead spent the evening making a round of sandwiches, checking that he'd got his anorak (yes, the blue one) in case it rained, and getting his flask ready to have the boiling water added to the Barry's tea in the morning. Unbelievable.

So that made for a very entertaining evening, and their presence in our midst yesterday morning was even better. And this morning we had Aisling back, returned from her two-month stint in the UAE. So that's excellent - and if Somewhere Safer at the Gold Coast tomorrow and Lady Suffragette at Towcester on Sunday can both run well, that will be the icing on the cake.

Many Happy Returns

We're in the middle of a glut of significant birthdays. Many happy returns to all those in celebratory mode, some of whom I will hail here. Today is the fiftieth birthday of Vanda Sturch, who has a particular place in my personal history because, of all the people I know in Newmarket, I have known her the longest. When I was a boy, Vanda was working for Gordon Richards, and she used to look after any horses my mother owned there. She and my mum became good friends, which was nice, and the link has been continued now that Vanda, along with her husband Phil and daughter Emma, live in the same street as I do: Exeter Road. I didn't know in advance that today was her fiftieth, but I knew early on, because her house had been festooned in decorations under cover of darkness, so I probably became aware of the landmark at around 7.08 this morning.

Vanda is the second of our friends to turn fifty this week, because Gerry Chesneaux, the king of the ring (phnarr, phnarr - no smuttiness intended) hit the same mark yesterday. And she's actually the third to celebrate a big birthday this week, following Joff's fortieth on Sunday. Not that I've ever spoken to him, but I should also acknowledge that Barry Hills, one of Britain's finest trainers, turned seventy yesterday - and celebrated with a winner at Lingfield. Plus one at each of today's Flat meetings, Folkestone and Southwell. Barry Hills also appears to have the distinction of being one of British racing's very few successful figures not to have appeared in court as a character witness on behalf of the Mr Big of the cocaine world, Brian Wright (more fairly described as Britain's nicest man, if you believe most of our leading trainers and jockeys) who has just been put away - doesn't it make you proud to be involved in the sport? It's obviously a year for milestones, because unless I'm mistaken Michael Tidmarsh has a landmark birthday this year, and then of course Richard Sims will hit the Big Five-Oh in December. He celebrated his fortieth in drag (purporting to be, at various stages of the festivities, Stevie Nicks and Linda McCartney), so I shudder to think what tricks he has up his sleeve to horrify the membership of the veterans' section of the Keysborough Squash Club this time around.

I'm very pleased with the photographs which Emma has attached to my previous blog chapter, the only problem being that I've had requests for more of them - there were a couple of action-packed shots as we cantered down to the start in a bunch, and then there are one or two very usable views at the start as the golden pink sun lights up the grey sky. Keen-eyed observers will be able to detect the Rowley Mile grandstand in the distance through the mist.

I've also been thinking of several more shots which I should take on future rides. This morning when I was passing the time of day with Nick Pearce, who always gives us a friendly welcome from William Jarvis' string, I thought the blog should contain a photo of him. Nick has become something of a legend. He is a very accomplished point-to-point hoop (he rode two winners at Cottenham at the weekend) who first came to our attention driving around the town in a car displaying the very prominent logo 'Nick Pearce Jump Jockey'. That was actually rather handy, just in case we mistook him for Nick Pearce Flat Jockey (an easy mistake to make, as he's only an inch or two taller than I am). Since then, he has established himself as a valuable source of friendly and helpful advice and support to Olly on his occasional competitive ventures, even if he does appear to be Olly's nemesis: I feel that if Olly ever did ride a winner, Nick would be sure to ride at least a double on the card. Nick has also established himself as a really nice guy whom I always enjoy seeing in the mornings, so I think he definitely deserves to appear as an illustration to a future blog.

As you'll have seen, we had a snap of Luca's string in the previous chapter - the rider in the foreground is Camilla Milbank, on, so I'm told, Minority Report, who I seem to remember as having been a leading fancy for last year's Royal Hunt Cup - and I think I should now follow up with a shot of Charlie McBride's small string. Charlie had yet another winner today (with an Act One, would you believe?) and horse for horse he must be the most successful trainer in the town over the past few months. He really deserves his success because he is as dedicated and industrious as they come. As you'll be aware, we have another battler happily settled in our yard now, as Dave Morris is now in his fifth week here. I'll have to take a picture of him too. There is a zoom lens on the camera, but it's only a fairly basic one, so I'll probably need to be quite close to Dave when I take the picture, so that you'll be able to pick him out. Nobody has yet moved into his former yard across the road, but the word is that Don Cantillon is the purchaser and there are now signs of preparatory work going on there, so I suspect we'll see the Don in residence shortly. And I did see him walking up the street a day or two ago. But we'll just have to wait and see what happens: secrecy is one of Don's many quirks but, once he and his string are in, not even he will be able to keep his presence a mystery. It'll be good, because it will increase the eccentricity factor of Exeter Road - already very high - even further. Plus its canine factor, when the famous Skip, who has been seen on horse-back on numerous racecourses and has probably spent even more time annoying horses on the Heath than Alice, takes up residence.

I'll just leave you with a review of today's racing, because Jason Weaver treated us to a truly delightful remark on At The Races which does not deserve to go unrecorded. We've already acknowledged Charlie McBride's winner, and we should also remark on the win at Southwell of the Simon Griffiths-trained Count Cougar, who took his record for 2007 to four wins and a second from five starts. And that's following two wins in 2006 and three in 2005 - very praiseworthy. Also deserving of applause is Paul Midgeley, who won with what had seemed a very unlikely horse. Kadia, an Arkadian Hero grand-daughter of the mighty Soba, races in the same colours which Soba bore, but her form prior to today was atrocious: beaten 89 lengths in a bumper over fourteen furlongs, then beaten 25 lengths in maiden over eight furlongs, then beaten 11.5 lengths in a maiden (won by our friend Shaftesbury Avenue) over seven furlongs. And today, in a desperately weak 4-runner six furlong maiden on the fibresand, she went off at 20/1 - and won under Micky Fenton. A very nice result - and just what her pedigree would have predicted.

Anyway, to Jason. Placed in the second race at Folkestone was a lovely grey three-year-old maiden who had caught my eye (because of his lovely behaviour as much as anything) on the Heath earlier in the year, Welsh Auction, trained by Geoff Huffer and owned in partnership by Usk Valley Stud. And then placed in the third race was our old friend Mick Is Back, the ultra-industrious three-year-old by Diktat ex Classy Cleo. He won four days ago on his eighth start of the year (he's now finished in the first four seven times in 2007, and we're only on April 3rd), and he should have won again today, but he was a certainty beaten after Stephen Donohoe found all the trouble going. When he did get out, he made up about four lengths in the last 100m, but just failed to catch the Neville Callaghan-trained Doctor Ned, ridden by William Buick (5). Sadly for little William, who had had a fall in the Brocklesby on Saturday, he took another tumble today, because he fell off just after the post, suffering concussion but, fortunately, nothing worse than that. It could, of course, have been a lot worse, especially when one considers a condition which Pippa Cuckson has brought to my attention today: "serious trauma to the nether regions". This, apparently, can afflict beast as well as man. Pippa has requested that I don't expound on this topic on the blog, so I won't. Anyway (I will get to the point eventually), Jason Weaver's account of this incident was that William Buick "had an unceremonious dump just after the line". Perhaps Jason's understanding of the phrase "to have a dump" is different from mine, but I'm still chuckling at the thought of the poor groundsman who'll have to clear up afterwards. And I'm trying to work out whether serious trauma to the nether regions would have caused or inhibited this midemeanour.

That'll do for one evening. I'm now off to drop Emma off at a dinner at the racecourse. It's a pre-Guineas publicity evening, where the press mingle with Newmarket's better trainers and, hopefully, summon up the enthusiasm to write about how swimmingly things are going in HQ. She went to it last year and, bizarrely, both Michael Prosser (clerk of the course) and Lisa Hancock (commander in chief) asked her why I wasn't there; to her shame, she didn't tell the true answer (that they hadn't invited me), but instead mumbled something about my being too busy (blogging!) to turn up, which probably killed whatever extremely slender chance I had of receiving an invitation this time around.