Sit-down Saturday

They make 'em tough up north. Today's going pretty easily so far, with things running smoothly to see us catching action galore on the television. Things got off go a great start when it became apparent that our usual ATR Aussie 2.30 to 5.30 slot, which had seemed devalued since the clocks had gone forward here and back in Victoria and NSW, had been extended by a couple of hours, which meant that we got the full Golden Slipper card, complete with five Group One races, from Rosehill. I don't know whether this will be an everyday extension, or just for today's special programme, but we'll be very much hoping that we can get the 2000m handicap from Wangaratta tomorrow: the meeting's definitely being shown, but I haven't checked the times yet - but fingers crossed we can see the mighty Joolzy, our Empire mighty mare, attempting to take her record to two from two since we were welcomed on board as very small partners. To be able to sit here at home and watch our horse running at Wangaratta seems just too good to be true.

Anyway, the reason for my opening observation stems from the obvious fact that Rosehill is far from the only meeting we'll be viewing today. Obviously Nad Al Sheba is the main focus, but there's also the Lincoln/Brocklesby (usual suspects step forward) card at Newcastle, presented by the excellent Gordon Broon. At what I believe is called the head of the programme, Broonie appeared standing on the track, resplendent in shirt, tie and blazer, looking very summery. As he beamed at the camera, he enthused about the combination of good racing and good weather, saying (with no hint of irony) that the forecast was for the temperature to reach a very pleasant high of fifty! For those who have ceased to be au fait with the old scale, this is ten degrees centigrade - hence my observation that they breed 'em tough up north.

Fortunately it's considerably balmier than that here, as a few photos which accompany this blog might suggest. It was a lovely morning, which prompted me to put into action a plan which had been germinating in my head for a while. Emma gave me the little digital camera for Christmas, which I've been using frequently, and the plan was to take a few shots from horse-back. So today it was a lovely morning and I was on a lovely horse (Lady Suffragette), which of course meant that this was too good an opportunity to miss.

We (ie Gemma on Belle Annie, Nikki on Brief Goodbye and little Lady S and I) actually had Southfields to ourselves, but it seemed as if the world and his wife were using the gallop across the flat parallel with the Rowley Mile. As we walked over there Michael Stoute's huge string was coming back, and as we walked home we had first Luca's (above)) and then Henry Cecil's strings walk past us on the outward journey. I was really pleased with the action shots I took cantering down, walking across at the far end of the Heath by the Rubbing House and looking back towards the racecourse stands and the rising sun, and galloping home. There was one shot which is just all ears and mane of Lady Suffragette (left): I must have been (by my standards) adopting a relatively stream-lined position at that instant. Emma, however, is less pleased with the photo-shoot, as she reasons it indicates too cavalier an attitude towards basic common sense and safe practice on my part; but I have reassured her that I had taken the sensible precaution of looping the camera's strap around my wrist to prevent it having a fall. She didn't seem that impressed by this, but at least she's agreed to put up the pictures - even if she's warned me off repeating the exercise.

What was particularly nice about my morning was that it was a typically easy Saturday morning and I only rode two horses - and they were both Lady Suffragette. That really is the recipe for perfection: the only thing better than riding her once is riding her twice. All was done at a disgracefully early time when Chris Dwyer rung to say it would suit him to bring a two-year-old grey filly by Dr Fong (pictured), whose arrival had been pencilled in for tomorrow, to the stable at 11.30 this morning, and to have a ride on her up Warren Hill when he did so. So: step forward one volunteer, please ... ah, Lady Suffragette, of course. So Chris and I had a very pleasant canter up the all-weather together.

That concluded an easy morning for me, but Chris, a tireless worker, is having a far harder day: he'd started it by taking a mare up to Shadwell, near Thetford, to be covered by Storming Home, and said he'll be ending it by taking a mare to Dalham Hall Stud for a MIDNIGHT covering by Tiger Hill - with his son Mark a nomination salesman there, one might have thought he'd have drawn a slightly better gate than that! This new arrival which he brought looks to have been extremely well educated, as you'd expect, and she should be ready to run in a small amount of weeks. She looks very nice. It will be interesting firstly to see her gallop, and then a bit later on to see how Imperial Decree (Diktat filly) goes with her, because the latter is coping with her daily canters with Martha very well, is looking stronger by the day and has so far seemed to be the model two-year-old pupil. Long may that scenario continue - but of course with all horses, particularly young ones, setbacks and disappointments can throw themselves into your path at any second. Poor Vince Smith discovered that a few minutes ago: I don't know how well or badly he was expecting his Brocklesby runner to fare, but I'm sure he wouldn't have anticipated that she'd be squeezed out by the horses around her two furlongs from home and suffer a really nasty fall. She looked to get up unharmed, but it will have given her confidence a tremendous jolt, so fingers crossed she isn't mentally scarred for life.

Having started the day watching the Golden Slipper, it's hard to enthuse over the Brocklesby. The Slipper was wonderful, and really pleasing to see the winner ridden by Damien Oliver - filling a notable gap on his superb CV - and sired by Flying Spur, whom I've had the pleasure of seeing twice: at the Irish National Stud in 1997 and at Arrowfield in 2006. He's a lovely horse whom I've admired for years. As for the younger pretenders to stallion stardom, Dubai Destination is already off the mark, having sired the winner of Britain's first juvenile race of 2007, the maiden auction on the all-weather at Lingfield on Thursday. This winner was out of the lovely former sprinting filly Blue Iris, but whether the form will amount to much is debatable. Kyllachy sired the rather attractive Brocklesby winner Mister Hardy, with sons or daughters of several first-season sires behind him. I didn't notice the Catcher In The Rye, but the Choisir looked to run semi-OK, as did to a lesser extent the Viking Ruler, while the Hold That Tiger ran atrociously, which will probably surprise Richard Sims and no one else.

That's enough of that - I'm off to watch some more Nad Al Sheba action.

A free lunch

That's been a real treat. I've just got back from something which supposedly doesn't exist: a free lunch. Emma and I have just been lunched courtesy of thoroughbredinternet, the site to which we both contribute a little and which we read a lot because it is THE best way of keeping abreast of what's going on in the racing and breeding world. The lunch was nominally a post-nuptualization celebration for us with Simon Thompson, the site's proprietor, and Alix Choppin, his right-hand person. We ate in Steven Saunders' bistro in Crown Walk, and it was really pleasant. An added bonus was the presence in the restaurant of two of Newmarket's most distinguished men about town, Mark McStay (who bowed to contemporary fashion trends by keeping the hood of his hooded sweat-shirt down throughout the meal) and Simon Callaghan, ensconced cosily at a table-for-two. Diligent readers of this blog might recall a rumour being spread on a previous post about McStay possibly being in line for a position with Coolmore; well, I don't want to speculate on that subject, so I will just content myself by saying that Simon's father Neville, to whom Simon is assistant trainer, has been a long-standing trainer for Michael Tabor and, more recently, for Michael Tabor and his Coolmore buddies - including training Danehill Dancer for them - and hails from Fermoy, which is just about slap bang in the middle of Coolmoreville. So whether we read anything into this clandestine luncheon get-together I'll leave to your own powers of deduction.

So that was very pleasant, as was our trip to Towcester yesterday. Mattie surprised us all by behaving impeccably before, during and after the race. And he ran well too. He was only tenth of sixteen, but it was a good tenth. The first two looked really nice prospects and came home five lengths clear of the third; third to eleventh were closely bunched, with the remainder strung out like washing. I'd imagine he'd have one more bumper run this spring - very possibly back at Towcester on the last Tuesday in April, when Lady Suffragette could also run in a mares' novice hurdle - and then have a summer out at grass. He did nothing yesterday to contradict the belief that he's a really nice long-term National Hunt prospect in the making. The only bad moment yesterday was when Sam Jones dismounted him immediately after the post. He feared that there was something amiss because the horse pulled up really quickly as soon as he eased him down, and because he was whinnying. Fortunately, the horse seems to be completely unscathed. What he wasn't to know is that it is a trait of Mattie's to ease himself down smartly after a gallop, and that his whinnying seems to be nothing more than a reflection of what a real baby he is. But that babyishness is being gradually eradicated, and yesterday's experience will have been a big step forward along the road to adulthood for the horse.

So this weekend we have a wonderful card from Nad Al Sheba to watch, plus I hope some of Slipper day at Rosehill. Now that the clocks have changed, we're not so well placed for seeing the best Australian action. When the time difference was eleven hours in Victoria and NSW, our 2.30 to 5.30 am time slot meant that we were getting the races 1.30 to 4.30 pm, which was ideal. It's now only nine hours, so that means we see whatever races are being run 11.30 to 2.30, which means the early races but probably not the feature events. Still, every race at Rosehill tomorrow will be good, so if we see even some of them it will be a treat. And the whole card from Nad Al Sheba will be a true three-line whip. And Racing UK will be the chosen medium - James Willoughby's comments (assuming he's co-presenting the show) will be the icing on the cake.

Hope springs eternal

Hope springs eternal. We don't need much encouragement to confirm optimistically to ourselves that things are going as they should, so my heart gave a little nod of satisfaction when I read this morning that Lady Suffragette's three-year-old King Charlemagne half-sister Peppin's Gold had won a ten furlong three-year-old seller on the all-weather at Lingfield yesterday. The omens are looking good for our dear little lady! I don't know who'd be less unlikely to breed a stayer, Mull Of Kintyre or King Charlemagne (Mull Of Kintyre would definitely be less unlikely to breed a good horse), so the dam must stamp 'em: the Racing Post reports that "... although she is tiny, she proved too game for her weak rivals. She saw the trip out well, although her stamina was not put fully to the test". That could be a report of our one winning a race (if that were ever to happen). Fingers crossed ...

Fingers crossed too for Mattie tomorrow as he faces the starter for the first time at Towcester, along with fifteen opponents. He's quite slow, but seems to plod along dourly enough; I just don't know how slowly one can get away with plodding along in a Towcester bumper. I just hope he behaves himself and acquits himself with credit. He should do, but we'll have to wait and see.

I'm afraid that I can't give you any further updates on the bustling activity on the Heath as Newmarket prepares for the forthcoming Flat season, because we had extremely thick fog this morning so I didn't see many horses. I assume that the usual number were out there, though, but just not within a 40m radius of me. I did see fifty or so of Ed Dunlop's horses, but they were walking past me so I didn't pick up any clues about the brilliance or otherwise of their work. His two assistants, Matt Cumani and Toby Coles, were both on foot (and both kindly ushered us across the Bury Road at various times, which was much appreciated) and I'd have to give best turned-out to Toby. The deciding factor was his hat, which I'm pretty sure was the same one which Omar Sharif wore in Dr Zhivago.

Goodbye Super

How ironic is this? In my last posting, I wrote about Shaftesbury Avenue, the name of one of my all-time favourite horses. I was very lucky in that I first went to Australia during an era of outstanding horses. Mind you, we all say that about the horses who ushered us into a love of a particular area of the sport. Anyway, I was lucky enough in one brief period to see Better Loosen Up, Vo Rogue, Let's Elope and two particular rivals, Shaftesbury Avenue and Super Impose. Of those five horses, Shaftesbury Avenue and Super were particular rivals, and generally Super would shine under handicap conditions as weight didn't seem to worry him and the hectic tempo of a big field suited his style, while Shaftesbury Avenue would thrive under weight-for-age conditions because of his huge talent. Anyway, only days after taking my little trip down memory lane courtesy of Shaftesbury Avenue mark two winning a race in the UK, I read today of Super Impose's death. And I have to confess that I've shed a few tears. I've really surprised myself by how moved I've been at the news of his passing, and at the memories of this wonderful horse which it has prompted. Not that I need news of him to remember him, because I sleep under a large mounted and framed photograph, which Richard Sims kindly gave me many years ago, of Super and Darren Beadman cantering down to the start at Randwick before a Ranvet Stakes. It's number 692 in a limited edition of 850, and it is signed by the photographer and by Lee Freedman. It is impressive, even if not quite as awesome as the huge framed montage of photos of several of Super's best wins which we saw in Freedman's office at his property at Rye last November. We actually admired it in the company of Super's former strapper Scotty McGhie, which was rather nice. (Scotty showed us around the property because Lee seems to lie low when his less important clients, eg Richard, appear - compare and contrast with the personal welcome we received from the arguably equally talented Anne Taylor at Benalla, who showed us her photos of several horses, all called either Something Mooncoin or Delatite Something herself - plus a photo of a herd of sheep on the Dingle peninsula, surprisingly enough).

Anyway, I'm posting this blog on a beautiful warm and sunny spring afternoon for no reason other than to offer a eulogy to Super. A wonderful horse. I've already offered one eulogy to him by writing a grey panel for tomorrow's thoroughbredinternet entitled Super Star, which is far too long but which I hope won't be cut. I never saw Super win a race in the flesh, but the race I most remember is his second Doncaster Handicap, which I watched in a bar at Kyneton on Easter Saturday 1991. Even at Kyneton, hundreds of miles from Randwick and in a different state, the excitement at Super's success was huge. I have in the house a video of his win, as an eight-year-old on his penultimate (ie 73rd) start in the 1992 Cox Plate, perhaps the most exciting race ever, which I might dust down and watch again tonight. I have the video 'Super, Better, Best' but somehow watching the original live version of that great race might be better. The remainder of my Super memorabilia includes a photograph in an old Racetrack magazine which Greg Hall signed for me when he was in Newmarket in 2000 of him and Super returning to scale that day, and various holiday snaps of Richard Sims, Jimmy Graham and I patting Super in 1993, 51 weeks after his final race (his joints were still swollen even after nearly a year out of training) in the field near Echuca where he spent the first part of his retirement. In the great scheme of things these scraps of paper are of no significance at all, but to me they are very precious mementoes of a very special horse.

I'll leave you with the words which Les Carlyon wrote in the Melbourne Age of 22nd February 1993 following Super's retirement - he'd been spelled following his unplaced run in 1992 Melbourne Cup and then brought back into training, but Freedman decided not to run him once he'd been in work for a few weeks because it was apparent that his joints couldn't stand any more strain. I remember seeing footage from the tv news in Melbourne of him being loaded onto the float to head off to his new home, and he was terribly sore even at the walk, so it shows just how far Super's great courage had taken him before enough had to be enough. Anyway, this was the end to the article (which was actually prompted by three almost simultaneous retirements, the others being Better Loosen Up and Let's Elope):-

"So now racing stands poorer. But remember this: at this moment around Australia, several hundred trainers are throwing rugs over horses they think will become the next Super Impose. The game lives on such dreams. The good news is that, eventually, one of these trainers will be right. Only then can the pageant move on". Leaving aside that I'm not sure that the hundreds of trainers (myself included) who dream of one of their charges becoming the next Super Impose actually 'think' that that will happen, you remember that Super was just an ordinary plain chestnut gelding who won two (at Seymour and Benalla) of his first sixteen starts, and then you think that maybe, just maybe ...

Aintree, Nad Al Sheba, Epsom and Towcester

We're slowly working our way back to spring, take two. We haven't had a repetition of the snowy scene depicted on my previous blog entry (Wednesday), although we did have a further snow fall the following day. It's still cold and grey, and a few snow flakes this afternoon wouldn't be a complete surprise, but if they do fall they won't last. And they won't fall on me, unless they come towards the end of the afternoon, because earlier on I'll be stretched out - with either a dog, a cat, or both - in front of the tv watching a cracking Winter Derby Day at Lingfield. I'll also have to make sure to catch the handicap hurdle at Navan on ATR, as Irish National winner Point Barrow completes his Grand National preparation. He's become our sentimental hope for the race, as his trainer Pat Hughes' nephew Philip was here again this morning (and rode Jack Dawson and Brief Goodbye) again with Andrew McCarthy. As regards the Grand National, I'd been a huge Nil Desperandum fan, with Little Brick the secondary selection, so was greatly saddened at the fatal accidents to those horses at Uttoxeter and Cheltenham last week. Racing, particularly jumps racing, can be a very cruel sport.

Next Saturday will be even better than today, with possibly the best line-up ever for Dubai World Cup night. Perhaps not the greatest World Cup ever - Cigar v. Soul Of The Matter could hold that title, or perhaps Dubai Millenium's stroll in the park - but certainly one of the very best as Invasor faces some very good pretenders to his title of the world's best; and the supporting races have attracted a great spread of top horses from around the world. I certainly hope I enjoy the day more than the equivalent day last year, when we had the heart-break of seeing Benedict suffer a fatal injury in the Lincoln at what seemed a truly God-forsaken Redcar. Even without that terrible experience, the sight of the pathetic line-up for the Brocklesby would have made a trip to Redcar a depressing experience that day, so I'm already steeling myself for the depressing fact of racing life which the early two-year-old races are. It isn't so bad overseas, where the early juvenile races are valuable and prestigious contests in which trainers run good horses, but here it is just the country's most ruthless trainers running the ones they consider the most expendable. Last year's Brocklesby contained arguably the weediest collection of horses ever assembled for a race, but it did give us the first clue that Invincible Spirit was on his way to sire-stardom as it produced his first winner, albeit by default with a very poor horse. It also provided us with the first clue that the lovely Act One might be going to prove himself to be a very disappointing stallion: I may be writing him off prematurely, but it is currently very hard to enthuse about his stud career. His Brocklesby runner - a pathetic creature who looked as if he wasn't even ready to be weaned, and who would surely then have been still at least twelve months away from his debut if anyone other than David Evans had been his trainer - caught my eye solely because of his lack of appeal, and about the only one other Act One horse I've noticed since then was a Mark Johnston-trained, Sheikh Mohammed-owned debutante in a four-runner twelve furlong 3-year-old maiden at Lingfield yesterday. She was forecast to be a 7/2 shot in the Racing Post, but her SP was 20/1. Unsurprisingly she finished fourth (behind a beautiful Galileo Derby entrant called Wandle and a pair of In The Wingses), but she actually far ran better than her market drift and last place suggest - so perhaps there might be a glimmer of light at the end of Act One's tunnel after all. I certainly hope so, because one always likes to see talented Classic stayers become good stallions. On the subject of Mark Johnston and Sheikh Mohammed, incidentally, I see that Niall Hannity was listed as the purchaser of the horse I admired so much at Doncaster on Wednesday, Rain And Shade, so I presume that Ferdy Murphy will be his trainer. He is definitely a horse to remember.

One nice result in the week came a couple of days ago when a horse who has been mentioned in a previous posting, Shaftesbury Avenue, won a six furlong maiden at Southwell on his third outing. He'd run down the track on his debut, when his name had caught my eye, but then ran much better second time out to be second. And this week he won impressively under Darryll Holland. I saw this race on At The Races, and it was my first sighting of the horse, and was tickled to see that he actually does look very like his great Australian namesake. It's still hard to believe he might be as good as the original Shaftesbury Avenue, but he's certainly a very nice horse and I'll be wishing him well as his career develops. It's good to see his trainer Jimmy O'Reilly with a decent horse, and one has to salute him for buying this son of Fusaichi Pegasus as an unraced three-year-old out of Ballydoyle last autumn for only 3,500 gns. The bargains are there - one just has to find them.

Another horse I'll be wishing well will be Authorized, the Peter Chapple-Hyam-trained Racing Post Trophy winner. We caught sight of him this morning walking back from, I presume, a gallop Across The Flat, ridden by the lad who looks after him, Noel O'Connor, and he looked a million dollars. He's a magnficent horse who looks to have done really well over the winter, and will be a worthy opponent for Teofilo in the Derby. The Heath is an exciting place at this time of year as one sees the signs of the oncoming season. The old stalwart The Whistling Teal has come out of winter quarters and we've been seeing him most mornings in his usual routine of wandering around seemingly aimlessly on his own under his lad Gary Corney. When we passed Mark Tompkins' string the other morning he had both Darryll Holland and Jimmy Quinn riding out, which is a sure sign of the approach of the season. Mark must have pulled a few strings to get them both to ride out from the yard, rather than just meet him up on the Heath, so I'd say that he's got a few horses that he thinks might be ready to run well. And as for our armoury - roll on Towcester!

Sunshine in Doncaster - hold the back page!

I can't believe how lucky we were with the weather last week and the week before that. It was glorious. You'll have seen a photo on a blog I posted last week of David leading Lady Suffragette around the unsaddling enclosure at Plumpton in shirt sleeves, and that is representative of the week. Following the rainy weekend at the start of the month when we were married, the clouds were blown away and then the weather settled down, so that Cheltenham week was idyllic. It was then forecast to deteriorate markedly over the weekend, and for once they got it spot-on. As photo I took out of the dining room window this morning at around 6.20 will testify: March 21, but you'd think it was January 21 as the yard in the foreground and Warren Hill in the background are covered in snow. But the sun's already over the horizon and slashing its way through the clouds, and I believe that, even though it's bloody cold again this evening, spring will be returning shortly.

Things must be picking up because we were at Doncaster Sale this arvo and it was quite pleasant there: Doncaster sales complex is, with the exception of Southwell, the bleakest place in Britain, so when conditions there are comfortable, one knows the glass is set fair. We had gone up to peruse a few Darley-owned horses, mostly consigned by Mark Johnston. In particular we were looking at a 3-year-old full-brother to the Group One winner Soldier Hollow, named Peregrine Falcon: by In The Wings ex Island Race, by Common Grounds. Antony Harbidge had highlighted him, making an educated guess from his recent runs and his background that he was a horse with a fair future, and I concurred. Sadly, although the sum he fetched was not a big one in the great scheme of things (17,000 gns), it was more than we were in a position to outlay. He was bought by Christian von der Recke, so I suspect he will go to Germany, win two or three flat races there, then be brought back here to win a novice hurdle next winter, and be sold for £100,000 or so. It will be interesting to keep an eye on his future career, if possible. I must, incidentally, pay tribute to Mark Johnston for his helpfulness. Emma called his office on Monday morning to enquire about the horse, only to be told that none of the people immediately responsible for the horse were in the office at the time, but if she left a number, someone would call back. So she left my number, and at lunchtime Mark called me himself and gave me a very helpful and honest assessment. That was well beyond the call of duty, and very (typically) decent of him.

As often happens, the horses from Mark's stable didn't fetch as much as they would if hailing from, as Alan Whicker would have said in the old Barclaycard ads, "umm, certain other stables I could mention". This is, of course, because most people realise that few people would be able to turn a particular goose into a swan if he hasn't been able to do it: you only buy a horse from another trainer if you think you can train it better than he's been doing. In many cases, this isn't too difficult, because the modern-day habit of having as many horses in the stable as there are days in the year makes it virtually impossible for the trainer, however talented and/or conscientious, to do a proper job with more than a handful of them (it would be hard enough to do that if one had as many horses in the stable as there are days in the month, never mind the year); however, Mark is one trainer (Luca Cumani is another, as was Martin Pipe - and David now seems to have learnt pretty well from his old man) who has got the practice of organization down to such a fine art that he really does seem to get the best out of most of what he gets. And if he hasn't got the best out of them, it's normally because they have gone badly amiss, in which case one would want to hesitate before taking them on anyway. Anyway, Mark is a trainer from whom one should only buy with great circumspection, but the prices often reflect that, and anyway there are always going to be some which slip through the net - particularly among his Maktoum-owned horses, because they have to be pushed on through the pipeline pretty smartish, lest they cause a backlog to get in the way of the hundreds who are coming through to take their place. For what it's worth, two or three others in the draft caught my eye who may be worth keeping an eye on, in particular Rain And Shade, a three-year-old colt by Rainbow Quest from Coretta, by Caerleon from Free At Last, by Shirley Heights out of Brocade. I don't know who bought him, but he fetched 17,000 gns, and I predict that time will tell that the purchaser bought wisely; but then I did not have a close inspection of the horse, so there could be a drawback that I did not detect. Reciprocation (by Singspiel) was also a lovely horse, but his 36,000 gns price tag (bought by Kevin McAuliffe, so God knows where he'll be heading) will be harder to repay. And Whodunit was interesting: by Mark Of Esteem from a Sadler's Wells mare from a Riverman mare, he finished last on his debut in January, but he looked from a distance a grand horse, and he won't have to be special to look well bought at 4,000 gns. Another horse to remember is Hall Of Fame, who is never going to live up to his lineage: he is by Machiavellian from the great filly Petrushka. He has a big problem, which is that he has a defect in one of his hocks which means that the circulation in his lower limb is extremely poor, so that the whole area from coronet to hock is permanently grossly swollen. It is hard to see him becoming a superior athlete, and easy to see him not making old bones, but he has shown that he is at least a serviceable racehorse, having been placed three times over the winter, and he could prove an interesting purchase at 8,500 gns for Charlie Mann.

But - enough of my covetting other people's horses. What we've got to do is concentrate on the ones under our own care. Which is easy enough to do, as they aren't numerous. This morning, as we serious flat trainers ready our strings at the busiest time of the year in preparation for an all-out assault at the trainers' premiership, we had a grand total of six horses either cantering or galloping. I'd like to borrow a phrase from Alastair Down and say that "that's something to go to war with", but I don't know if I could do so with a straight face. However, the six are getting plenty of attention - and Lady Suffragette, whom I had the pleasure of galloping this morning, felt in pretty much perfect condition. And there wouldn't be many horses in Newmarket one could say that about. The only problem, of course, is that she is of very limited ability, but even so I suspect I will deflect her from the selling hurdle next week and instead allow her to get some more experience in a juvenile novice hurdle at the following Towcester meeting on Easter Day. I'd feel bloody stupid if I ran her in a seller next week and she finished second to a more experienced rival, was claimed and then won for someone else next time out.

We've got Chillly Cracker back, which is nice. She arrived from Chris Murray's Colton Farm Stud yesterday looking a million dollars. She was a solid filly last year, but she's now an in-foal five-year-old, and looks like a magnificent tank. She's in foal to that lovely horse Avonbridge, who could be about to fill the void left by the premature demise of his father Averti. Aahgowangowan was in foal to Avonbridge last summer when she went through a brief spurt of winning three times a week, so let's hope that lightning strikes twice. Chilly Cracker's problems last year were all in her head, but one is entitled to hope that being pregnant can act as a major attitude adjuster to a racemare; I don't know why this should be, but there's plenty of evidence to support this theory. So let's hope that Chilly Cracker can now relish the role of a racehorse. If she does, she could win a race; if she seems as if she doesn't, I doubt we'd run her, as taking her to the racecourse when she doesn't fancy the idea of racing is no fun, and a thankless task.

As regards people, I am happy to report that James has arrived safely back in the UK from his trip to Thailand. I don't know if I made it clear before, but this trip was a sort of 25th wedding anniversary celebration. Rather an odd one, you might think - and even odder when you realise that his long-suffering wife Alison didn't accompany him. We haven't had the full report yet, but he called by the yard the other morning to start to tell us the saga, and it seems he had the anticipated mighty time. I managed to avoid the full ladyboy debriefing. James was telling us that it's easy to understand why people get caught out by ladyboys, because they are "absolutely gorgeous" and it's very difficult to tell them apart from real women, so I interjected with a throwaway remark that "I suppose you didn't realise until afterwards" - but when his retort was the cryptic "Not even then", I decided that the conversation was getting too weird even for my taste, and managed to steer us onto a different subject. I'm planning to ask Gemma to get the full truth out of him and then give me a tastefully edited version. If Gemma can't manage that, it could be a job for Aisling when she gets back from Dubai, because I believe that Charlie's planning to invite Jim to have dinner with them soon after she gets home so he can tell them all about it.

Kauto Star, Kauto Star, Kauto Star

What a week. What a great Cheltenham Festival. And what a Gold Cup, what a win by Kauto Star. Wonderful. It's only four days since I last blogged, but Tuesday seems like a year ago now after all the sport that has thrilled us since then. Sublimity? Was it really only four days ago that he won the Champion Hurdle? We've had so much excitement since then. Voy Por Ustedes making the obvious, but in reality very difficult, transition from Arkle winner to Queen Mother winner; Well Chief and Ashley Brook falling (both unharmed, thank God). Inglis Drever, a true hero. And Mighty Man and Blazing Bailey both ran so well behind him. The Black Jack Ketchum debacle - did he even attempt to jump the hurdle? Denman, surely the horse to be Kauto Star's main rival next year.

Katchit, what a wonderful little professional. Wichita Lineman, so talented, and a win for Tony McCoy at last. Kauto Star, of course, and his seemingly inevitable last fence blunder. And full credit to Exotic Dancer too, not just for a great run yesterday, but for a winter of sustained excellence by this grand horse. Donald McCain and Richard Newland having first-season Festival wins, and David Pipe with wonderful little Gaspara. His dad had been overjoyed when she and McCoy had won the Imperial Cup three days previously, but seemed even more ecstatic this time - superb! And that's despite poor Little Brick's fatal fall an hour previously, which was so sad. Three wins for Jonjo and for Alan King, and four for Paul Nicholls. Robert Thornton's leading jockey award - thoroughly well deserved. Philip Carberry - two wins from three rides. And what about Kawagino - fifth in the Champion Hurdle and fourth in the County Hurdle three days later. That's excellent. Two wins for Ferdy Murphy, who has some good runs at the Festival every year, aided by very polished rides from Davy Russell and Graham Lee. My Way De Solzen: 3-mile World Hurdle last year, 2-mile Arkle Chase this. Idole First: Coral Cup two years ago, Mildmay Of Flete / Racing Post Plate this year. And Palarshan: second in the Racing Post Plate two years after being pulled up in the same race, and not racing at all in the 728 days in between. Amazing. And the anti-hero, the Bumper being won by a Fasliyev who'd gone through the Breeze-up! So that's the list of heroes from this perspective. Who and what have I missed out?

Here things have run reasonably smoothly. The weather's been great, although that supposedly really is about to change now. Ben and Anis Etoile (right, taking her first tentative steps on the heath with Martha) have fitted back into the routine very smoothly. Jill (top picture) and Belle Annie (below, with David) are starting to do a little bit of faster work, and doing it nicely - Emma took her camera out to Railway Land yesterday as we went up there, and you'd swear the photos of Jill are of Jack. And Belle Annie looked very professional. Mattie's galloping nicely, with excellent lessons from Brief Goodbye, so we're looking forward to his debut. Lady Suffragette seems fine after her race and has been accompanying Imperial Decree (Diktat) in her canters, so we can look forward to her second hurdles run now. We've got our jockey already - Tom Greenway very conscientiously called a couple of days after Plumpton to ask after her and, when I rather embarrassedly told him he wouldn't be eligible for her next race, he recommended Caroline Hurley to stand in. She was actually riding in the ladies' race at Huntingdon that day, but I didn't get much chance to assess her because her mount refused to race. (That wasn't her fault, because he'd done the same the previous time). She did well to get him over the first hurdle eventually, but that was that.

Elsewhere we've had our antipodean filly Somewhere Safer run fourth today, her first run since June and only her third ever. Michael was sure that she was thriving, and that's confirmed it, so we've got plenty to look forward to. With rainy Rosehill and sunny Sandown (Vic) covered by At The Races overnight, we obviously didn't get to see that (she was running at the Gold Coast), but I was holding out a slight hope that Benalla tomorrow might be shown overnight tonight, which would have allowed us watch Spaceage Juliet (see photo gallery) very possibly salute the judge, but unfortunately Orange and Ballina are the chosen venues, so we'll have to rely on our men on the spot to fill us in on that one too.

There's no Cheltenham Festival to entertain us next week, but if we can keep things running mostly smoothly towards the spring, then we can be satisfied with that.

From Flemington to Cheltenham

This is a first. I'm blogging in Godolphin House, the nerve-centre of thoroughbredinternet.com. If I were American I'd say it's on the corner of Avenue and High. Emma's down at Cheltenham and, although we have two laptops (well, I say 'we', but they're both Emma's), 'we' only have one power cable, which has obviously gone to Cheltenham with one of the laptops. So I have only limited laptop use at home in her absence. I wrote my Winning Post report on the laptop in the lorry on the way back home from Plumpton yesterday and that took an hour and used more than half the charge in its battery, so I've walked over here for the afternoon to use the machines here and to plug 'my' laptop into a powerline to re-charge for the afternoon. And while I'm here I can, in addition to blogging, write a grey panel. I'll have to keep my head down, though, because Simon Thompson, the site's proprietor, feels that there is already too much jumping coverage on the site - and how could I write grey panels this week that don't revolve around the Cheltenham Spring Carnival? Hopefully I can get Bronwyn onside by mentioning that the jockey who has just ridden the first winner (D.Condon) has ridden in a Melbourne Cup. And I think I can even provide a link between the first winner and this coming Sunday's HK Derby, so if I'm careful I can avoid attracting the wrath of Simon.

But the main thrust of this posting will naturally be our lovely trip to Plumpton yesterday. I was so proud of dear little Lady S. She did everything right and, although completely outclassed by the 1/5 winner, she came home best of the rest after putting in a very polished round of jumping, topped off by a dour run home up the final hill. As on the flat, it looks as if stamina will be her forte, and she is getting more and more professional all the time. Tom Greenway rode her very nicely and will retain the ride, but sadly he might have to be an absentee next time, as the likely next outing for her will be to Towcester, a track which, on yesterday's evidence, should suit her, on March 29th, the same day that Mattie is due to have his first run, and the race for her that day is restricted to lady riders. So if anyone can think of a good lady jumps rider who can ride at the minimum weight, please let me know.

It was such a pleasant outing yesterday. Plumpton is a lovely track, and never better than on a perfect spring day, which is what we had yesterday. The forecast band of rain hasn't arrived, so spring continues. It was my first visit to a jumps meeting since the awful day last May when Ngauruhoe was fatally injured at Wetherby, and it was a very nice way to reintroduce myself to the sport.

We've got a tipping competition going in the stable for Cheltenham, and I think it may be sewn up already, because I'm sure that someone has the 40/1 winner of the opener. I haven't the lists of selections with me, but I think that when I see them on my return to the yard they will confirm that Steve McCormick holds already what could be an unassailable lead. When he sent me his picks on a text, he said that he was planning to put the competition to bed on the first day - and I thought that that was tongue in cheek! Still, there's a long way to go.

One could make that same remark about Ben Bhraggie and Anis Etoile, regarding their progess towards their debuts, but each took a big step along the road this morning when their preparations resumed. We'd brought them back from Kerry's farm on Friday, where they'd enjoyed the wonderful break that horses always have when staying there, and today they were both ridden for the first time this preparation, Hugh riding Ben and Martha Anis. I think those riding arrangements will be fairly long-term, as both partnerships look very good. I accompanied them on Lady Suffragette, and it made for a thoroughly pleasant stroll during which both youngsters behaved impeccably. Ben in particular has done extremely well over the winter - which he needed to as he was shaping as the ultimate ugly duckling - and I'm far less bearish about his prosects than I was. Probably a big factor was that he benefitted from some treatment from Carol Whitwood the last time he was in work, and he has started to develop properly now thanks to her work.

That'll do for now as they must be going down for the Arkle (in which I've selected the Giant's Causeway five-year-old Jack The Giant - and wouldn't there be a grey panel in that?) so I must head across the road to the bookies to watch (Steve extend his lead, no doubt) ....

... Back from the bookies after a typically exhilarating Arkle. Stupid of me, I should have brought the lists of the selections with me so I could keep a track of things. I think I got it wrong, and that it's Tim Phillips who picked Ebaziyan in the first. He sent me a text just now to check that I had received his list of selections, which suggests that his is the list which is 40 points clear. This is going to be a very exciting week ...

... Ah, Sublimity. Why did I pick Straw Bear? So inconsistent. But Sublimity: that's great. I'm so pleased to see John Carr win the race. Cliff and I met him a few years ago on our trip to Perth, when Bold Cardowan ran there in his only novice chase (he ran so badly, jumping as if the fences were six-foot walls before being pulled up before halfway, that he never ran in another). John had brought a couple of horses over. I don't think either of them won, although he did have a horse trained by Ted Walsh on his lorry which did win, although it broke down so badly in the process that I fear it would have been put down shortly after its return to Ireland. I didn't know much about John Carr at the time, but I've kept a close eye on his horses since then because so friendly to us. On a lovely summer's day, he insisted we join him and his friend for a drink in Perth that evening after racing: I didn't feel at all like doing so after the dispiriting experience of watching Bold run so badly, even though Joe McCarthy predictably hadn't in any way made me feel that the expedition had been a fool's errand and he, Cliff and I had ended the afternoon with a lovely jovial high tea in the excellent lads' canteen. However, it would have been rude not to accept John Carr's invitation, and I'm glad that we did go down to the town, because he was great company and we had an excellent evening. And now, several years later, he's trained the Champion Hurdle winner, and I'm really, really pleased for him. And he's trained it with Sublimity. At the request of a trainer in Macau, I made inquiries about the possible purchase of Sublimity in probably April or May 2004, to which Bruce Raymond (the owner's racing manager) told me that his connections had, at that time, no plans to sell him, but that they probably would do so if a really big offer, ie several hundred thousand, was made. I passed this message on, with the suggestion that the horse would probably end up in the Horses-In-Training Sale in the autumn and would then most likely be purchasable for a hell of a lot less. That was indeed what happened, but the purchaser turned out to be John Carr, for whom the horse won a Listed race at the Curragh first time out the next year. And now, a further two years on, he's won the Champion Hurdle. Which is just really nice.

Alice's travels, part 643

It's been a while since I've blogged, says Alice. As the master of Beverley House Stables (as we laughingly call him) has gone out to do evening stables, I thought I'd jump on the Mac while the coast is clear. He doesn't really like me stealing his thunder.

I just haven't been out much, too cold and wet for an ageing Basenji of late, but today was glorious so I took the opportunity to supervise Olly cantering Desiree up Warren Hill. He's not bad for a rookie but I wish he'd model himself a bit more on my favourite jumps hoop, Nick Pearce. Now there's a handsome devil.

Anyway, Desiree, who has been at BHS nearly as long as I have, tends to think she owns the place and her behaviour can be a little bit precious. I don't know why she's such a prima donna, she's never even won a race (second at Beverley, pah!) but Olly's got her working well and I hope they let me stowaway in the lorry when she sets off for Huntingdon in May for their first outing together.

I was a little taken aback to be asked to do two canters up the hill but the master appeared on Mattie Stokes and we had to go up and watch him and pretend we were interested.

I made the most of the day-long sunshine by nipping off down the horsewalk to steal a bone from my secret source. Thought I'd got away with it but they spotted me as they were leaving the yard on Bilkie and By Storm. I'm going to have to be more careful...

Plumpton Festival preview (sans David Ashforth)

We're spoilt for pictures now. Diligent explorers of this site will note that there are great new photos everywhere: my blog, photo gallery (really good new shots), latest news, and most recently some have arrived on Emma's blog. And I believe that we're going to have one on this chapter of my blog which will carry the superb (Emma's idea) caption 'Trotter and galloper'.

This splendid partnership was one of the pairings we had on an excellent Saturday morning yesterday. Jamie Trotter looks like becoming a regular fixture on a Saturday, and he and Mattie Stokes make a great pair. Jamie had ridden Mattie two weeks ago and then yesterday partnered him on the same stretch of ground (a straight ten furlongs on Southfields) and confirmed my opinion that he's starting to get his act together. We'd had Gemma and her Racing School colleague Nicky in earlier, and then we had Suze, regular Saturday star, plus a very welcome guest appearance from Andrew McCarthy (below), who arrived with one of his compatriots, whose surname I stupidly can't remember, called Philip (nephew of Co. Carlow trainer Pat Hughes, who turned 64 yesterday, the Racing Post informed me). Andrew appeared here first about three years ago, produced by Mark McStay. He's a visitor I'm always pleased to see. I believe he and McStay were at college together. Andrew, who used to ride in point-to-points in Ireland when he was younger, initially planned to make a career in racing, and worked for Aidan O'Brien for a year, but then made the wise decision to earn his living in a less uncertain manner, and now lives and works in London. He was at Ballydoyle at the same time as Declan Daly, because I remember when Andrew was here previously one time Declan was supervising his horses on the Severals when we rode across them, and he and Andrew greeted each other as old friends; and Declan worked at Ballydoyle when Giant's Causeway was there. We hadn't seen Andrew for a couple of years, so I was delighted when he called me midweek to ask if he could come and ride out on Saturday. So he drove down from London to be here for 8.00, and he brought Philip, another of the Irish brain drain which keeps the City Of London on its toes, with him. So that was great: Andrew rode Brief Goodbye and Limit Down, and Philip rode Jack Dawson. And I rode nothing, which was a great luxury, as I was able to act like a normal trainer for once, and operate in a supervisory capacity. I'm really pleased with one of the photos taken yesterday of me overseeing matters on the Heath, as it makes me look like a normal trainer. I was even more pleased when Emma said that I looked very worried in the photo, because that brought to mind Sir Mark Prescott's dictum that a happy trainer is a bad trainer; that, however well things are going, if a trainer isn't worrying about at least one of his charges he's taken his eye of the ball. And the icing on the cake was that it was a glorious spring day, our sixth consecutively. And today is the seventh. (Inevitably, rain is forecast for tomorrow.) This was particulary pleasing as it was Philip's first visit to Newmarket, so he was able to see the Heath in its full glory.

As Emma has mentioned in her blog today, it was particularly nice to have an untaxing Saturday morning, as we'd had a late night on Friday in London. In my book, going to bed any time after ten makes the night a late one, and we didn't get to bed until after midnight, which is just about my worst nightmare. Still, it was a very pleasant evening, courtesy of Charlie and Lou Eddis, and we were kindly accomodated by Alan Byrne. The reason for this get-together is a mini-Cheltenham preview (one of the few which David Ashforth hasn't attended), at which we have to nail our colours to a few masts. Unbelievably, last year nobody present tipped a single winner, so the person with the most non-runners (whoever that was) emerged victorious. This year there were eight people, coming up with five selections each, so it will be a poor effort if none of those 40 picks win - especially as seven of the eight people present are full-time or part-time professional racing journalists. For what it's worth, my tips were Kauto Star (to undermine my stated conviction that he is a certainty in the Gold Cup, Charlie reminded me that last year I'd said the same thing about him in the Queen Mother Two-Mile Champion Chase, to which the obvious retort was that next year I'll be saying that he's a certainty in the Grand National), Well Chief, Blazing Bailey, Juveigneur, and Straw Bear to be placed in the Champion Hurdle (I wasn't really paying attention when Charlie told us the rules, but I think we were to nominate a horse at odds of 6/1 or longer to be placed). So we'll see. I believe that whoever does the worst has to host the following year's gathering, so let's hope that it's either Emma or I, as then we wouldn't have to go to London.

Unsurprisingly I nodded off in front the the television yesterday afternoon, but I didn't sleep for very long as my phone went off fifteen minutes later. However, I was delighted to be disturbed when I discovered the identity of the caller, because it was Lisa Jones calling from Macau to say g'day. I hadn't heard from her for ages, so it was really pleasing to take the call and hear that she's still thriving over there. She certainly deserves to thrive wherever she choses to ply her trade. She tells me that she's had mixed luck this season, with a satisfactory haul of rides and winners when she's been uninjured, but that she missed four months when she broke her elbow in a fall. She's had her license extended for the rest of the season, so the authorities and she are obviously both happy with the way things are going. We'll call her a British jockey, even though that's not really correct, and I think that makes her one of only two such there currently, the other being Tony Whelan (assuming he's still on the go), with Brett Doyle not having returned there this season. It's years since Tony last rode in the UK. I think his last stint here was when he worked for Mark Tompkins for a while, and I remember him riding Bold Cardowan for us then in a maiden at Catterick: Bold was a three-year-old then, and he ended up racing for several years over hurdles after he'd finished on the flat, and has been retired for several years, so that tells you how long Tony's been away.

We're getting towards dusk now, so I'll head out and fetch the horses in from what should have been a blissful spring afternoon of freedom for them. I'll give Lady Suffragette a particularly caring pat, to keep her in good spirits in advance of her big day at Plumpton. I was right in predicting that it would be a weak race: I think I've got her in good form, and I've certainly found the right race, so let's hope for the best. Just one thought before I sign off is that, as always, the Walrus' posting was a joy to read. Mention of Joseph O'Connor's 'Star Of The Sea' brings to mind what I particularly remember the book for. I add potassium iodide to the feed of unwell horses in the belief that it stimulates healing within animals (I don't know why, but a guess would be that white blood cells are rich in either potassium or iodine, or both - but that could be completely wrong); anyway, I give it to them believing that it does them good but not knowing why, or even if it does, so I was very pleased to read in that book that in the 1840s it was prescribed as an attempt to cure syphilis, which implies that our belief that it is a healer has stood the test of time (even allowing for the fact that, presumably, it doesn't actually cure syphilis). Oh yes, and on the subject of the Walrus' posting, regarding Liverpool v. Everton, Cliff tells me that his father, a lifelong Liverpool supporter, was buried in a blue shroud, which Cliff suspected was the undertaker's idea of a sick joke. Now, one obviously can have Protestant Evertonians, and presumably Catholic Liverpudlians, but I doubt that any Liverpudlian would chose to wear blue. I'd say that Mr Rimmer senior would have been turning in his grave even before he was fully lowered into it.

A happy time

Very slack. Far too long between posts. Any excuses? Not really. Oh well, we did get married on Sunday, which took up a bit of our time and a lot of our attention. It was a lovely day. For various reasons, we wanted to make it a low-key event, and make it a personal, rather than a social, occasion. How best to do this was the question, and the answer was provided by Paula Minchin, who kindly put us in touch with the vicar, Tony Douglas, of her parish - indeed, one could even say of her church, as she effectively assists Tony in being custodian of this very special and spiritual building - at Holkham. We met Tony and he agreed to marry us there, and he then proceded to do much more than that, as he organised what was a wonderful service.

The congregation, numbering 18 (including Emma and I), basically consisted of our immediate families, plus a handful of people who are as close as family: Paula and her partner Simon Lester (the head game-keeper on the Holkham Estate), Chris (who acted as my best man) and Shelley Dwyer (below), and Colin and Eileen Casey (left), who basically are my family, except that we're not actually related.

The ubiquitous and excellent Kevin Hawes drove (on what I believe was a memorable journey, during which apparently Emma's mum kindly made a few helpful suggestions to Kevin about motoring protocol) the eight who came up from Newmarket (Chris and Shelley, Colin and Eileen, plus the four who had stayed with us the previous night: Emma's parents David and Carol, my father Claude and my brother Dominic). These four had ensured that the previous evening was a memorable one. It had been the first time that Emma's parents had met my father or brother, and it was great to find that they got on famously.

I don't see Dominic (pictured here with Emma's sister Jules) nearly as often as I should, and that I should see more of him was particularly emphasised by the fact that he was in superb form and was really good company. He'd made a good effort to be there, because he had to be back in Edinburgh by the end of the weekend, so it was a long journey for a short visit, but I'm so pleased that he did so.

So the wedding was a wonderful occasion, not in the least spoiled by the rain, and we had a lovely lunch afterwards in the neighbouring Victoria Hotel, courtesy of David Collings. If anyone is unfamiliar with Holkham, which I was until we were rash enough to take Richard Sims there to have lunch with Paula, Simon and Simon's father Jim in November 2005, they can find out more about this truly special place on www.holkham.co.uk. We were so lucky to be married there. It has to rank as one of the finest estates in Britain, and therefore, I think it's fair to say, in the world.

Although Sunday was a wet, grey day, Emma and I stayed up there in one of the lodges on the estate for Sunday night (left), and on Monday morning we were much better able to appreciate its beauty, because it was a fine sunny (albeit windy) spring morning. I can report that I spent my wedding night in the approved manner: we watched 'Rough Diamond' and then I fell asleep during 'Lewis'. It was quite a wrench on Monday morning to break camp and head for home, but I had a Newmarket Trainers' Federation meeting to attend, followed by a post-haste drive with Emma to Lingfield, where Lady Suffragette ran a nice race, finishing a staying-on fifth.

A win would have been the icing on the cake, both for Emma and I and for Cliff Rimmer, who led her up on his birthday; I ought to know which birthday, but it was either his 74th or 75th. (Cliff, incidentally, is a native of Liverpool and, therefore, has a wry appreciation of the city of his birth and its inhabitants - and he was intrigued to learn that we had been married by someone who matches his description of "a posh Scouse - if there is such a thing"; and he was even more baffled to hear that Tony is a protestant Everton supporter). Anyway, the little lady couldn't manage a win, but she ran well in what was the battle of the pocket dynamoes: a driving finish fought out between Cathy Gannon and Sam Hitchcott, whose mount, the Phil McEntee-trained Dubai Sunday, got the verdict, to the surprise of most on-lookers, by about half a centimetre. What was pleasing was that our jockey was JD Smith, whom we've known and liked for years and who really is worthy of Jimmy Lindley's usual platitude "deserves more chances than he gets". I'm only ever able to throw JD aboard infrequently, and this would have been the first time I've put him up on something with a chance, but he always provides a good service. I managed to take a suprisingly good photo of him unsaddling the filly, which will probably find its way to accompanying this wafflefest.

I was tempted to take my camera to the Links this morning, when Tom Greenway schooled Lady Suffragette again, but I didn't because I knew that any photographs I took would be inferior to the ones which Emma took the last time she'd schooled. Not that there wasn't the potential for some good shots today, because the filly jumped really well and, on the evidence of last Monday's run and today's schooling, she should acquit herself very creditably next Monday when she makes her hurdling debut in what should be an extremely weak event at Plumpton. It is, of course, what is nowadays referred to as the Cheltenham Festival next week (traditionalists, of course, still think of it as the National Hunt Meeting, while I usually refer to it as the Cheltenham Spring Carnival) which will be great and which I'm getting very excited about, but without doubt the race next week to which I'm most looking forward will be the 4.00 at Plumpton on Monday. That's the thing about having one's own horses, however moderate they are: watching other people's, however good they are, just isn't the same. We were, incidentally, as fortunate today as we were the last time that Tom schooled her, because when I arrived up there Rob, the Links foreman, told me that Tommy Keddy was about to arrive with a couple of hurdlers, which proved to be correct informtion. Tommy, predictably, was as helpful as Michael Bell had been on the previous occasion and was very happy for Lady Suffragette to come up the line of hurdles behind his two horses (an older horse ridden by his wife Hayley and a young one ridden by Ken Clutterbuck's conditional). He's repeating his horses' exercise on Saturday and said our filly would be very welcome to join them again, but she was so good today that Tom and I are very happy for her to go to Plumpton as she is. She is a good and safe jumper, but she did just need to become more fluent, and the confidence she got by following the others today looked have completed her education nicely. Fingers crossed.

We had a similarly encourageing exercise yesterday, when Tom Rossiter, accompanied by his niece Ruth and her husband Chris, came to watch Mattie Stokes gallop. Mattie is such a dope and is basically happy to treat gallops as if they are canters, but he is gradually becoming more focussed on his work, and each time he gallops he goes a little bit better. Yesterday was his best effort yet, and I was very proud with the display he put on. Brief Goodbye accompanied him, with David riding Brief for Mattie's benefit, and pleasingly it looked as if towards the end David, while he wasn't pushing Brief at all, wasn't actually having to hold him back for Mattie to be able to stay with him. We had an unknown workmate, as Brian McMath had asked me if we had any gallops into which he could put an unraced three-year-old. I had told him that he'd be very welcome to have his horse gallop with this pair, but warned him that, as we'd be going the pace of a green and unraced bumper horse, it wouldn't be a taxing gallop for anything of any ability - but that his horse would be very welcome to go on past us and leave us behind in the latter stages if that suited him. As most of the horses which Brian trains are very moderate, I wasn't expecting too sparkling a performance from his colt, so was reasonably impressed when the horse powered past me after about five of the eight furlongs. However, it didn't go far clear and only finished two or three lengths ahead of us, albeit under minimal pressure, which means a lot less pressure than I'd put on Mattie. Even allowing for the promising way in which Brian's horse galloped, I was still rather taken aback by the punch-line, which came afterwards when Brian mentioned that the horse is entered in the Derby; that certainly wasn't what I was expecting to hear! I think a bumper at Towcester (March 29th has been pencilled in) will be more Mattie's cup of tea.

What was also rather nice about that exercise was that Martha and Hugh had preceded us up the gallop on By Storm and Belle Annie respectively. Emma had gone up to the Heath with Tom, Ruth and Chris, and she took some nice photographs of these two horses doing their work. Both looked to be carrying themselves well, and Martha looked extremely polished on By Storm, which isn't easy as By Storm is such a little thing that it's hard not to look cumbersome on her. Her riding is coming on so well, and there's a really good feeling in the stable just now because I think we have a really good team working here.

If Hugh's name is unfamiliar to you, you could check out his entry on the staff biography section. He started here this week, having been out of racing for a while, and I'm delighted to have him here. He hadn't ridden a horse for two or three years prior to Monday, but you certainly wouldn't guess that from the way he's riding. Of our recently departed colleague James we have no news, which isn't surprising as he's still in Thailand. No doubt when (if) he returns to the UK, there will be some tales to tell (how editted they will be will depend on the identity of the listener). I'm just concerned that we might find him traumatized by a life-changeing encounter with a lady-boy. What will also traumatize him will be when he hears the bombshell of a girl called Ali who has been riding out here some mornings. I think Ali started riding out the last week James worked here, so she must have ridden out with him two or three times; anyway, the following week Gemma and I were talking about James, and Ali couldn't remember him. Unbelievable! As he is the suavest ladies' man that I know (with the exceptions of Gerry Chesneux and Richard Sims), I'm sure he'll be as stunned as we were to hear how small an impression he'd evidently made on her - and that's even leaving aside the fact that James is, like Richard, someone that, once met, one doesn't forget, irrespective of one's gender.

Anyway, enough of my ramblings. I must just add one important point (to the very few people who will have ploughed their way this far), which is that I've been really touched by all the good wishes which Emma and I have received before, during and after Sunday's happy event. So many people have expressed genuine pleasure at our happiness and have wished us well, and I've found that very moving. It has been very much appreciated.