Three ageless horsemen of the antipodes

We always like to tell ourselves that, even though the Craven Meeting is usually run in wintry conditions, summer has generally arrived by the time of the Guineas. And I'm confident that three days hence all will be rosy, even though we've now had just about 24 hours of heavy rain and the temperature has fallen markedly. We now have gallons of standing water in the stable and the field, but it'll be alright on the weekend, I'm sure. Tomorrow at Folkestone could be another matter, though, and wet ground will be a further complicating factor in the chances of three unseasoned horses - but, whatever the conditions, it will just be nice to get our campaign up and sort of running.

During a pretty bleak morning on the Heath - although a break in the rain meant that it was more or less dry for my two lots, although poor Hugh and Martha got soaked later on - one ray of sunshine was seeing Tony Culhane back in the saddle, riding out for William Haggas. As regards his disciplinary hiccups, Tony has only had himself to blame, but his succession of bad injuries in recent years really has been very unfortunate, particularly the accident in the middle of last year when, through no fault of his own, his mount swerved through the rails at Wolverhampton to put him on the sidelines from which, I presume, he soon to resume. As well as being a first-rate jockey, he's a really likeable man, so I was genuinely pleased to see him back in action and wish him the best of fortune for his return to competitive action.

From one good jockey to another even more admirable, word reaches me from Down Under that 'Nifty' Neville Wilson, the king of Victoria's Western District for as long as most people can remember, rode the winner of the Wangoom Handicap at Warrnambool today. The best race in the Western District and the Flat highlight of the Warrnambool Carnival, this prestigious sprint had, amazingly, never been won by the 61-year-old legend, who will no doubt milk his herd of dairy cows tomorrow morning with an extra spring in his step before heading off to the races. By comparison, the jockey of the day in New South Wales is a mere youngster, the excellent Robert Thompson having ridden his first Classic winner at the age of 49 when partnering Heavenly Glow to victory in today's AJC Oaks at Randwick. The victory puts him on the 3293 winner mark, only 29 behind the all-time Australian record set by the late Jack Thompson, and it was lovely to pick up his enthusiasm in the internet press reports as he described the success as "by far the best win of my career": when a man who rode his first winner 35 years ago and who has ridden 3292 more since then can say that, you know it was a magic moment. Good on 'im.

And now from two ageless Australian horsemen to a third, I'm pleased to report that Richard Sims, whom some of you may know, was among the crowd at Warrnambool today. Richard has apparently been the subject of some discussion among his Winning Post colleagues recently, as I discovered when I found myself (unintentionally, I'm sure) on the recipients' list of an email about Richard, sent by Winning Post's editor Tony Kneebone to its compositor, John Barker. Richard has evidently caused some head-scratching, as Tony's words make clear: "Richard, MY Richard, OUR Richard? - What has he done? This talk of ads, Greeks, brahmas, Father Joe, me, Doxa Lodge, me again - how could Richard be anything except what WE have made him: a directionless Australian middle-class revolutionary, a permanent dissident, a dabbler, a dreamer, a habitual rejector; a ruthless, shiftless, philandering, wasted semi-creative failure, too clever not to demolish an argument, too mulish to settle for a flawed one?" This paints a rather disturbing picture of the man, don't you think? But doesn't it also illustrate Tony's superb use of our language? Change the odd word and you could find yourself with a passage of the beautiful prose of John Le Carre, another of whose excellent novels I am currently enjoying as a change of tack after ripping through another tremendous read, 'Iron Rose' by Peter Temple.

And lastly, to try to bring this chapter back (back?) to something to approaching normality, word has reached me today that Justin Wadham, husband of Lucy, is standing for election to the ROA Council. Not that my opinion will be of interest to many, but it is that he would be the perfect candidate for such a position and, if anyone were to ask my opinion about how to cast his vote, my suggestion would be to vote for Justin.