Welcome guests

We've been having real sunshine and showers. That's fine really, because it'll make the grass grow and, while the showers aren't very nice, there's warmth in the sun while it is out. And the real bonus is that the rain has been timing itself satisfactorily, because we've had Stewart and Barbara Leadley-Brown staying for one night and, mixed in with some heavy downpours, we had a perfect sunny evening yesterday and a glorious start to today. Stewart is very familiar with Newmarket, albeit not so familiar with its more recent changes having only enjoyed two brief visits to the town since emigrating to the States in 1979, but this was Barbara's first time here, so it was particularly good that we were able to show her the town and the Heath in its full glory. After sheltering from the rain in the early afternoon yesterday, we ventured outside just before 4pm, started with an inspection of the horses here before packing ourselves in the car for the tour - and found it was nearly four hours later that we rolled back into the yard at dusk. It's good having visitors, because the danger is that we can take our beautiful and very special surroundings for granted, but having visitors gives one the incentive to take the time to savour them. Warm sunny spring days are about as good as it gets for seeing the countryside, and everything looked superb yesterday. We were in and out of the car like yo-yos, alighting every few minutes to stroll along the Devil's Dyke, let ourselves into the racecourses to nose around the buildings and inspect the two tracks, walk over various stretches of Heath or admire various views. And then this morning Emma took Stewart and Barbara up to Side Hill to watch Aisling cantering Lady Suffragette around the all-weather in company with Imperial Decree, Brief Goodbye and Polychrome, before Barbara took Lady S on her second ride of the morning, enjoying a walk and trot around the Heath with Anis Etoile and I relishing our roles as tour guides. Even though the rain duly arrived later in the morning, the crucial part of the day was lovely, and if our guests have enjoyed their visit as much as I have, they'll have had a lovely time.

The rain also held off for Great Leighs' opening day on Sunday, which was a pleasure to attend, especially after having been lucky enough to have a gallop around the track on trials' day aboard Brief. Anyone who read the Racing Post's coverage of the fixture will have gathered that, the unfinishedness of much of the public facilities notwithstanding, everyone has given Britain's newest course a big thumbs-up, and there's not much more that I need to add to that. John Holmes has invested everything he has into making a success of this project and, while he'll obviously benefit if and when things work out, so will the rest of us benefit too, even though we've invested nothing in its creation, so it behoves us all to wish him every success in his venture and to salute and thank him for his efforts.

One other thing that has been nice has been the dialogue in the comments section of this blog. I didn't realise what a good catalyst for reminiscence Frank Morby's name would prove to be. I have it in my head that he ended up in somewhere like Kenya, but I could be wrong. I'm pretty sure I remember watching him ride a winner for Lord Howard, trained by Peter Walwyn, at Ayr in probably 1977 on what would have been one of my first visits to a Flat race-meeting (my earlier days out would have been to Kelso); I'd probably have been able to confirm (or contradict) this memory via Lord Howard's scrap-books. I particularly enjoyed the train of recollection which took us to Stockbridge, a town whose racing history has always seemed rather magical to me, not least because the town itself, leaving aside its racing links, is such a special, unspoiled place. The stories which I'd previously heard of Vernon Cross' stable had come from Fred McKenna - I know that he's called Frank, but he'd come for some reason to be known as Fred by the time I knew him, which was when he was working as travelling head lad for Peter Bailey in the yard in which Seamus Mullins now trains near Amesbury - and I used to enjoy picking his brains for his tales, not least concerning his Triumph Hurdle-winning mount Royal Epic. So please keep the recollections coming. Does Ken Cunningham-Brown train somewhere around there? Is he in a historically famous yard?