A lover, not a fighter

It's great that the Walrus has given us some of his Icons. I should be ashamed of myself for not having included one whom he mentioned: Adrian Maguire, one of my all-time favourite jockeys. We've got more good jumps racing to look forward to this weekend, weather permitting, with Kauto Star obviously being the most interesting contender. I'm also looking forward to watching Binocular, not least because he, too, is in my Twelve To Follow.

We couldn't keep up our season's 100% record today, as the record went down most emphatically when Take Me There ran no sort of race at Market Rasen. We'd been putting off and putting off running him on soft ground, but it had reached the stage where we had to run him sometime - if only to find out whether or not we really were right to be afraid of soft ground - and I guess that we now definitely have our answer. However, I'd say that the ground looked soft but no worse than that, so I hope that there was nothing more seriously amiss than the ground; no doubt we'll be better able to answer that doubt in a day or two.

I didn't go up to Market Rasen today as we had a meeting of the Newmarket Trainers' Federation this afternoon. Obviously attendance at these gatherings is not compulsory - in fact, there would never be as much as a 50% turn-out - but I do like to go if at all possible. This was one I was particularly keen to attend, because the topic under discussion was the NmktTF's position on the proposed Hatchfield Farm development (which a previous chapter will have made clear is something to which I am very, very strongly opposed) - well, not its position exactly, because its position is clear (strongly opposed), but its response. Basically, as any further expansion of the town, and which would inevitably lead to further intensifications of its already-extreme traffic congestion, is so clearly at odds with the town's future as a major training centre (if there is any doubt about that, see how Epsom, where the Downs, like the Heath, still exist unmolested as a great place to work horses, has declined as it has been suburbanized) that this is something about which the Newmarket Trainers' Federation and Jockey Club Estates Ltd, whose primary aim should also be to promote the long-term health of Newmarket as a training centre, need to ensure that they are in tandem. And I am sure that that will be the case.

I did go to Kempton last night, though. Filemot ran a better race and I think that it's now not unreasonable to anticipate her winning something within the next few weeks. Which is a remark we can now also make about To Be Or Not To Be (left), following her run at Wolverhampton on Saturday. The trip to Kempton was painless enough, even if the whole Kempton experience, particularly at night and during the winter, isn't really a case of seeing racing in its full glory. What was lovely, though, was the fact that Geoff Wragg trained the winner of our race with what is intended to be his second last runner. He and Trish were both there and were all smiles afterwards, particularly as the winner is owned by their long-standing patron and friend Daphne Lilley. It was great that Geoff should have had a winner in his final week as a trainer, even if a 5-year-old mare winning a 46-55 handicap on the all-weather, four hours after nightfall in winter, doesn't really typify his distinguished training career. But, as the late, great Arthur Stephenson (another Icon) used to say, "Little fish are sweet" - as Kadouchski certainly proved to my satisfaction on Monday!

I left Kempton with a wry smile on my face as a little incident towards the end of the evening pretty much summed the underwhelmingness of the show. Earlier in the evening, Robin Trevor-Jones, travelling head lad for Ed Dunlop, had found it rather funny to find me in the canteen reading a book as I sipped a cup of tea, suggesting that I ought to have been outside paying more attention to the racing. I didn't feel that I needed to point out that there was a television in front of where I was sitting and that, as well as reading a novel, I was also paying attention to what was happening and was perfectly placed to watch the races - but even so, I suppose he did have a point. Anyway, we were in the sixth of the seven races, so I did shortly afterwards begin to play an active role in proceedings, which ended roughly five minutes before the last race as we and Filemot wound down after her race. As I wanted to watch the last race, I thought that, rather than return from the stables to the enclosures, I'd head back to the canteen and watch it on television, just as I'd watched the earlier races. No such luck - the last race wasn't being shown in the canteen because the foopball had started, and that, naturally, seemed to take precedence. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear", I could only muse as I strode back out again and took up a solitary position next to the running rail to watch the last!

What, I'm told, is also rather underwhelming is the new James Bond film. I haven't seen it, but Emma has and her review has put me off going to watch it, which is what I was planning to do this evening while she is elsewhere. I don't know if others have noticed the similarity, but it always strikes me that the new James Bond, Daniel Craig, bears a close resemblance to Gerry Chesneaux (left), the well-known bookie. Anyway, I'm told that this movie has rather moved away from the time-honoured Bond formula which we know and love (and even the Newmarket Journal film review confirms this) and instead basically just has Gerry fighting more or less non-stop for two hours. Oh yes, and apparently there is a 5-second seduction scene, which is understandable, as I wouldn't have thought Gerry would need any longer than that to work his charm. So, while it all sounds rather splendid, I might wait until it comes on television: Gerry's a lover, not a fighter, and I don't feel the need to drive over to Cambridge to be told otherwise.