Weather-watch (again)

I'm on weather-watch (again).  Not only to try to work out what conditions are likely to prevail on the Rowley Mile for the 2,000 Guineas on Saturday and the 1,000 Guineas on Sunday (lovely ground, I'd imagine, something which one will probably be able to describe as "good fast ground with no jar") but also to try to work out what will greet us when we get to Chepstow tomorrow, where Zarosa runs in the last race at 5.35.  I'm very pleased that we decided not to run her at Nottingham two days ago, because tomorrow's race is an easier option (and I'm saying that over and above the obvious fact that tomorrow's race features lesser horses, which is something which goes without saying bearing in mind that tomorrow she'll carry top weight, whereas at Nottingham she would have carried bottom weight) and the ground will be less firm irrespective of whether they have or haven't had much rain today.

We've had a fair bit of rain here today by our own recent standards, but that's not necessarily saying a lot.  It was a fairly nice morning here (as you can seen) with just the odd light shower; and then we had light rain in the early afternoon; and then some more light rain this evening.  I'd guess that we might have had 4mm or so today, which isn't a great deal, but should just be enough to ensure that the track isn't too firm on the Rowley Mile for the weekend.

And we'll see what we find at Chepstow - but in one sense that's less important than it might be because, while Zarosa loves very soft ground, so does the mare whom I regard as her principal rival: Slipper Satin, who won over hurdles on very heavy ground at Fakenham over the winter.  So how very soft it gets is almost academic - and I'm sure that, whatever happens, there will be some cut in the ground, which will be fine.  We have, after all, had enough visits to Chepstow to know that, if Albert Hammond were ever to write a song about someone who heads to that part of the world in a vain foray to find fame and fortune in the movies, he'd be very hard pressed to justify calling it, 'It never rains in southern Wales'.