Doctor Jekyll and Mozie Hyde

I predicted that we would end the run-in to Christmas with either a roar or a whimper, and I'm afraid that it's turned out to be the latter. Kempton on Friday started well with Millyjean running a very satisfactory and promising fourth, but then ended on a flat note when racing was abandoned after only four races because of the thickening fog, which meant that Timmy had had a fruitless journey down there. Still, at least we had some encouragement to take for the trip, and at least the trip had been surprisingly straightforward: confirming that traffic really is a law unto itself, we found that the journeys to and from Kempton were very smooth with far fewer hold-ups than one would expect to occur on any normal Friday, let alone the Friday before Christmas, in thick fog to boot. Bizarre.

Saturday's trip to Wolverhampton was more frustrating. I'd remarked beforehand that Mozie Cat felt on such good terms with herself that I thought she'd either win or refuse to go into the stalls. Well, I nearly got it right, because unfortunately it proved that we'd left the obliging Mozie Cat at home, and her cantankerous alter ego turned up. She only went into the stalls by the skin of her teeth, thanks to efforts beyond the call of duty by the stalls handlers and by Brett Doyle, whom she threw off during the initial unsuccessful attempt to load her. The starter very kindly gave her much more leeway than she deserved and, after I'd run down to the start when I saw that the attempt to load her first had been a complete failure, everyone concerned excelled themselves in forcing her into her gate - and I think that my very familiar (to her) voice roaring at her from behind was probably also a factor in her laboured progress. As it happened, everyone's efforts weren't rewarded, because she was almost as unenthusiastic during the race as she was before it, never picking her bridle up at any stage on the way to finishing tailed off. Thank God she has won a race, because on that performance it is hard to see her winning another. She is quirky, which we already knew, and she'd showed herself very reluctant to be installed on all previous occasions, but this was dreadful, and it was a real disappointment that she wouldn't go during the race itself. The funny thing was that, for the first time, she was easy to load onto the lorry to come home: on the two previous occasions we had run her, it had taken at least an exhausting half-hour to get her on board, and that was after she had raced willingly and properly, whereas this time she hesitated on the loading ramp for no more than ten seconds. So strange - but then we did know that in advance. Perhaps I should have given her longer between races, but really it's hard to excuse such behaviour from a horse who is in great shape physically, completely sound and full of self-confidence. As we've observed previously, they're only human. Whether she will race again I don't yet know - as she's a well-bred winner about to turn four and the breeding season will shortly be upon us, there's an argument to say that it might be wise to quit while we're ahead - but if she does she will obviously first have to pass a stalls test, and I'm not quite sure how one would prepare her for that, because she just walks straight into the stalls on the Heath, and only shows her temperament on the racecourse. We'll see.

On a brighter note, it was good to see Dean McKeown at Wolverhampton yesterday. One of the jockeys I most admire, typically he isn't resting on his Hong Kong laurels. He rode an unraced two-year-old filly by Mind Games for Brian Baugh in the first yesterday, and pushed her all the way before finishing several seconds behind the second last horse, which is quite something in a six furlong race. After outwitting Mick Kinane to win the HK Vase on lovely Collier Hill, that's definitely going from the sublime to the considerably less sublime. Much as I complain how lazy and overpaid most jockeys are, there are plenty of them that one has to respect. As I mentioned above, Brett was very good, and completely uncomplaining, yesterday in being so tolerant of Mozie's mulishness, and Jimmy Quinn, who was in the adjacent stall, too went well beyond the call of duty in helping the team to get her into the gate. Less admirable were the on-course bookies who cut her from 7/1 to 7/2 in the final minute when it looked as if she was unlikely to enter the stalls: I can't believe that any of them took a bet for her in that time, because it had become clear that she was in a thoroughly unco-operative and unwilling mood, but of course if she was scratched, which appeared a certainty, the deductions which they would be entitled to take out of winning bets would be considerably larger if she was scratched as a 7/2 chance than as a 7/1 chance. The Racing Post is quick to pick up on bookies' attempts to shaft the punter, so it will be interesting to see if they notice that one. I doubt they will - they'll probably be too busy preparing yet another unreadable double-page spread telling us everything we already know about Paul Nicholls in advance of Kauto Star's lap of honour at Kempton on Tuesday. (OK Problemwalrus, so he could fall, which would leave the way open to Monet's Garden and the excellent Tony Dobbin).

One other Wolverhampton vignette to spice up Christmas Eve - another of my heroes, Terry Lucas, was the star of our previous visit to Wolverhampton, the one on which the correct Mozie Cat turned up. Tim and I (and Alice) were sitting in the lorry before racing when a beat-up-looking truck shot round the corner in front of us and stopped abruptly in the lorry park. It was really odd to see: like one of those TV ads where the film is speeded up so that the car just shoots round a corner and straight into its parking space at a completely unfeasible speed. Tim chuckled and said that that would be Terry Lucas arriving. My reply (as they were past the loading ramp, and I'd been engrossed in my book and not noticing what was going on) was how lucky it was that they'd already unloaded the horses, but even so it was still quite some manoeuvre in an empty wagon - at which point (as Tim already knew was about to happen) Terry jumped out of the lorry, lowered the ramp and a couple of horses emerged! It was so funny. And, of course, the perfect punch line was that one of the horses won! Afterwards Terry was shaking his head in bemusement: "Paul Mulrennan told me that horse is useless, and he's just gone and won by seven lengths!". (In defence of Mulrennan's pre-race assessment, there were four fallers in the race, so perhaps the horse was flattered by the result - or maybe we should just give him the plaudits for winning on a very moderate horse). The final word went to Tim at the end of the afternoon when we finally had forced Mozie Cat onto the lorry for the journey home: "You could understand her being so reluctant to load if Terry Lucas had driven her here!".