(Some) debacles avoided

The week just ended started on a very sad note, as detailed in the previous blog, and that has inevitably cast a shadow over life. However, as far as the stable has gone, it's been a fairly straightforward and satisfactory week. I've even won something, which was really nice. Not a race, admittedly, but I'll soon have a book on the way courtesy of the Racing Post, having unexpectedly found that my nominating letter for the paper's Greatest Ride Ever compilation has been a prize-winning one. Like most of the few winners we send out from here, that was a very pleasant surprise. The odds-on shot got home with Fred Winter's heroic effort on the bridle-less Mandarin in the 1962 Grand Steeplechase de Paris being acclaimed the greatest feat of race-riding horsemanship ever, but a long-shot sneaked into the frame with my nomination of Vince "Smudger" Smith for his effort in the 1994 Pagham Selling Hurdle at Fontwell Park winning a 'highly commended'. A letter which begins with the paragraph "Seeing Vince Smith now, as a successful and portly trainer," (makes him sound like Paul Nicholls! - or Barry Baldwin) "it is easy to forget that he was once relatively slim and a jockey. In fact, even when he was a jockey it was easy to forget he was a jockey, because he never used to get many rides." isn't an obvious candidate to catch the eye, but there you are. And, as I said at the time, GOOD OLD SMUDGER!

We've made good use of Southfields grass this week, which has been pleasing because it's a great place to exercise horses. They've got to be reasonably well into their preparations to be going around the 14-furlong (approx) circuit, but when they're ready for it it's a great place to work them. We've had a couple of guest riders to take Mattie Stokes around there (Kirsty Milczarek midweek, when his owner Tom Rossiter came to watch him, and Ollie Marsh today) but the true brahma was when Martha (on Glen Garioch) and I (on Belle Annie) went round there yesterday. As I've said, we're making good use of it, but yesterday I discovered that Luca Cumani is making considerably greater use of it. Basically, Southfields is a big flat field, behind the Rowley Mile grandstand, of at least 500 acres. There are two straight parallel canters of somewhere between 1800 and 2000m, one heading away from home and one coming back. One can either canter all the way down to the end, by the rubbing house, and walk across the hundred yards or so to the start of the strip of ground heading for home, or one can canter two thirds of the way down and go round a 180 degree bend marked out on the grass to take one back onto the strip heading for home. Using that method, one has effectively a long U-shaped canter of around a mile and three-quarters. There is also a bend at the home end marked out, which I had thought was used by a horse once every few years, so that after completing one lap one can set out on a second (or third ...) if one is training a horse for a marathon. Occasionally one sees a long-distance steeple-chaser setting out onto a second round, but you wouldn't bank on seeing this every year.

Yesterday Martha and I arrived on Southfields at around ten on a beautiful morning, and there were horses everywhere. I'd never seen so many horses on Southfields at one time: Luca Cumani had a string of three-year-olds cantering around the circuit (pictured here leaving Southfields after cantering for several miles), an army of them spaced out at intervals of about 50m. It was very impressive. "Bloody hell", I said, " this is busy - but if we trot down to the start, we'll be jumping off just as his horses are coming off, so we'll be out of their way, and they'll be gone by the time we get back to the end in a few minutes". As Martha and I jumped off, I was looking over my right shoulder towards Glen, to make sure Martha was kicking forward to jump off nice and briskly so that our pair of inexperienced horses got off to a nice motivated and organised start, which isn't always easy on a youngster on a canter whose start is confusingly pointing into the middle of nowhere and directly away from home. Anyway, both horses jumped off in a nice collected and brisk manner, and after about fifty yards I looked forward to concentrate on the way ahead - F**K!!! - I couldn't believe what I was seeing, as Luca's squadron were rounding the clubhouse turn and setting off on an unheard-of second circuit, and we were on a collision course to land smack in the middle of the vanguard, about 100 yards ahead. Any other trainer and I'd have just said "Bugger 'em!", but I retain too much respect for Luca to ram his string; but obviously the last thing I wanted to do, having got these two young horses into the habit of jumping off in a nicely forward-going manner, was to pull up. There was only one (not really allowed) option, and that was to make use of the fact that the field is really big, so I shouted to Martha "Follow me" and swung off to the right so we cantered off parallel to Luca's horses, but 200 yards or so from them and out of harm's way. We went right down to the bottom, pulled up and walked across to the start of the homeward strip and then had a lovely canter home, and found Luca's horses gone by the time we got to the end. It turned out to be a lovely ride, because our two mounts settled into cruise control and came back at a nice strong canter like two old pros, but it could so easily have been a complete debacle. Emma and Steve McCormick had gone out to watch and Emma took some nice photos (two of which have found their way onto the horse biography section), and they enjoyed observing the chaos. Emma's final observation was that when she took a few shots of Luca's steaming horses eventually walking off the Heath, she couldn't tell who were more tired, the horses or the riders.

I then ended the morning with another example of order being snatched from the jaws of chaos. Quite by chance, I'd seen the claiming jumps jockey Tom Greenway, who actually lives in Cheshire and works for Richard Ford up there, riding out for Paul D'Arcy mid-morning; so I called him - I still had his number on my phone from when he'd ridden Ngauruhoe at Market Rasen last winter - and asked him if he'd be free at the end of the morning, and he agreed to meet me at the Links at 11.45 to jump Lady Suffragette over some hurdes. I'd actually jumped her over a few logs the previous day when I'd taken her up there to gallop, but basically, although she can jump (as her photo in the biography section shows) she hadn't jumped a hurdle since Matthew Smith (who is still injured) had schooled her last summer. And she can be a dunce at times. I assured Tom that she knew what to do and wouldn't need a lead - but she was terrible. He got her to clamber over the line of three hurdles, but it wasn't a very inspiring sight. She really needed a lead! And then our saviour appeared. Out of nowhere, Michael and Georgina Bell, with their excellent son Nick, appeared, and pointed to two horses which I hadn't even noticed cantering in the distance. "Would you like a lead for your horse?" he asked. Would I? This was a life-saver.

Their daughter Amy, along with Georgina's brother Andrew Lillingston (pictured), who was visiting for the weekend, had brought his two hunters up to have some fun jumping a few hurdles. What was the chance of that? And Michael was so kind, immediately offering help as soon as he saw that it would be useful. So Lady Suffragette went up the line of six hurdles twice behind her excellent pair of volunteer lead-horses, and a complete debacle of a schooling session turned into most successful exercise. Many thanks to Michael, Amy and Andrew, and also to Tom Greenway for riding her so nicely and at such short notice. He says he'll be in town again before too long and can school her again before riding her on her jumps debut, which is pencilled in to be at Plumpton the day before Cheltenham. (Mention of Ngauruhoe above prompts the memory of her and Matthew Smith finishing a very creditable third at Towcester last Easter Day behind Heathcote, which is looking pretty good form now after Heathcote's win in the Tote Gold Trophy at Newbury eight days ago. Ah well.).

There was a sad chapter to the story of yesterday's excursion to the Links, as I had to ride past a dead pony on the way up there. The Thurlow Hunt met in Tattersalls yesterday morning, and apparently as the field moved away from town on the section of land adjacent to the Cambridge Road approaching the Links a big horse kicked a pony in a completely freak accident, shattering the pony's leg so severely the vet was summoned to put it down straightaway. The poor pony, and the poor girl who was on him. It was just such a terribly sad thing to happen on what should have been a very happy occasion. However seasoned one is to the tragedies which can befall animals, the death of a loved horse or pony is invariably a horrible and shocking event, so this poor young girl must have been just so upset. It seems to be the story of life: even when things are running smoothly, sadness is never far away.

So that, unfortunately, cast a cloud over what was otherwise a pleasant and satisfactory morning. Bilkie is due to run on Tuesday, which I'm really looking forward to as he's such a dear horse and he hasn't run for ages, and I gave him his final gallop along the Cambridge Road all-weather first lot yesterday. As I was walking away from the gallop, some of Marco Botti's horses were circling on the Heath for a post-work debriefing, and Robert Acton and Gary Coffey (former and current managers of Newsells Park Stud, which has horses with Marco this year) appeared. Bilkie is a Newsells Park protege (not that they advertise that), so it was rather nice as I greeted them to alert them to my mount's identity. They're both very nice men and, while Bilkie certainly won't feature in any history of the stud, they were kind enough to show interest in his continued welfare (probably a better term than 'progress'). His lack of achievement notwithstanding, he's a grand horse. Let's hope he runs a nice race on Tuesday - but don't hold your breath!

Time to head outside and fetch the horses in from the field before it gets dark. After a relatively pleasant few days, the yard isn't too wet just now, but the field is still hock-deep. But the horses still love it - all the more so for the fact that they're only getting out for occasional treats while it's so muddy, rather than their normal daily sessions. I'll get this blog up, and we'll see if any accompanying photographs appear. (I still can't put them up). Emma and I had a pleasant hour or two in the Grosvenor Yard pub the other night to bid farewell to Aaron Bott, who has been at Darley for a few months selling nominations on secondment from Darley Australia. Aaron has been a big asset to the area, as he's a really nice guy. I believe and hope he's enjoyed his stint in the UK, and he's wisely planning to spend a couple of weeks travelling around the major cities of Europe (and I think his girlfriend is coming over from Aus to do the tour with him) to complete his travels in the best possible manner. So I hope he'll take some happy memories home with him. I hope I'll bump into him again at some point on the journey through life. There's a photo on my camera of him and a couple of his colleagues taken in the pub the other night which may find its way up here. If it does, you'll see him with Mark Dwyer (Chris's son) and Francis Graffard, but you'll note that the usually omni-present Mark McStay was conspicuous by his absence. Apparently he was in Ireland that day, doing God knows what: there was some talk of an interview with Coolmore, but I doubt anything will come of that.