Winter wonderland

I'm aware that my photographic momentum has stalled, but I was kicking myself that I didn't have the camera in one of the many pockets on the several layers of clothing that swathed me as I watched the dawn break on Bilkie this morning. It was sensational. I don't think it would be fair to say that I have treated my lovely Christmas present as the spoilt kid does with his latest craze, as it's still very much on the go, but the first stalling of the momentum came when I broke it (I didn't really - it just exhibited a temporary malfunction which Emma was able to sort out, once I'd scrutinized the colossal instruction manual and declared it unfixable), and now I've rather driven myself into a cul-de-sac with it, because I still haven't mastered the skill of downloading its pictures. But as Gemma (on Millyjean) and I rode up past the cricket pitch at the top of Hamilton Road, her first words were "I hope you've got your camera with you - and you're on a horse quiet enough to stand while you line up your shots". Sure enough, we crossed the Cambridge Road and the view across the railway line to Woodditton hill was divine. The very hard frost on the fields, hedges and trees, the white, the mist, the grey, the glow as the sun approached the horizon, the pink and the gold, and even the veiled but brilliant blue if one looked directly overhead. It was probably just as well I didn't have the camera, because it's only little and double-thickness gloves, allied to my innate clumsiness, probably would have seen me properly break it this time by dropping it - and Bilkie would then have been a moral to tread on it - but it was just such a lovely way to start the day. By the time we'd come back across the Cambridge Road to get back on the Heath and had walked down next to the Devil's Dyke to turn round to start galloping on the frost-free polytrack - Millyjean from the 3-furlong pole, Bilkie from the start - the sun had poked above the horizon, and we turned into a sky on fire. But I definitely wouldn't have been wise to try to take a photo at the gallop. Not in gloves, anyway. (By the way, for some really good photos, it's worth going on to Emma's page on this site and clicking on to Jeremy Early's website link. He's a wonderful photographer - and that's only his hobby, as he's equally creative with his pen, as some of Timeform's finest essays prove - who really captures the beauty of the natural world that he so obviously loves, and quarter of an hour perusing his site is time very well spent).

Anyway, the upshot of the gallops was that I haven't entered Millyjean for Southwell next Tuesday. Gemma said she lacked her usual zest. I don't think there's anything wrong with her, although I wouldn't rule that out. She actually came home remarkably unstressed for a horse who normally puts her whole soul into a gallop, and my guess is that she didn't relish the unusually deep surface: because of the extremely hard frost (-6), the gallop had been harrowed very deeply before dawn, which was a good effort by the Heathmen, so it was, in addition to being frost-free, very deep. If she didn't like that, which I suspect, there would be no point in running her at Southwell - and if I'm wrong and she actually is ailing for something, she wouldn't want to be running next week anyway. There is a fillies' race at Lingfield 20 days from now, and she can wait for that.

I wouldn't rule out sickness, because we have had some horses under the weather, as mentioned in previous postings, but happily we seem to be coming out of the woods in that respect. Like Mark Johnston, I don't believe in "the virus", this mystery ailment whose only apparent symptom is the horse running badly. Mark describes it well as "poor performance syndrome". I definitely do believe in equine illness, but I feel that illnesses usually have symptoms, and the few horses we've had ill have had definite symptoms: coughing, dirty noses, elevated temperatures, loss of appetite. I'm pleased to say that only two remain on the sick list, with Belle Annie having returned to the ranks of the healthy. And the only two yet to regain full health are nearly there, with appetites and temperatures back to normal. It's actually worked out quite well, as it's taken a bit of pressure of us at what is normally a very busy time, as it enabled us to give the horses in work very long exercises (not Mark Johnston's supposed 2-hour lots admittedly, although covering the ground we cover would take most strings two hours, because we trot everywhere we can, rather than AMBLE EXTREMELY SLOWLY, which inexplicably is the preferred style of most Newmarket conditioners, if describing someone who lets a horse amble extremely slowly as a 'conditioner' isn't too much a contradiction in terms) which is perfect at this time of year when the horses need to get the slow miles into their legs, both to build them up and to keep on top of them at a time when freshness can be a problem. And, as I've said on a previous posting, I'm always quite happy to see horses sick at this time of year, because I believe it builds up a few antibodies which will come in handy when we need them to be healthy during the summer.

It's hard to be down-hearted on such a lovely day as today - bitterly cold, the frost hasn't even begun to move in areas which the sun hasn't reached, but gloriously sunny - but one slight cloud on the horizon is some bad news which I heard yesterday, that Jack Banks has had a stroke. Fortunately, as strokes go it wasn't a bad one, but there's no such thing as a good stroke, and apparently it's knocked him about a bit. Colin Casey told me yesterday that Stuart Jackson had told him, and that Stuart has been spending a lot of time with Jack since it happened (about a month ago, I think) and being typically a big help to him. Coincidentally I saw Stuart riding out today, for the first time for months: I don't see Geoff Huffer's string that often, and I think Stuart only rides out rarely nowadays. So Stuart was able to fill me in, and promised to give Jack my best when he sees him this evening. I know that anyone reading this who knows Jack will be saddened to hear of his bad luck, as you'd struggle to find a more respected horseman or a more decent man. Funnily enough, I'd been thinking about Jack on and off since our holiday to Australia in November, without seeing him, as our visit to Anne Taylor's stable at Benalla had featured several references to one of the best horse she's trained, Rose Of Mooncoin (named after Mooncoin, a place in Ireland whence her family hails). Of course this brought the other Rose Of Mooncoin to my mind, quite a good Brief Truce (I think) filly which Jack used to train. He must still be involved with her in retirement, because last year Neville Callaghan trained quite a nice three-year-old colt called Louie Louie, by King Charlemagne (he must be one of King Charlemagne's best horses, which isn't saying a great deal) ex Rose Of Mooncoin, who is raced by "Jack Banks Racing'. Let's hope Jack is able to enjoy her offspring for many years to come.

The previous paragraph seems to feature several coincidences, and another remarkable one came up today. I've started my own Herculean labour today of cleaning out my own personal Augean stable, in this case my 'office'. (You might be able to guess that the idea of my job didn't spring initially from me). The re-cycling industry won't know what's hit it. But actually there won't be nearly as much paper to be re-cycled as the originator of this plan had in mind, because the reason for a lot of the junk being kept in the first place is that I want to keep it. As I was sorting through the a small part of the paper accumulation of my life this arvo, a torn and yellowed page from the Melbourne Age, Tuesday 11th March 1997, came to hand. The main headline was 'Octagonal defies the odds', while the lesser headline was 'Mishaps to two greats sour grand occasion'. As mentioned in the previous posting, Lawrence's horse Blimey O'Reilly won the Waikato Guineas in New Zealand on Saturday. Prompted in part by this, I used one of my occasional anonymous 'grey panel' slots on thoroughbredinternet to write a Last Tycoon appreciation, which was largely a (his son) O'Reilly appreciation. I alerted Lawrence to this piece, as I thought he'd like to read it, and ditto Joff. So today I received an email from Joff saying that it had been love at first sight for him when he saw O'Reilly, and that he'd been sure he'd become a good stallion. I was slightly surprised by this, because I couldn't remember O'Reilly racing in Australia, and when I'd looked up his stud credentials only form in New Zealand appeared to be shown. And then this afternoon I chanced upon this long-buried cutting. The two mishaps at Flemington on Australian Cup Day 1997 were Doriemus suffering a bleeding attack behind Octagonal, and O'Reilly breaking down in the Newmarket Handicap. So there it was. He was champion three-year-old sprinter in NZ, they'd brought him to Melbourne for the Newmarket, for which he started 11/4 favourite, and he broke down in the race and was pulled up 400m from home. And there's a photo to prove it, Lance O'Sullivan leading him off the track above the caption 'Lance O'Sullivan inspects his mount, the NZ star O'Reilly, after the colt broke down yesterday'. Very sad - but, as we now know, a story with a very happy ending. This, as you can guess, is one of the many bits of paper which I haven't thrown away today.

Never mind, I'll have plenty of further opportunities to throw stuff away over the next few days as the forecasters tell us we'll be snowed in in the morning. Great! I love it. We'll have the Heath to ourselves, and we won't have to hear any more about global warming for a week or two.