We're spoilt for pictures now. Diligent explorers of this site will note that there are great new photos everywhere: my blog, photo gallery (really good new shots), latest news, and most recently some have arrived on Emma's blog. And I believe that we're going to have one on this chapter of my blog which will carry the superb (Emma's idea) caption 'Trotter and galloper'.This splendid partnership was one of the pairings we had on an excellent Saturday morning yesterday. Jamie Trotter looks like becoming a regular fixture on a Saturday, and he and Mattie Stokes make a great pair. Jamie had ridden Mattie two weeks ago and then yesterday partnered him on the same stretch of ground (a straight ten furlongs on Southfields) and confirmed my opinion that he's starting to get his act together. We'd had Gemma and her Racing School colleague Nicky in earlier, and then we had Suze, regular Saturday star, plus a very welcome guest appearance from Andrew McCarthy (below), who arrived with one of his compatriots, whose surname I stupidly can't remember, called Philip (nephew of Co. Carlow trainer Pat Hughes, who turned 64 yesterday, the Racing Post informed me). Andrew appeared here first about three years ago, produced by Mark McStay. He's a visitor I'm always pleased to see. I believe he and McStay were at college together. Andrew, who used to ride in point-to-points in Ireland when he was younger, initially planned to make a career in racing, and worked for Aidan O'Brien for a year, but then made the wise decision to earn his living in a less uncertain manner, and now lives and works in London. He was at Ballydoyle at the same time as Declan Daly, because I remember when Andrew was here previously one time Declan was supervising his horses on the Severals when we rode across them, and he and Andrew greeted each other as old friends; and Declan worked at Ballydoyle when Giant's Causeway was there. We hadn't seen Andrew for a couple of years, so I was delighted when he called me midweek to ask if he could come and ride out on Saturday. So he drove down from London to be here for 8.00, and he brought Philip, another of the Irish brain drain which keeps the City Of London on its toes, with him. So that was great: Andrew rode Brief Goodbye and Limit Down, and Philip rode Jack Dawson. And I rode nothing, which was a great luxury, as I was able to act like a normal trainer for once, and operate in a supervisory capacity. I'm really pleased with one of the photos taken yesterday of me overseeing matters on the Heath, as it makes me look like a normal trainer. I was even more pleased when Emma said that I looked very worried in the photo, because that brought to mind Sir Mark Prescott's dictum that a happy trainer is a bad trainer; that, however well things are going, if a trainer isn't worrying about at least one of his charges he's taken his eye of the ball. And the icing on the cake was that it was a glorious spring day, our sixth consecutively. And today is the seventh. (Inevitably, rain is forecast for tomorrow.) This was particulary pleasing as it was Philip's first visit to Newmarket, so he was able to see the Heath in its full glory.
As Emma has mentioned in her blog today, it was particularly nice to have an untaxing Saturday morning, as we'd had a late night on Friday in London. In my book, going to bed any time after ten makes the night a late one, and we didn't get to bed until after midnight, which is just about my worst nightmare. Still, it was a very pleasant evening, courtesy of Charlie and Lou Eddis, and we were kindly accomodated by Alan Byrne. The reason for this get-together is a mini-Cheltenham preview (one of the few which David Ashforth hasn't attended), at which we have to nail our colours to a few masts. Unbelievably, last year nobody present tipped a single winner, so the person with the most non-runners (whoever that was) emerged victorious. This year there were eight people, coming up with five selections each, so it will be a poor effort if none of those 40 picks win - especially as seven of the eight people present are full-time or part-time professional racing journalists. For what it's worth, my tips were Kauto Star (to undermine my stated conviction that he is a certainty in the Gold Cup, Charlie reminded me that last year I'd said the same thing about him in the Queen Mother Two-Mile Champion Chase, to which the obvious retort was that next year I'll be saying that he's a certainty in the Grand National), Well Chief, Blazing Bailey, Juveigneur, and Straw Bear to be placed in the Champion Hurdle (I wasn't really paying attention when Charlie told us the rules, but I think we were to nominate a horse at odds of 6/1 or longer to be placed). So we'll see. I believe that whoever does the worst has to host the following year's gathering, so let's hope that it's either Emma or I, as then we wouldn't have to go to London.Unsurprisingly I nodded off in front the the television yesterday afternoon, but I didn't sleep for very long as my phone went off fifteen minutes later. However, I was delighted to be disturbed when I discovered the identity of the caller, because it was Lisa Jones calling from Macau to say g'day. I hadn't heard from her for ages, so it was really pleasing to take the call and hear that she's still thriving over there. She certainly deserves to thrive wherever she choses to ply her trade. She tells me that she's had mixed luck this season, with a satisfactory haul of rides and winners when she's been uninjured, but that she missed four months when she broke her elbow in a fall. She's had her license extended for the rest of the season, so the authorities and she are obviously both happy with the way things are going. We'll call her a British jockey, even though that's not really correct, and I think that makes her one of only two such there currently, the other being Tony Whelan (assuming he's still on the go), with Brett Doyle not having returned there this season. It's years since Tony last rode in the UK. I think his last stint here was when he worked for Mark Tompkins for a while, and I remember him riding Bold Cardowan for us then in a maiden at Catterick: Bold was a three-year-old then, and he ended up racing for several years over hurdles after he'd finished on the flat, and has been retired for several years, so that tells you how long Tony's been away.
We're getting towards dusk now, so I'll head out and fetch the horses in from what should have been a blissful spring afternoon of freedom for them. I'll give Lady Suffragette a particularly caring pat, to keep her in good spirits in advance of her big day at Plumpton. I was right in predicting that it would be a weak race: I think I've got her in good form, and I've certainly found the right race, so let's hope for the best. Just one thought before I sign off is that, as always, the Walrus' posting was a joy to read. Mention of Joseph O'Connor's 'Star Of The Sea' brings to mind what I particularly remember the book for. I add potassium iodide to the feed of unwell horses in the belief that it stimulates healing within animals (I don't know why, but a guess would be that white blood cells are rich in either potassium or iodine, or both - but that could be completely wrong); anyway, I give it to them believing that it does them good but not knowing why, or even if it does, so I was very pleased to read in that book that in the 1840s it was prescribed as an attempt to cure syphilis, which implies that our belief that it is a healer has stood the test of time (even allowing for the fact that, presumably, it doesn't actually cure syphilis). Oh yes, and on the subject of the Walrus' posting, regarding Liverpool v. Everton, Cliff tells me that his father, a lifelong Liverpool supporter, was buried in a blue shroud, which Cliff suspected was the undertaker's idea of a sick joke. Now, one obviously can have Protestant Evertonians, and presumably Catholic Liverpudlians, but I doubt that any Liverpudlian would chose to wear blue. I'd say that Mr Rimmer senior would have been turning in his grave even before he was fully lowered into it.
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