I think that I last blogged towards the end of last week, and wrote then that I was looking forward to the weekend, in particular to the trips to Goodwood and Newbury to run Ethics Girl and Silken Thoughts. I'm pleased now to be able to report that both outings did indeed prove to be very pleasurable, notwithstanding the fact that Ethics Girl proved uncompetitive at Goodwood. That was not a total surprise because she was keeping very good company - and keeping it under a big weight too, as she is very high in the handicap at present. She had a tremendous winter on the AW, thriving in the small fields of the higher-level longer-distance handicaps at Wolverhampton.
That track suits her ideally, she was in great form, the pool of potential opponents was very small - so she ended the winter rated much higher than any of her grass form has ever suggested that she deserves to be. This means, the handicapper surprisingly having decided against giving her separate AW and turf marks, that she's 'weighted up to the hilt' on the grass at present - which meant that she would have needed everything to go her way for her to finish among the principals in a fiercely competitive 16-runner handicap at the second most prestigious meeting in the calendar. And that certainly did not happen: she missed the start and got held up for a run on the inside as one of her tiring rivals wandered around in front of her, so she had to settle for a finishing position three quarters of the way down the field. Still, she's come home in fine fettle, again demonstrating her super-toughness, so she'll have other days.
Anyway, it's always a pleasure to take Ethics Girl (seen in the previous paragraph setting off under Hannah towards the start under the splendid grandstand, and then passing the post among the tail-enders) to the races as she's such a trouper. And it's a particular pleasure when the races are Goodwood, the Glorious meeting or otherwise. This really is the best meeting of the year. For sure, the racing at Royal Ascot (seven Group One races as opposed to Goodwood's two) has to be regarded overall as superior, but that's only a small part of it. For a day at the races, there is no comparison: while the
off-course viewer has more to enjoy from Ascot, simply because of the superior racing, the racegoer has so much more to enjoy at Goodwood. Admittedly Goodwood has the massive advantage of being a collection of magnificent buildings in a magnificent setting at the end of a wonderfully scenic journey (irrespective of whichever direction one comes from) - but then Ascot used to be a tremendously appealing place too, before its finest features (such as the old parade ring, pre-parade ring and unsaddling enclosure) were consigned to history. But Goodwood has somehow managed to retain the feel of a really special race-meeting,
rather than an extremely crowded semi-outdoor pub which has some tremendous racing tacked on. I know that I'm probably biased in that it's always more enjoyable to go to the races as a participant (as either owner, trainer, jockey, stable lad or breeder) rather than as an uninvolved spectator, and I've never been to Royal Ascot in any of those roles (one day, perhaps!) while I've now trained five runners at Glorious Goodwood over the past 17 years (and no place-getters - one day, perhaps!); but, even so, I still think my view holds water. Anyway, as you'll have gathered, I love going to Goodwood on any day (I'd even love going there on a non-racing day) but particularly during its main meeting. And last Saturday's visit came with the particular
bonuses of lovely weather which Gus and I both enjoyed equally, and of the victory of the star mare Midday. I'm ashamed to say that it's taken me until this year to appreciate just what a star she is (for instance, this is the first year that she has been in my XII To Follow list, while Goldikova is in her third year on the team) but, as we know, nobody preaches with more zeal than the recent convert - so I was delighted to be there when she won her third Nassau Stakes; and even more delighted to take the opportunity to hero-worship her in the stable-yard afterwards, where her regular attendant Shane Featherstonehaugh (whose daily duties also include riding Frankel) was kind enough to put up with me annoying him when really I should have been leaving him in peace to reflect on a week's work very well done. In fact, I spent so much time admiring the lovely Midday that I never even laid eyes on the day's other star Hoof It. Unforgiveable!
Anyway, if that was a lovely trip, Sunday's outing was even better. And for that we have the lovely Silken Thoughts to thank. We should just draw a veil over the fact that it took me ... ummm ... (just whisper it) ... TWELVE STARTS to win a race with this filly, who has always been a talented and genuine horse. Still we got there in the end. Now that I've finally got her up to ten furlongs, she's posted easily her two best Topspeed figures in her two starts at that distance, when running third to Aiken (subsequently a winner off an 8lb higher mark at Ascot on King George Day) at Sandown and now winning well at Newbury. In my defence, she had been running consistently well at distances shorter than a mile (albeit without winning) while she comes from a family consisting almost exclusively of sprinters. Excuses, excuses, excuses!
Still, the long and short of it is that, to quote Fred Rickaby again, "if they're good enough, they'll win despite you" - and Silken Thoughts is truly a lovely genuine filly, who has held her form, condition and genuineness long enough still to be in a position to exploit her talents when I've finally got round to putting her in the right race. She's been helped, of course, in remaining in good nick, physically and mentally, by the skill of Hugh, who has been her regular rider all the way through, and who I'm delighted was on duty on Sunday to lead her into the winner's enclosure - with, I hope, justifiable pride, because he certainly deserved to be doing so with pride. And so the upshot was a lovely day as she followed in the hoofprints of the great Brief Goodbye by carrying the colours of the late Joe McCarthy, worn on this occasion by the typically excellent Cathy Gannon, into the Newbury winner's enclosure, where her happy bunch of connections lingered awhile before enjoying the hospitality of the racecourse in the Royal Box. Which was no less than her owners deserved for having put up so tolerantly with my run of poor previous race selection!
As we know, there's always a brahma; and there was indeed one at Newbury. What happened was that I was caught out by Newbury having, inexplicably, joined the ever-growing band of courses at which the horses seem to pass neither the judge nor the stands if the start is in the back straight. The first two races were the two divisions of the amateurs' race. I was walking the track between these races to have a look at the (fast, but very good) ground. I was at the entrance to the back straight, keeping half an eye out for what was going over on the other side of the track so that I'd see the horses when they started to file out onto the course to parade before heading off in my direction, so
that I wouldn't be caught out when they appeared. Anyway - I was wandering around on the track, looking down towards the stalls, when suddenly I heard thundering hooves approaching me from behind, the horses, it transpired, having come out onto the track and turned instantly right towards the back straight, thus catching me unawares. Eeeks - you suspect members of the public being dozy enough to get themselves knocked down by horses, not people who are meant to know what they're doing! Fortunately, I happened to be towards the outside of the track at the time so the horse passed by me not too close and I was able to look as if I had the matter under control
(and as if I wasn't both embarrassed and terrified simultaneously). So no harm was done - particularly as the horse in question could be more or less guaranteed not to be spooked by the sight of me, as he has seen me just about every day for the past several years: old Cragganmore Creek, who lives on this property, trained by Dave Morris, and ridden on Sunday by Dave's son Ben (in the first picture in this paragraph). Again, proof that all's well that ends well! As did the race for one of our other local amateur riders: Ross Birkett, Julia Feilden's son, rode (as the second picture shows) the winner Rather Cool (for John Bridger, with, confusingly, his mother's horse Entrance, ridden by his younger sister and shown in the final picture, back in fourth).
I think that I last blogged towards the end of last week, and wrote then that I was looking forward to the weekend, in particular to the trips to Goodwood and Newbury to run Ethics Girl and Silken Thoughts. I'm pleased now to be able to report that both outings did indeed prove to be very pleasurable, notwithstanding the fact that Ethics Girl proved uncompetitive at Goodwood. That was not a total surprise because she was keeping very good company - and keeping it under a big weight too, as she is very high in the handicap at present. She had a tremendous winter on the AW, thriving in the small fields of the higher-level longer-distance handicaps at Wolverhampton. 
That track suits her ideally, she was in great form, the pool of potential opponents was very small - so she ended the winter rated much higher than any of her grass form has ever suggested that she deserves to be. This means, the handicapper surprisingly having decided against giving her separate AW and turf marks, that she's 'weighted up to the hilt' on the grass at present - which meant that she would have needed everything to go her way for her to finish among the principals in a fiercely competitive 16-runner handicap at the second most prestigious meeting in the calendar. And that certainly did not happen: she missed the start and got held up for a run on the inside as one of her tiring rivals wandered around in front of her, so she had to settle for a finishing position three quarters of the way down the field. Still, she's come home in fine fettle, again demonstrating her super-toughness, so she'll have other days. 
Anyway, it's always a pleasure to take Ethics Girl (seen in the previous paragraph setting off under Hannah towards the start under the splendid grandstand, and then passing the post among the tail-enders) to the races as she's such a trouper. And it's a particular pleasure when the races are Goodwood, the Glorious meeting or otherwise. This really is the best meeting of the year. For sure, the racing at Royal Ascot (seven Group One races as opposed to Goodwood's two) has to be regarded overall as superior, but that's only a small part of it. For a day at the races, there is no comparison: while the 
off-course viewer has more to enjoy from Ascot, simply because of the superior racing, the racegoer has so much more to enjoy at Goodwood. Admittedly Goodwood has the massive advantage of being a collection of magnificent buildings in a magnificent setting at the end of a wonderfully scenic journey (irrespective of whichever direction one comes from) - but then Ascot used to be a tremendously appealing place too, before its finest features (such as the old parade ring, pre-parade ring and unsaddling enclosure) were consigned to history. But Goodwood has somehow managed to retain the feel of a really special race-meeting, 
rather than an extremely crowded semi-outdoor pub which has some tremendous racing tacked on. I know that I'm probably biased in that it's always more enjoyable to go to the races as a participant (as either owner, trainer, jockey, stable lad or breeder) rather than as an uninvolved spectator, and I've never been to Royal Ascot in any of those roles (one day, perhaps!) while I've now trained five runners at Glorious Goodwood over the past 17 years (and no place-getters - one day, perhaps!); but, even so, I still think my view holds water. Anyway, as you'll have gathered, I love going to Goodwood on any day (I'd even love going there on a non-racing day) but particularly during its main meeting. And last Saturday's visit came with the particular
bonuses of lovely weather which Gus and I both enjoyed equally, and of the victory of the star mare Midday. I'm ashamed to say that it's taken me until this year to appreciate just what a star she is (for instance, this is the first year that she has been in my XII To Follow list, while Goldikova is in her third year on the team) but, as we know, nobody preaches with more zeal than the recent convert - so I was delighted to be there when she won her third Nassau Stakes; and even more delighted to take the opportunity to hero-worship her in the stable-yard afterwards, where her regular attendant Shane Featherstonehaugh (whose daily duties also include riding Frankel) was kind enough to put up with me annoying him when really I should have been leaving him in peace to reflect on a week's work very well done. In fact, I spent so much time admiring the lovely Midday that I never even laid eyes on the day's other star Hoof It. Unforgiveable!
Anyway, if that was a lovely trip, Sunday's outing was even better. And for that we have the lovely Silken Thoughts to thank. We should just draw a veil over the fact that it took me ... ummm ... (just whisper it) ... TWELVE STARTS to win a race with this filly, who has always been a talented and genuine horse. Still we got there in the end. Now that I've finally got her up to ten furlongs, she's posted easily her two best Topspeed figures in her two starts at that distance, when running third to Aiken (subsequently a winner off an 8lb higher mark at Ascot on King George Day) at Sandown and now winning well at Newbury. In my defence, she had been running consistently well at distances shorter than a mile (albeit without winning) while she comes from a family consisting almost exclusively of sprinters. Excuses, excuses, excuses! 
Still, the long and short of it is that, to quote Fred Rickaby again, "if they're good enough, they'll win despite you" - and Silken Thoughts is truly a lovely genuine filly, who has held her form, condition and genuineness long enough still to be in a position to exploit her talents when I've finally got round to putting her in the right race. She's been helped, of course, in remaining in good nick, physically and mentally, by the skill of Hugh, who has been her regular rider all the way through, and who I'm delighted was on duty on Sunday to lead her into the winner's enclosure - with, I hope, justifiable pride, because he certainly deserved to be doing so with pride. And so the upshot was a lovely day as she followed in the hoofprints of the great Brief Goodbye by carrying the colours of the late Joe McCarthy, worn on this occasion by the typically excellent Cathy Gannon, into the Newbury winner's enclosure, where her happy bunch of connections lingered awhile before enjoying the hospitality of the racecourse in the Royal Box. Which was no less than her owners deserved for having put up so tolerantly with my run of poor previous race selection!
As we know, there's always a brahma; and there was indeed one at Newbury. What happened was that I was caught out by Newbury having, inexplicably, joined the ever-growing band of courses at which the horses seem to pass neither the judge nor the stands if the start is in the back straight. The first two races were the two divisions of the amateurs' race. I was walking the track between these races to have a look at the (fast, but very good) ground. I was at the entrance to the back straight, keeping half an eye out for what was going over on the other side of the track so that I'd see the horses when they started to file out onto the course to parade before heading off in my direction, so 
that I wouldn't be caught out when they appeared. Anyway - I was wandering around on the track, looking down towards the stalls, when suddenly I heard thundering hooves approaching me from behind, the horses, it transpired, having come out onto the track and turned instantly right towards the back straight, thus catching me unawares. Eeeks - you suspect members of the public being dozy enough to get themselves knocked down by horses, not people who are meant to know what they're doing! Fortunately, I happened to be towards the outside of the track at the time so the horse passed by me not too close and I was able to look as if I had the matter under control 
(and as if I wasn't both embarrassed and terrified simultaneously). So no harm was done - particularly as the horse in question could be more or less guaranteed not to be spooked by the sight of me, as he has seen me just about every day for the past several years: old Cragganmore Creek, who lives on this property, trained by Dave Morris, and ridden on Sunday by Dave's son Ben (in the first picture in this paragraph). Again, proof that all's well that ends well! As did the race for one of our other local amateur riders: Ross Birkett, Julia Feilden's son, rode (as the second picture shows) the winner Rather Cool (for John Bridger, with, confusingly, his mother's horse Entrance, ridden by his younger sister and shown in the final picture, back in fourth).
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