Clinging on to summer

It was rather sad at the start of the week because it looked as if we really had waved goodbye to summer, but it's still clinging on. Thursday, Friday and Saturday last week were lovely days here, with the temperatures inching up to the high 20s, but the weather changed with a vengeance after that: we had a lot of rain on Sunday afternoon and a lot of rain on Tuesday too, along with relatively cold weather, strong winds and leaden skies. It had already started to change farther north because I missed the lovely day on Saturday, being at an overcast Thirsk (where Ethics Girl - seen returning to the unsaddling enclosure under Rab Havlin - ran yet another admirable race, finishing a brave third in the Hambleton Cup, a race which she had won last year) while Newmarket enjoyed what will surely have been its last properly hot day of the year. But, having said that, today has been rather pleasant, with temperatures in the low 20s, and the humidity making it seem warmer still. It seems set to be a proper summer night too (albeit one which begins a couple of hours earlier, and ends a couple of hours later, than a proper summer night) with the night-time low likely to be as high as 16. So that's the weather news: we're moving away from summer, but we'll put a brave face on it because days like this help us to remember that autumn and winter won't be all chilly winds, invisible suns, and rain. It might, though, be at least seven months before the yard again basks quite as gloriously as it did in this photograph taken seven days ago, with First Pressing, Batgirl and Gus (if you look closely beyond the far side of the pens) all clearly revelling in the conditions.


So what's been happening, other than weather? Well, not a great deal, actually. We haven't had any runners this week (in fact, I don't think that we even had any entries) but there's no harm in that: the horses who have been running have been busy enough, and so have we. We'll have three horses entered next week so I'd hope that we will have three runners. You might wonder why, when I haven't been anywhere, I've gone a full week between blog posts, and I'm afraid that I can't really answer that one. There's been plenty to do in the yard, of course - but then there always is. It's just been that August was a terrible month for me as regards administration, so I've been trying to get less behind on that front than I was. Disgracefully, the month ended with not all the accounts having been sent out, so I'm trying to get myself up to date in that respect, and with so many of the other bits of paperwork which had been going by the board in the previous few weeks. I did actually have one outing, but even that didn't really involve my going anywhere: William Gittus, on behalf of the Jockey Club, organised a tour of the town for our local councillors so that we/they might be better acquainted with just what a pivotal role racing/training/breeding plays in the local community/economy, and I went along to that. That was a really worthwhile event, and I have no doubt that our little corner of the world will be better understood by our overlords on Forest Heath District Council and Suffolk County Council because of it. The Newmarket Town Councillors - most obviously myself - probably found the tour less revealing, but even so I was very pleased to have had the chance to take part in what was a very worthwhile (and enjoyable) exercise. So Tuesday had seen me riding out only two lots before making my way to the Jockey Club for about 9.15 and then seeing a representative cross-section of Newmarket's equestrian parts, including good tours of William Haggas' stable and the National Stud (where we saw the stallions Pastoral Pursuits and his father Bahamian Bounty) given by Gail Hacking and Brian O'Rourke respectively.


Otherwise, most of the occurences have been seasonal ones. One of the highlights of this time of year in the yard is the activity of our visiting house martens (which I believe them to be, although I'm very prepared to be contradicted on that one). We have a nest under the eaves up the top of the yard which is occupied every year (touch wood) by a mother house marten. Currently you can't go near it without hearing the chirping of the babies, who are starting to stick their adult-looking heads over the parapet as mum comes and goes with their dinners (pictured

- and you can just about pick out the nest to the left of the mother as we look at them). No doubt they'll soon be gone and that will mean another nail in summer's coffin - but just now they are enchanting. Even on some grey days, we've been having some terrific evening skies, with a few minutes of ghostly light being a pre-dusk treat on several days this week. All part of autumn, I suppose - but if you'd looked across the road yesterday, you might have thought that we were coming into spring, the time supposedly of cleaning. For reasons known only to himself, our neighbour Don Cantillon pushed the boat out this week and hired one of Newmarket's great characters, Mr Shammie, to clean his horsebox, inside and out. I suppose that the logic is that, as Don is primarily a National Hunt trainer, his horsebox will be coming up to its busy time - but, even so, it was nice and rather surprising to see a bit of spring-cleaning in September. So that's all a very roundabout way of saying that there hasn't been a great deal to report this week. The ever-shortening days really do take some getting used to and, while in winter getting up in the dark is simply a fact of life, it's always a shock at this time of year to get used to getting up and finding that it is not yet light. Still, there's always a stableful of horses waiting to delight and frustrate in equal measure, there's always some optimism to be found lurking somewhere, and there's always a brahma or two to enjoy. So we'll keep shuffling down the stairs to get the day started - even if not necessarily with the enthusiasm with which Gus invariably bounds down to investigate the downstairs world.