Press Room Life - Part One

If I could have a pound for every time someone has said to me “you have a cushy life covering horse racing” I would have been able to “retire” years ago.

If only it was always cushy.

Yes I appreciate the accredited press do have some decent perks like getting free admission and getting to see some of the best racing action there is, sometimes from the best seat in the house, although not always.

There are plenty, far too many, accredited journalists who only come out of the woodwork at the big meetings, who wouldn’t be seen dead at a lesser track on a wet Tuesday afternoon – but that’s a story for another day.

The biggest surprise, when I was first accredited, was to discover we get fed at the racecourses. I use the term ‘fed’ loosely as the quality varies greatly.

I’ve always found it odd that the press should be fed by the courses. It’s the first time I’ve worked anywhere and been supplied with a free lunch on a regular basis. Why shouldn’t racing journalists pay for their lunch like anybody else?

I suppose I could be accused of hypocrisy in criticising the free lunches on the basis I generally avail myself of them but if it’s handed to you on a plate, as it were, you take it don’t you?

I personally would not complain if the free lunches were withdrawn, I have always expected to pay my way.

Having said that there are even occasions where even the free food is so dire I will still go out and buy my lunch elsewhere.

Most courses offer variations on sandwiches, some exceptionally good, some so bad you are risking life, limb and digestive system.

Semi-thawed, previously frozen sandwiches are not unknown.

However the “prize” for the most amazing food must go to Leicester a couple of years ago. The lady who makes the sandwiches was “with child” and was clearly having food cravings as the contents of the sandwiches were clearly reflective of her cravings and contained every possible surreal combination you could think of.

At the end of every meeting the number of sandwiches remaining was exactly the same as when we started. Luckily at Leicester there is an excellent Aberdeen Angus Hot beef stall which many of us still use in preference to the sandwiches.

Some courses give vouchers to use in the course cafés which are handy and others provide some decent hot meals.

Of the so called smaller courses by far the best is Southwell, whose chef produces some really wholesome, tasty hot food and the food always varies.

Top for feeding  has to be Ascot where the food on offer would be quite acceptable at any decent restaurant.

The best ever there was at a Shergar Cup meeting, where the chef produced a hot buffet with food items representing the nations of all the various competing riders – it was worth going for the food alone. 

If I’m going to be slightly churlish about the Ascot food then it relates to the same menu being available each meeting, so by day five of Royal Ascot, the menu becomes, dare I say, a tad boring, to the extent I’m even going out to purchase the overpriced offerings on sale to the paying punters.

Food is only one aspect of working at the course, the other is the press rooms themselves and, boy do they vary, from the sublime to the absolute ridiculous.

Ascot has both. The main press room is one of the best in the country, decent workspace, plenty of televisions and a viewing balcony with excellent viewing of the racecourse. By contrast the media centre under the grandstand, where us lesser mortals are sent during the Royal meeting, would give the black hole of Calcutta a run for its money. Windowless and cramped it has TV screens but no means of recording the racing, it is really a depressing place to work.

You would think press rooms would be provided so the press can actually watch the racing, don’t you believe it.

The Aintree media centre is behind the stands with no viewing of the racing although a viewing area is provided on the roof of the County Stand.  Bangor and  Bath have small rooms with no viewing of the racing. Beverley had a larger room but again no viewing of the racing. Whilst at Carlisle the press are consigned to an area behind the parade ring.

Like Carlisle, Ffos Las have the press as far away from the action as possible, similarly Hamilton.

Musselburgh operate a similar dungeon system to the Ascot media centre with a windowless room in the bowels of the grandstand, whilst Perth is another with a press room behind the stands along with Stratford, a press room that is so insecure we have to chain out laptops to our desks and try and ensure the press room is never left unattended.   

Wetherby is another press room where you cannot see the racing along with Yarmouth.

On the other hand some press rooms are sublime.

Take Epsom, for example, the room itself is basic but its situation, on the roof of the Queens Stand affords one of the best views in racing.

When it is peeing with rain the press rooms at Newcastle, Market Rasen and, to a lesser extent, Doncaster  are a delight as they a) overlook their respective parade rings and b) you can view the racing  without having to go outside into the wet.

The most “infamous” press room has to be Fakenham’s. Located at the top of the steppings it runs along about 1/3 of the stand so it looks quite big, however its front wall is no more than three feet from the back wall, so if you sit down nobody can move past you. Intimate is the kindest description I have heard to describe it. Although you can, at least, see the racing.

One course worthy of a special mention is Catterick, whose press room provides an individual television at every seat.

I can’t talk about press rooms without touching on the most controversial point of all – wi-fi.

Gone are the days when journalists used to phone copy through to copy takers back in the office. 

Now coverage is increasingly web-oriented and that needs instant access, something many courses seeming have failed to embrace.

I’ve lost count of the number of courses who have picked up a cheap router from their local computer store, thinking the same router that works well at home will also suit the needs of a racecourse.    

Some courses, especially those part of Arc and Jockey Club and courses like Ascot have professional IT teams and provided a generally robust IT infrastructure.

With some of the smaller courses it is woeful. I won’t name it but at one course the 17 year old nephew of the managing director is in charge of IT provision.

At others the press have to share bandwith with the in-running backers so every time an “away” meeting goes off the press access slows to a crawl.

Some of the more computer savvy users of the press room now turn up with, at least, a 3G dongle as back-up in case the wi-fi does not work. I turn up with four alternative means of getting on-line but even I can get defeated on occasion.

A few times I have helped the Racing Post reporters or race readers gain access to submit their copy, depending on who the individual is. I have to admit with a couple of them I happily leave them to flounder.

There was a case last week when the “Live Reporter” was having major issues getting online and connected and he was on the phone to the RP tech support guys trying to resolve the issue. It was a problem, with my IT background,  I could have fixed in less than five minutes and had it been any other of the reporters I would have offered to help  – in this case I have to admit it was thoroughly enjoyable watching him get more and more frustrated as the afternoon progressed.  

 
Much more on the press room "characters" in part two.

An ImPerthect trip

I live in Milton Keynes – I admit it isn’t something I’m proud of and certainly not something I would sing about from the rooftops.

However it does have one advantage – its location. Every UK racecourse is, theoretically, a day trip away, although some do involve flying.

For me the furthest flung racecourse is Perth, a neat little 406 miles each way by car. Unsurprisingly Perth is my least visited racecourse. It is also the most jinxed in terms of trying to visit.

My first couple of visits to Perth were straightforward as they coincided, accidentally and purely coincidentally of course, with holiday trips to Scotland.

It’s not so bad to get to the course when you’re actually starting off from the same country.  

Other visits have been flying ones, literally. A flight from Luton or Stansted to Edinburgh, then a hire car to the course, but even that is not straightforward.

In September 2010 I was off to Perth again. The forecast was for a showery previous evening then a sunny day. I arrived at Stansted Airport about 06:00 and it was a lovely crisp sunny morning.

The flight was on time and arriving at Edinburgh it was a delightful sunny day. So it was off to collect the hire car and northbound to Perth.

I had time to kill so I stopped at Kinross Services on the M90 for a relaxing “full Scottish” breakfast and I decided to fire up my laptop to see if there were any non-runners.

Indeed there were non-runners, every single one of them!!

The sunshine was deceptive as, overnight, the course had encountered a shower, a shower so heavy the course became waterlogged and the meeting was called off, whilst I was obliviously waiting to board my flight. 

A quick check with the airline showed the next flight to London wasn’t until 17:30 – at least they switched me to that flight at no extra charge.

They day didn’t turn out too badly in the end – I did some exploring and ended up (by design) in Arbroath around lunchtime, where I treated myself to a hot Arbroath Smokie, straight from the kiln –more than compensating for the missed racing.

It was, however, still an expensive days sightseeing.

That was my last attempt to go racing at Perth, until last week.

Regular readers will know I’m packing in the racing from the end of this year and I’m doing a farewell tour of the more far flung courses. Of course that had to include Perth.

I had a dilemma as I have done a few northern trips in the past few weeks  and, frankly, I didn’t fancy the drive. Flying was not an option as I’m currently  “banned” from flying by the medics.

That left limited options so I opted for rail travel.

Travelling up I booked an advance ticket for just £28, just over six hours from Milton Keynes with one change of train in Glasgow.

Coming back I toyed with catching the sleeper train but that would have entailed leaving Perth at 23:21 and getting thrown off the sleeper to change trains at Crewe at the ungodly hour of 05:36. I really didn’t fancy paying £200 just for a couple of hours sleep.

So it was a matter of coming back the next day. The cheapest train journey back next day was £68.

As well as writing about horse racing I am also a travel writer – something I very much prefer.

So I decided to combine the trip with some travel writing and I decided to come home catching a National Express coach, so I could write about the experience.

The trip was, indeed, an experience.

The rail journey was relatively painless, even my reserved seat was free when boarding at Milton Keynes – something of a minor miracle.

There was a minor stir on the train to Perth as a lady boarded the train at Stirling thinking it was going to Glasgow and then proceeded to have an Oscar winning hysterical hissy-fit when she realised the train was going in the opposite direction and the next  station was Perth.

On arriving at Perth I almost made a bee-line to the taxi rank for the four mile trip to the course.
Unfortunately I didn’t as I opted, instead, to catch the special bus service to the course.

For some perverse reason, race day busses depart from neither the railway station nor the adjacent bus station – which would seem logical – but from somewhere the other side of the city centre.

With some help from friendly locals I found the bus stop and was bemused to see the bus was actually an old Routemaster.

Now the romantic in me loves the old Routemasters with their iconic platforms for jumping on and off. However in the 21^st century they are not really practical, as they seem to have a top speed of 20 mph and coupled with Perth’s gridlocked roads it made for a very long, frustrating, 25 minute four mile journey to the course.

I arrived at the course with just 50 minutes to the opening race.

One of the perks of being an accredited journalist is we have a Pass card to gain entry to the course, usually via the Owners and Trainers entrance, an easy, painless process – normally.

There was a massive queue at the Owners and Trainers entrance and it took almost 15 minutes to get in.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful, although I had forgotten just how poor viewing is at Perth.

The overnight stay was fine although I do wonder if Perth has some ideas above its station.

Perth regained city status in 2012 and it seems to have celebrated by charging “city prices” in its restaurants, to the extent it makes London look cheap.

How can any restaurant justify charging £18.50 for a dish of spaghetti carbonara? Or £22 for a plain 8oz sirloin steak?  

Well now for the journey home. As I mentioned earlier I also do travel writing and I thought something about coach travel would be different.

Apart from trips to and from airports it’s over 40 years since I last travelled by coach.

Like the journey north it was in two parts – Perth to Glasgow then Glasgow to Milton Keynes.

The first shock came when boarding the coach to Glasgow when the driver told me I couldn’t take my bag on board. It wasn’t a huge bag – a pilot style overnight bag in fact. The hour and twenty minute journey was uneventful and the large windows in the coach allowed for some stunning views of the scenery.

When it was time to change coaches at Glasgow I made sure I retrieved my tablet from my bag so I could at least use the Kindle if the trip was too dire.

I also, wisely as it happened, stocked up with water and sweets before boarding for the 7¾ hour drive to Milton Keynes.

I’m not going to compromise my travel write-up but suffice to say it was an interesting trip – I think it can be best summed up as, like a long haul flight but without the trolly-dolly’s.

Yes the scenery driving through the Lake District was stunning but once south of Lancaster it was boring, boring and thank goodness for the kindle to retain my sanity.

Using the on-board toilet facilities as the coach switched lanes at 70 mph was a technique I failed to master.

The biggest surprise though was the journey from Glasgow to London was with a single driver which meant 45 minute statutory stops for him to have a break – have you ever tried to kill 45 minutes at a motorway service area?

I can tell you two things following that trip.

Firstly I will never, ever, be going on a coach holiday and secondly,  I will only be racing at Perth again if I already happen to be in the vicinity on a day they are racing.

Oh yes, I almost forgot, the coach was also late getting into Milton Keynes!!