Amen

Well it is almost a year since I last went horse racing* and, at the time, I said I would review if I had any future with racing after a year has passed.

However, like a beloved pet who is in the final stages of their life it is better to humanely let it go rather than drag things on unnecessarily.

So I have reviewed, cogitated and digested and the very simple answer is I will not be returning to racing anytime in the near future.

The reality is I have not missed the sport at all - I have missed some of the great people I met whilst going racing. Some I am still in contact with and hope to remain so. One or two I have, sadly, lost contact with but I hope I will be able to catch up with them again in the future.

When I attended my final rules meeting at Fontwell many said I wouldn't last more than a couple of weeks without going racing - indeed the very same thought had crossed my mind. One of my racing buddies sent me a text almost every week saying "going to 'so and so' tomorrow?"

Would I get cold turkey?

Absolutely not - no withdrawal symptoms at all, indeed with the terrible wet weather last winter there was many a day when I though "I'm glad I'm not racing in this weather."

I did wonder how I would be come Cheltenham but that passed without any twangs of guilt, indeed I didn't even watch it on television.

I did almost end up working at Royal Ascot (non racing related) but that fell through.

I've barely watched any racing on television - I think I've watched a few "part" races and the only race I watched all the way through was, surprisingly, the Grand National.

I had planned to watch the Arc, my favourite flat race, last Sunday but actually forgot to turn it on and that probably sums it all up.

I've been keeping half an eye on the racing scene, mainly via the excellent Racing Forum web site, but frankly nothing has changed. The sport is still disorganised. The move to even more artificial surface racing moves relentlessly on and on with the re-opening of Great Leighs as Chelmsford City - you can change the name but will it be any better than its former incarnation. Then there is the planned desecration of Newcastle Racecourse and its conversion to artificial surface racing as well.

It hasn't all been bad news, Paul Bittar who promised so much but delivered so little, turning out to be the great appeaser, is on his way out.

This year has been a revelation in terms of how keen some people are about racing. I had kept the racecards from every meeting I have ever attended, bar three. With the exception of a couple of "sentimental" racecards I decided to sell them all this year and I could not believe how much money I made for them - it did help a lively bidding war developed for them on a certain well known online auction site. Similarly my collection of admission badges also raised a not insignificant sum.

I also kept half an eye on the racing through my dear father-in-law who loved to have a bet and I would put his bets on for him - sadly he passed away in July and that finally broke any final contact I had with the sport.

In a final move I staked the entire contents of all my bookmaker accounts on one final bet and, somewhat fittingly, it lost - had it won I would have bought a new car and had a holiday in memory of father-in-law as it lost it finally broke the link.  

When I gave up the racing I planned to spend more time relaxing, planning to play golf - I haven't touched my clubs once.

I planned to start up a new, non-racing, web-site but I'm still getting round to it (I'm still hoping it will be complete by the end of this year - but I'm not holding my breath).

Talking of web-sites I finally put www.ors-racing.co.uk out of its misery on 1st October, the site name and its content is now up for sale.

Will I ever go racing again - well as the saying goes - "never say never" - I undoubtedly will one day but it will be as a casual observer rather than an enthusiast and it's more likely to be something like the Arc meeting or Cartmel, two of the most beautiful settings for racecourses anywhere in the world.

So to all of you who have followed my rants, moans, hopefully some winners from paddockside a sincere thank-you.

For those I'm still in touch with please stay in touch. For those I've lost touch with (you know who you are) please get in touch.

To all of you may your bets be winners and may you continue to enjoy the sport you follow.

* I said I hadn't been racing for a year, well that wasn't quite true as I did attend a point-to-point meeting back in April, my first in 25 years and only my second ever.      

Nightmare on Merseyrail

“Ladies” Day at the Aintree Festival is one of the social highlights of the year in Liverpool. It’s a day’s racing I have only attended once and, believe me, that one occasion was more than enough.

The build up to this extraordinary day sees the busiest week of the year in the many fake tan shops in Liverpool as the local lasses add a golden, or is that orange, sheen to their complexion. There is a long standing joke, worryingly based on fact, that if it rains on Ladies Day the puddles are bright orange in colour as the spray on tan runs off the exposed legs.

Being early April the weather isn’t always warm on this day but it doesn’t stop the locals dressing inappropriately for the weather with the outfits more appropriate for high summer than low spring.

Indeed not only are the outfits often inappropriate for the weather conditions, they are frequently and frighteningly wholly inappropriate for the bodies to which they have been applied.

My one trip to Liverpool for Ladies Day remains indelibly etched on my mind and will probably do so until the day I die and I fear no form of regression therapy would ever remove it from my mind.

First of all I have to say I have an eye for attractive ladies and I do prefer my ladies to be curvy – skinny lasses really do not float my boat and if the ladies want to show off their curves that’s fine by me – within reason.

My journey to Ladies Day was made by train and I did the final leg on the local rail service, Merseyrail.

A lady boarded the train and sat opposite me, she was curvy and she was wearing a short skirt, half way up her thighs and her top was, how shall I put it, figure hugging.

It sounds good on first impressions but there was a sting in the tail, or even a couple of stings.

Firstly this was not some young lady in the first flushes of youth, this was a woman who must have been well into her fifties.

Secondly I’m no expert on women’s clothes sizes  but she must have been easily in the high teens, low to mid twenties in terms of size.

It just was not right.

Did she not possess a mirror. A mini skirt is fine but not when you possess thunder thighs, thankfully she was wearing tights but you could still see the markings from the cellulite.

The top was more than worrying – she was beautifully well endowed, something to normally celebrate. However the top was so tight it’s probably safe to say at least 75% of ample bosom was overflowing from this top.

Indeed I was doing some quick calculations to work out if the fabric succumbed to the intense pressure it was obviously under  would I be hit in the face by two expanding breasts.

Her décolletage was the giveaway to her age, no page three complexion here but something more like an orange which has been left out in the sun for far too long as she did, indeed, have the orange glow.

To finish off the “look” she was wearing enough make-up to keep Max Factor in profit for the next decade and she was wearing a perfume almost guaranteed to trigger an asthma attack.

Some of you may well be saying she was probably a one-off example but sadly she sort of set the standard for the day.

The afternoon itself is toxic as the drink flows and the local lads circle the ever drunker girls, like vultures waiting to pounce on their prey.

Post racing sees the unedifying sight of many of the ‘ladies’ looking anything but ladylike, staggering away or maybe just even lying in the gutter throwing up.

Yes Ladies Day at Aintree is an experience but one I was never, ever going to repeat.