Bronwen's Blog-in which the housekeeper at Grange Hill Farm brings you all the news and views from racing's hub

Tues 9th: - one way or another yesterday was one to forget. He, of course, was under my feet all day when I'd expected a welcome few hours of freedom while the efforts of our 3 runners at Stratford in the afternoon were inauspicious to say the least. Reverting to the Limerick competition for a minute, it transpires that Hobby plucked up courage and ventured to the Emerald Isle alone and surprisingly remained suitably compus mentis to supply the most erudite "tip" of the evening, namely, "I don't think that Nigel has worked himself out, ". Foresight beyond his years, I'd say................At Stratford there was a bit of a plunge on Caheerloch in the h'cap hurdle, presumably triggered by the quicker ground, but any stable money happily didn't include my housekeeping and supporters knew their fate very early. The progeny of Exit To Nowhere have never done much for me and Saulty Max in her first handicap didn't do anything to change this view. The icing on a pretty poor cake came in the form of Sam's mount in the bumper when, following a slipping saddle, Dancing Legend was last seen heading sideways in the general direction of Anne Hathaway's cottage.Things can only get better at Exeter today where Petite Margot tries her hand in first time blinkers in the Devon National.................Oh dear! By the time I'd rushed back indoors from sweeping the yard Margot had already hit the deck so maybe we're getting all the bad luck out of the way ahead of next week's fireworks..........There are more worrying noises coming out of the Cheltenham camp with media reports suggesting that Saturday is under review for Gold Cup day at the Festival which would effectively mean the loss of Tuesday as the first day - unless it's simply a pre-cursor for the introduction of 5-days. For those of us - and there are many - who still think that 3 days of "equine olympics" is preferable to 4 or 5 days of diluted competition, the portents don't look good. But Baron Gillespie and his avaricious cohorts at Jockey Club Racecourses are always on the lookout to extract yet more money from N.H.supporters. I hope I'm wrong, but the members I know all fear that more money for less quality is their likely lot in future..........

Mon 8th: - imagine my surprise on stumbling down to breakfast this morning to find the trainer hale and hearty and looking for a nosebag. According to the Racing Post Saint Nigel was scheduled, along with his nursery playmate Hobby, to be at the Dunraven Arms across the water imparting pre-Cheltenham advice, liberally laced with wit and foresight, to a spellbound audience who'd shelled out 30 euros each for the undoubted privelege. So, anticipating breakfast for one I'd cut a few corners and was a bit short of my usual immaculate standard and it must have been either the hairnet or the absent top set of dentures that was responsible for the look on his face that I can only describe as somewhere between vacant and trepidatious. It's difficult to say Dunraven when you haven't got your teeth in but I got there in the end and he looked a little sheepish when he explained that when accepting the invitation he and the Bilbrook boy had misunderstood what it involved. They thought it was a limerick competition and Nigel had already got his crayons out and started on "There was a young man from Sri Lanka" before they found out that they'd actually have to travel to Limerick - and at their own expense! Whereupon self certificates were conjured up, wallets remained in customary darkness and the Dunraven Arms panel became eminently more sensible at a stroke............ the weekend's racing had a pretty predictable feel to it in the form of two more 2nds! This brought the number of times we've visited the runner's-up berth to 86 and the novelty is definitely starting to wear off. Knowhere looked for a long way at Newbury on Saturday as if he'd go one better in the veterans' chase until the funnelling run in seemed to catch him out, but he still ran a cracker. His likely "reward" is another visit to Aintree for the Grand National! Yesterday we sent Ackertrac to Huntingdon where he attracted plenty of financial support but also found one too good on the day. So for those who've have a small wager on the trainer to better his best previous winner total, the current imbalance between 56 in the No. 1 spot and 86 in the No. 2 is enough to drive them to drink. Not that mum and the regulars at The Ewe Inn need any encouragement in this respect - but neither have they yet given up all hope of joining the pay queue............

Sat 6th:- I was very tired this morning after my Friday T-D and Llewellyn double cleaning shift and this was compounded by the sound of persistent snoring from the master bedroom which made for a very restless night. So it was a rather jaded Bronwen stood in the kitchen first thing preparing Paddington's porridge and things aren't expected to get any better later on as in an attempt to make ends meet I've had to take an extra cleaning stint at the local football club. I hate football - a bunch of over paid, theatrical prima donnas apart, of course, from Ryan Giggs, who being Welsh can be relied on to behave like a gentleman. Give me a well muscled rugby man any day- in fact you can give me as many as you like - mis-shapen ears, a huge backside, missing teeth and legs like tree trunks. I wonder if Nigel was ever a flanker? I'm sure he must have been as I've heard people down the pub refer to him as one and he does have a certain physical charm - even to my one good eye. Anyway, I'll get through the cleaning as quick as I can and get away for an early night. Tomorrow I'm expecting to be on my knees - then I'll be off to chapel to pray for fewer seconds and more firsts and that all our Cheltenham runners stay sound.........The boys are off to Newbury while I'm mopping out the footballer's showers and I'm thinking that there's a decent chance that at least one of our four runners can move our winner's total on to Heinz 57 for the season. Raymond Mould's sponsoring the big race in which Battlecry looks to have conditions in his favour and being the philanthropist he is, Raymond could well include a pair of his much sought after tailored pants in the winner's package of goodies. Should this happen the trainer's sense of deprivation at this loss to his underwear drawer would be offset by the knowledge that in Trevor Hemmings at least they'd be staying in the yard.............

Fri 5th: - to bely my comments yesterday that we're all getting increasingly uptight as Cheltenham closes in, the trainer is featured in the Post today looking extremely well fed, sounding extremely laid back and making extremely confident noises as he puts his Festival team together. Gone, apparently, are the days when Nigel viewed the media in much the same way as Wayne Bridge looks at John Terry. Now he's replaced the cloak of Howard Hughes with the duffel of Paddington Bear and do you know what - he almost seems to half enjoy the experience, although both wardrobe and interviews are, one suspects, always going to take him a pace or two outside of his comfort zone. Whatever that is, but it certainly doesn't lack for optimism. David Ashforth's article in today's paper started brightly with a 'photo of the most handsome head in the yard wherein not even the features of regular work rider, Sparky Bevis, could detract from the imposing Imperial Commander. Amazingly the trainer,when glimpsed again in his sartorial finest, wasn't able to dampen the tone of the piece, with potential winner after potential winner dripping from the great man's lips. By the end of it I was frantically looking for the prices for Leading Trainer at the festival and was somewhat disappointed to see that Totesport were already running for cover with a quote of a measly 33/1. I think that if I shop around I can do better than this and am contemplating putting him in a double to also take over the television role of that other Welsh dandy, Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen. When this comes up I'll be so rich that I'll be able to hand in my notice and get a proper job...........This may not be as forlorn a hope as you may think - or even hope - for if we can just find the key to solving our continuing run of "seconditus" then we're in business big time. Two more 2nds yesterday at Ludlow with Carlitos and Fundamentalist and another today at Newbury with It's Crucial put us even further clear in the table with the number of runner-ups saddled. Convert some of these and we're in business - in which case you can forget the current Sainthood, he'll be upgraded to a knight of the realm at the very least.............

Thurs 4th: - everyone here seems to be getting very edgy. There's definitely an indefinable tension in the air as the stable staff wonder aloud whether, in the light of the trainer's recently acquired millionaire status, there's any chance of him buying them all a drink at The Hollow Bottom by way of celebration. Oh, and the Festival's now only 11 days away which would appear to be winding a few people up too........This was brought home to me today by the publication of the weights for the various handicaps at Cheltenham and I thought you'd welcome my thoughts on Grange Hill Farm's entries. I'm pretty good on handicaps, which should come as no surprise to you. After all I've had a lot of experience including keeping house for one of the biggest handicaps in history. In the 3m William Hill Chase on the first day the trainer's entered six, but with 88 entries chasing 24 places it's currently a complete guessing game. Knowhere in his dotage has been given a chance by the handicapper, but may not get in. In the Coral Cup on the Wednesday our only entry is the versatile Pigeon Island, but his weight of 10st 5lb is also likely to leave him on the cusp. The Fred Winter 4YO hurdle on the same day sees Baccalaureate allotted 11st 1lb in a possible bid to follow up his 100/1 success on the same course a few weeks ago. We've also entered Corredor Sun who's most unlikely to get in. On Thursday the first race of the day is the Jewson Novices Chase in which we've got three, Rory Boy, Diablo and Pigeon Island. Diablo's recent Ascot run was full of promise and he catches my eye with just 10st 6lb. The Pertemps hurdle follows and Ballyfitz, Pettifour, South O' The Border and Made In Japan comprise four of the 85 entries jockeying for 24 places. Much will depend on the ground, but South O' The Border will get in and off a mere 10st 1lb is giving me the tingles already. The Byrne Group Plate (what we used to know as the Mildmay of Flete) has Battlecry, Nikola, Buck The Legend, Diablo and Pigeon Island on parade. I'm tempted to pass, but Buck's coming back to form and could have a tickle, again subject to getting in off 9st 13lb. Young Sam will be sifting the Kim Muir runners, (Thursday's 4th h'cap!) and his interest lies between Pettifour, Hello Bud, Irish Raptor, Rory Boy and Buck The Legend. Pass! The last day sees the County hurdle start proceedings and we have Cootehill and Cool Touch, but both are likely to miss the cut. In the Martin Pipe Conditionals' hurdle we've entered Frascati Park and Babysitter, but here there are 178 entries for 24 starting slots so the latter is unlikely to make it. Lastly there's the "get out" stakes, better known as the Grand Annual chase, where we have Tramantano, Battlecry, Nikola and Pigeon Island. At this stage it's anyone's guess who might run, but Tramantano at 11 years young and set only 10st 7lb is worth a second look. However it all ends up, the trainer and team are certainly going to be kept busy! A rare state of affairs but good to see.................

Weds 3rd: - I'm in a state of shock and need to go and lie down. It has just been brought to my attention that if you're prepared to part with £75 you can have breakfast with Carl Llewellyn! Now, many of the owners here would lean towards paying money not to have breakfast with the little wretch, but for "lovers of horse racing", as it's billed in the literature, head for Naunton, hand over the dosh, and consign yourself to 3 hours in the company of the ex-jockey cum Business Partner, with clogged arteries thrown in courtesy of Charlie's Hollow Bottom breakfast. For the unwary who may be sucked in by the lustre of LLewellyn's offering the advice is not to bring the wife/girlfriend. They're safer at home.The trainer, on learning of this little earner and not wanting to be left out, wondered what the going rate might be for an Audience with Saint Nigel.After all, if Carl's company commands £75 what must he be worth? Let me think about this while staring at the ceiling in my darkened padded cell..............

Tues 2nd: - the trainer's not due back 'til tomorrow afternoon and in his absence there's a degree of competition between the Head Lad and the Business Partner to place their respective hands on the tiller. It's not without its amusing moments as Ireland plays Wales in a very slow moving game of political manoeuvring to temporarily slip the prized duffel on. Today Fergal very kindly offered to get the weekly food shopping for me from Tesco's in Stow, a gesture which I swiftly accepted as the linen basket was overflowing with pants again and I needed to re-stock Nigel's knicker drawer before he got back. I wrote the list out for Tipperary's finest and when he returned a couple of hours later he'd added a large pizza as he was anticipating working late in the office while grappling again with the mysteries of the entry book.Some hours later, just after he'd worked out how to send a fax, he put his pizza in the microwave and prepared to tuck in to a well-earned supper, but when he took it out it was to find that it was bereft of topping. Well, all hell broke loose and the air was thick with gaelic expletives that quite made poor Mrs Merton blanch. He rang Tesco, got through to the manager and gave him terrible grief for their incompetence in selling him a nude pizza, ending with the demand that they deliver a replacement, complete with topping, immediately. The manager was at a loss to explain how a pizza comprising nothing but dough could possibly have left the premises and frankly was finding the whole episode difficult to believe. "Are you sure there's no topping, Mr O'Brien?"he asked. "What do you think I am - a fecking eejit?" came the response followed by, "Oh, hang on a minute, having just turned it over I've found it now"..............This apart it was a pretty quiet day as in common with most yards we're keeping our powder dry with Cheltenham now less than a fortnight away. Our only runner was the disappointing De Banja Man at Leicester and anyone who latched on to him being Paddy's only ride of the day as a tip in its own right was sadly way off track. Tomorrow we've only 1 again, this being The Gangerman in Folkestone's marathon in the mud, a workout that'll test the stamina of both horse and Paddy to the hilt. I'll be staying at home to welcome the trainer back and check if he fancies drying out after his schnapps-fest with the aid of some home made pizza with extra topping. Maybe Fergal will want to join us for another slice.............

Mon March 1st: - another month gone, but didn't February go out on a magnificent high? As if the shamrock hordes shoving it up England at Twickenham wasn't good enough we also snaffled our first Racing Post chase thanks to Razor Royale and an ultra determined ride from Paddy. So we could almost deem Saturday to be Paddyday- and very pleasurable it was too. Another aspect of Razor's hard fought win at Kempton was that it earned millionaire status for the trainer as win number 56 for the season tipped him over seven figures worth of prize money. At the same time it lifted him back to 3rd place in the trainers' table, skipping nimbly above Pipemajor and he's now within hailing distance of Lord Lambourn in 2nd so he was like a dog with several appendages when he shot of with Hobby for more frolics in the snow. A measure of his excitement at bagging the big chase can be gauged from the report that he ferreted around in the zip up pocket of his lederhosen on arrival at the ski chalet and bought all members of the party present (him and Hobby) a celebratory schnapps. Several jaws sagged in disbelief when this news filtered back to regulars in The Hollow Bottom........................saddling duties at Kempton were performed by Carl who wishes it to be known that he's not, as widely reported, assistant trainer, but officially trades under the more impressive soubriquet of "business partner". Failure to address him thus in future may result in him having a mini hissy fit and he may well nut you in the goolies as well.....................Of all the generally unimpressed media comment on the proposals to date from Racing For Loose Change, one of the most measured and objective was delivered in today's Telegraph by Aussie Jim McGrath. Succinctly summarised under the heading, "If it ain't broke why fix it?" one of his key points was that those generating this raft of daft proposals for change have a vested interest in generating their comic ideas. They're being well paid for the privelege so, as Jim says, "you can hardly expect these people to turn around and tell us that everything looks pretty good and then hand back their fat fees". The whole Racing For Loose Change set up has the whiff of Jobs For The Boys and is a waste of funds almost as scandalous as M P's expenses. Not to mention the commensurate insult to our collective intelligence.......

Sat 27th: - I hardly slept a wink last night. I've been badgered for ages by Roger, a local gamekeeper who gives off a faintly alluring odour of carcase, and finally agreed to have an evening out with him. The thought of those fingers, flexed by drawing a thousand rabbits' entrails, meant I had to give him a go sometime and I starched my girdle in anticipation. He took me to the cinema to see a film called The Road which is possibly the most depressing thing to cross my path since I first read about Racing For Loose Change. Should you be tempted to go take a blunt knife with you to slit your wrists, an experience you'll enjoy much more than the film. To cap it all I bent forward in the darkness to help myself to another malteser and my glass eye fell out into the box. Roger didn't notice this and with his next chocolatey grope ended up with a bit of me in his mouth. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but he was very good about it and wiped it on his hanky before giving me the eye. The whole experience was a bit traumatic, hence the resultant nightmares. Still, at least I was up early to get stuck into the chores which means I can post this quickie before pulling on my green knickers and heading for Twickers....... It looks to me as if Sam's got some decent chances at Chepstow today and I think I'll be tempted to have some of the housekeeping money on Moulin De La Croix who, being a daughter of our old stayer Brambly Hedge, should stay the 3 miles even in the Welsh glue pot. Sam's on a mission to ride in this year's National and needs 2 more winners to reach the qualifying mark. He could even get there today..............Even worse than watching The Road again is the thought of Racing For Loose Change continuing with their proposed team format competition - a concept from the realms of It's A Knockout, but on 4 legs although lacking the Tommo-esque input of Stuart Hall. The Racing Post reports that,"there is little enthusiasm amongst racing's stakeholders" for the project. You can say that again! Also standing up to be counted is the paper's edtor, BruceMillington, who reckons that the concept,"however well intended, threatens to attract only ridicule".Much like its authors I fear it already has........

Frii 26th: - Question. Is the paucity of prize money in U K racing more of a disgrace than the fact that Tony McCoy is now the mouthpiece for saying it? Food for thought as those who care about such things digest the headline in the Racing Post today. I doubt that anyone will take issue with McCoy's sentiments and such is his profile that for him to join the lobby is no bad thing, but where are the faces and voices of those in office at the BHA? Hang on a minute though, here comes the cavalry in the shape of Mr Bumble, who makes another cameo appearance by throwing his not inconsiderable weight behind McCoy and largely blaming racecourses for owners' current scant ROI. He may indeed have a valid point, but to then suggest that it's time for owners to "vote with their feet", in effect to implement the threat of turning their backs on racing, isn't going to frighten anyone. Why? Because nobody forces them into owning horses, that's why. The McCoy view that contributions to funding mechanisms to the Levy should be mandatory from racecourses (why not bookmakers too?) strikes me as being much more of a practical way forward. But my basic point is, why is this now being fronted by a jockey, albeit arguably the best we've seen. It just tends to highlight just how ineffective Racing's leadership is - and when you move on to Howard Wright's piece later in the paper about the lack of financial transparency at the BHA I just want to bury my face in my pinny and weep.........from the poop deck of the Titanic to the stage of a Brian Rix farce. This month's Owner & Breeder actually contains a reasonable amount of editorial about N H matters, including an interview with the trainer's bosom buddy, Philip Hobbs. But wait a tick, the headline to the article is Captain Sensible. What? Have you seen him and Saint Nigel when they get together in The Hollow Bottom? Sensible? I don't think so. And as for the tales from their skiing trips, well, Jackanory is pretty highbrow by comparison................Mention of The Hollow Bottom and I see that the pub's horse is back on the track at Kempton tomorrow, so Hugh and Charlie and the gang will be having a nerve-shredding day out. The trainer's not likely to be there, Hobby neither, because they're going off on the piste again. Listen carefully and you'll hear the juvenile cackling wafting across from The Alps. Captain Sensible and Saint Nigel loose on the slopes. It doesn't bear thinking about and I'll try not to as I'll be sloping off to Twickenham tomorrow to watch the Paddies deliver another blow for freedom............

Thurs 25th: - Carl was a bit perky riding out this morning, a sure sign that he'd had a productive evening yesterday. Goodness only knows what I'll find when I open up Llewellyn Towers tomorrow, but I'll take an anti-depressant and worry about it when I get there. He went off to Huntingdon to flex his little biceps saddling our only runner of the day, Jackie Boy, an entry which showed the trainer's renowned planning foresight by selecting the track closest to the owner's home. Additionally the plan reflected the horse's liking for a right hand course so it's just a pity that the gloopy going ended up being the fly in the ointment. Still, two out of three boxes ticked isn't bad. I'm sure Carl was his usual chirpy self and will already have looked up the date of Huntingdon's next meeting when the ground may have firmed up a bit. In which case he'll probably make an advance booking to invite himself back to the owner's place for tea to celebrate the unlikely coming together of the 3 key ingredients in yet another Grange Hill coup. You don't get this cerebral level of planning input everywhere, do you? Today was also useful for the wee one to practice taking over the reins when the trainer jets off to re-charge his batteries on the slopes at the weekend. He's ironed some knife-edged creases into his riding breeches and was spotted standing on a crate in front of one of his full length mirrors flexing his long tom and giving orders to an imaginary stable lass. Good taste prevents me telling you what he was requesting her to do, but it's good to see that he's taking his responsibilities so seriously...............Just for a laugh the trainer has decided to set us all a conundrum before he goes on the piste again, this in the shape of saddling three of the seven runners in the long distance chase at Warwick tomorrow. In comparison unscrambling the mysteries of Rubik's cube is a doddle..................A friend of mine who I share a hook with at the Caerphilly Crochet Club went to Huntingdon today anticipating a stress-free afternoon at the races. At 1.55 the P A system crackled into life to signal Derek Thompson's presence. And then it started raining...............

Weds 24th: - I spent a major portion of the morning trying to work out what day it was. No, I knew it was Wednesday because it said so on the front cover of the Racing Post, but it had a commemorative feel to it as well. For we had 8 runners today and 6 of them were decked out in the green and white stars of Raymond Mould, so I wondered whether this was a newly constituted public holiday or something akin to St George's Day. I even popped down to the shop in Guiting Power half expecting somebody to be there with a collecting box selling flags for Raymond Mould Day, but there wasn't anyone rattling a tin at me so I put it all down to coincidence. Raymond's sextet delivered just a 2nd place courtesy of Reland at Ludlow, so Feb 24th probably won't be deemed a public holiday or writ large in the Mould diary of equine performance.....................Just when we were glorying in the silence Racing For Loose Change bounces back with yet more plans to get racecourse turnstiles revolving at increased speed. Personally, I never thought I'd see the day when Paul Barber shared a stage with Jeremy Kyle (I doubt that he did either), but desperate times and all that. New Flat and Jumps Championships are the latest brain childs to emerge from this committee of the terminally bewildered. Nobody I know could give a monkey's about the former, but the "new" proposed Jumps championship period spanning Cheltenham's Open meeting in Oct and the Festival in March even raised the trainer's bushy eyebrows. So where does Aintree's National meeting fit in and does this mean that winners and prize money outside of this period just don't count? Some of the other "innovations" are simply too daft to bother with, but if team championships for Flat trainers are the way to attract new punters then that's another reason to hibernate in the summer. Of much more interest is the forthcoming Levy Board meeting when a trio of the BHA's finest will join battle with Bookmakers again with a "no rollover" agenda. I, along with many others, would like to believe them. History suggests otherwise and my money would be on The Ewe Inn's skittles team being more likely to get a result...... ..I'm beginning to think that the trainer's "morphed". Time was when Des Lynam's microphone was sufficient to induce paralysis of the larynx, but these days Saint Nigel twitters like a budgie at the very sight of a media hack. I heard him today talking up the chances of Khyber Kim and Imperial Commander for the big double at Cheltenham in 3 weeks. Wouldn't it be wonderful if it happened? Big Nose would never hear the end of it.............

Tues 23rd: - it doesn't take much to get the trainer excited - a large gin and soda if you're buying has often been known to do the trick - but he's particularly hyper at the moment and Queen Vic and I can only put this down to the scheduled weekend skiing jaunt with Hobby to that poser's playground, Val d'Isere. He's been paying an uncommon amount of interest to the Winter Olympics in Vancouver and obviously intends to try his hand at many of the events he's seen on the telly. Yesterday evening we couldn't stop him from a repetitive cycle of sliding down the stairs on a tin tray as the self-proclaimed warm favourite for Naunton's Luge competition for the mentally deranged. Needless to say he was hell-bent on winning, so much so that no other entries were allowed and eventually he went to bed grinning inanely and clutching a battered egg cup and the inevitable victor's digestive biscuit. When I looked in on him later to check he hadn't fallen out of bed he was lying there happily smiling up at his new Pingu mobile and gurgling something incomprehensible about Eddie the Eagle. Such a fertile imagination................ I was only thinking this morning that it had all gone very quiet over at Racing For Loose Change when, lo and behold, up they pop again like a demented jack-in-the-box. Today's Post contains the slightly less than riveting news that 8 racecourses are to offer free admission in the last week in April in a bid to attract "people who think racing's too expensive and the general public who've never been". As a gesture it's, well, a gesture, one that can't do any harm, but given the courses concerned they're none too exciting and one, Towcester, has offered free admission for years. So I'm somewhat underwhelmed and look forward more to the unveiling of the Kauto vs Denman promotional bandwagon which seems to have disappeared down a P R cul de sac.............. More joy today for Jilly Scott and co, young Sam T-D and my namesake, Banjaxed Girl, following another romp in the Southwell park where she chalked up her 5th win of the season and our 54th. She jumps, she gallops, she responds to pressure and never knowingly disappoints - just like me..........

Mon 22nd: - while it may not have been a "big" Saturday, not if measured solely in terms of winners, anyway, it was still a weekend to savour. Everything we ran on Saturday gave cause for satisfaction, none moreso than Little Josh at Haydock where, despite leaving a hole in the open ditch even bigger than Raymond Mould's wallet, he picked up the winning thread again to provide our 53rd success of the season. I must say that I was particularly thankful that I had my tightest fitting corset on when he chose to ignore that first ditch (never spilt a drop!) but Paddy sat tight and the housekeeping received a timely boost as a result. We can all eat next week - even the trainer before he jets off on the piste again to try and re-enact those bygone days when he and Hobbs were viewed as sex on skis, albeit only by each other. ..............as the countdown to Cheltenham continues it's encouraging to see the yard's horses returning home after racing having delivered performances that augur well for the contests ahead. A lot can happen in 3 weeks, but at this stage, and despite the worst that the weather can throw at us (snowed in again today) things are in reasonable shape for Prestbury's Olympics and we'll be going there with a healthy team in good heart and with high hopes of adding to our Festival record.............When I put my feet up for a coffee mid-morning to rest after a serious session of pummelling some much needed life support into Nigel's longjohns I thought I'd relax with the aid of Charlie Brooks' column in the Telegraph. He's not short of an opinion, is he? Without any "insider" knowledge I'd be willing to have a fair sized slice of my meagre weekly wage that he's a mate of Piers Morgan, another who sees it as his role in life to pass comment on anything and everything, requested or not, and generally in a manner that's guaranteed to irritate the hell out of the targeted recipient. Don Ditcheat must be exceedingly grateful to Brooks for his helpful advice that he slap a pair of blinkers on Denman for the Gold Cup, so much so that Don has already elicited his response via the Racing Post website. I think this can safely be translated as, "bugger off and mind your own business", a course of action which the likes of Brooks and Morgan would comprehend, but completely ignore in the sure and certain knowledge that their opinion is the only one worth a toss. I wonder who coined the phrase, "ignorance is bliss"? Whoever it was obviously never had the pleasure of Charlie or Piers..........

Fri 19th: - Richard Austen, one of the Post's platoon of pundits, gave cause for wry amusement the other day with his thoughts on the weekly Punting Highs and Lows he'd encountered. His "low" was driving to Newbury last weekend fervently hoping that he wouldn't be subjected to an afternoon listening to the ramblings of Derek Thompson auditioning on the P A system. Vain hope, Richard! It's vaguely reassuring that professional scribes share the view and it's not just me. Would that someone had pulled the plug on the Big Fella and done us all a favour.................inspiring to read that Guy Disney, he of the one and a half legs as the result of a Taliban bomb, is back in the saddle and scheduled to ride in a charity race at Fakenham today. Guy's been preparing for his come back by riding out for Big Nose down the road at Andoversford and both trainer and jockey can be justifiably proud of their efforts on behalf of Help For Heros and the Countryside Alliance............. I began the day with the intention of getting along to Sandown and threw myself into the early chores in the hope that I'd be clear in time to squeeze in the horsebox with Gilbert. However, that little Lothario, Llewellyn, put the kybosh on that little plan. When I raced down there to do my Friday best it was to confront what appeared to be the aftermath of a toga party. All it needed was Caligula and a donkey, but credit to the assistant trainer - he was riding out with his usual clear head and chippy demeanour. Truly remarkable stamina and powers of recovery..............It's fingers crossed that Ascot and Haydock get the all clear for racing tomorrow as we've got some interesting runners at both venues. I'm particularly looking forward to seeing Little Josh back in action, but Kayf Aramis, Ballyfitz and Pettifour are also leaving Naunton in the morning with high hopes. The trainer's due a "big" day so hopefully the weather, at least, will play its part.............

Thurs 18th: - the sight of 61 year old Godfrey Maundrell still booting home the winners at a rate of knots is an example to all, particularly those of mature years in racing who's most active performances, in the saddle at least, are but an increasingly hazy memory. I mentioned Godfrey's deeds to Nigel this morning and suggested, almost straight faced, that with young Sam among the winners it wouldn't be too late for Twiston-Davies senior to join him in some father & son bonding in the saddle. "Too fat", was all he said, a riposte which may well have been aimed in my direction as my double strength roll-on was in the wash at the time and I wasn't looking quite as trim as normal. However, with Lent almost upon us I think he should consider a change of lifestyle and set himself some targets. The cabbage soup diet, whilst doing the ozone layer no favours, would shed a bit of weight and then all he'd have to do would be to go to the gym a bit and ensure that he didn't transgress on the alcohol front before mounting. Oh well, it seemed a good idea at the time...............Colin Russell's piece in the Post the other day about the vagaries and inadequacies of Race Planning must have struck a chord with trainers up and down the country and is worthy of further thought and action. It contained an awful lot of common sense. Rightly or wrongly, fairly or unfairly, Race Planning takes a lot of stick from disgruntled owners and trainers who can't find suitables races for their horses. Some of these problems would indeed seem to be self-induced, with geographical "clashes" and similar race conditions within days followed by nothing for weeks being regular features, which makes something of a mockery of the term "planning". Often there doesn't appear to be much! So Colin's proposal that there should be a more flexible approach to race conditions in order that horses, particularly those with "problem" ratings, be afforded more opportunites to run, is one that the BHA should seriously examine......................I was hoping to get off to Ffos Las today, but I'm all behind - as he so amusingly likes to point out! He's grabbed the opportunity to get back to the Fatherland, however, and will probably come home singing, particularly if we can conjure up another winner. Young Sam again, perhaps?...............

Weds 17th:- as I feared, when he finally got home from the National Weights Lunch it was as the receptacle for more drink than a gypsy's handbag. But at least he slept well as the oblivious meat in a doggy sandwich made up by Queen Vic's panting hounds. Breakfast this morning was a muted affair to start with but once he'd located his mouth with the second eggy soldier ( the first one went in his ear) he warmed to the subject of the yard's Grand National entries. This year we've entered seven as we bid to add to our two previous wins in the World's greatest race and being the unselfish housekeeper cum pundit that I am I'm prepared to share my thoughts on their respective chances. The talented but inconsistent grey, Beat The Boys, is our highest weighted on 11 stone and has every chance if on a "going" day but my Welsh waters wonder whether he'll take to the fences. Ballyfitz is next on 10st 9lb , which he'll hardly notice, but he's had his problems with park fences so could be a candidate to head butt the first ditch at Aintree. He'll want it soft regardless. Wee Ollie Magern would jump over a house if you asked him, but at 12 Father Time is making his presence felt even though Ollie will be thinking he's running free with just 10st 9lb. Irish Raptor, who's shown his liking for the big fences before, and Razor Royale have both been allocated 10st 7lb, a lovely racing weight which should get them into the race's 40 runner line up. Similarly Hello Bud on 10st 6lb who'd be hoping for good ground to try and supplement his previous win in the Scottish National, but he too is in the veteran category. Lastly we have the classy but ageing Knowhere who's extremely well handicapped but isn't likely to make the cut. At this stage I lean towards the two on 10st 7lbs, but with 8 weeks still to go I think I'll worry about Cheltenham first.................Appearance on the Cold Trainer's List is an indication that winners haven't exactly been flowing. To be more accurate, they've been non-existent. Never the less it strikes me as being a bit harsh on the trainer that he found himself in the freezer after going just 9 days without visiting the winner's enclosure. Fortunately for him son and heir, Sam, came galloping to the rescue on Moulin De La Croix at Leicester with an inspired ride that prevailed by a nose. Some fine leaps, including a race-winning one at the last ditch aided by a rare rattle on the run in saw stable followers rewarded at a tasty 8/1 compared to the Post's forecast of 7/2. Just a pity I wasn't one of them...............

Tues 16th: - The creative depth and breadth shown by the ranks of the trainers never ceases to amaze me. However, I suppose that a reasonable level of mental agility comes as second nature to the licenced fraternity given that they're consistently having to deliver instant explanations of the ilk of too far/not far enough, too soft/too quick, better the other way round, best held up/best in front etc etc. And with Nigel, of course, the creativity isn't just confined to the racecourse - hours spent in The Hollow Bottom staying well clear of the bar are proof positive that the brain never sleeps. He may look a bit vacant, but he's always in there -somewhere! His old mate Kim Bailey reveals similar levels of cerebral dexterity in the wording of his new advert in The Racing Post which runs every time he welcomes back a winner, which with 14 so far this season does at least mean that his advertising budget, like Nigel's bar bill at the pub, is kept under reasonable control. The strap line of Big Nose's advert used to be Kim Bailey Is Back ,but he obviously had a thought one day that this prompted the question amongst interested parties, "well, where's he been then?" So now, in a stroke of genius presumably inspired by an idle owner who once purported to be in advertising, he's come up with a Star Wars-type replacement, Kim Bailey Strikes Again. Good eh, and it set me thinking that Saint Nigel could do something similar to add yet more lustre to the most famous hyphenated surname in Naunton. I put it to him over breakfast when the owl-like countenance, as ever, made it anyone's guess whether the cogs were turning or not, but later on when he'd left for London I found a few scribbles on the back of an unpaid tax demand which indicated that he'd been giving it some thought. Get On With Twist On, Mine's A Double and Winners At The Duffel didn't immediately strike me as quite fitting the bill. I think Queen Vic had better send him along to see Big Nose where he could maybe borrow his book, Headlines Wot I Rote, to inspire him to higher literary peaks. Then, of course, he'll have to fund an advertising budget. So that's the end of that then.............He went to the Grand National Weights Lunch today so I haven't bothered with supper. He's always in a right state when he gets in from that - not that he's one to take advantage of a free bar or anything. He'll probably abuse the handicapper followed by the owners and won't remember anything about it in the morning - until he reads about it in the papers. A third National would be nice though, wouldn't it?..........

Mon 15th: - history shows that the world has always been liberally sprinkled with the uncouth, the obnoxious and the deeply unpleasant - excluding Wales, of course, where we're all exceptionally nice and much loved, especially me and mum.The list of the recoilingly odious would include the likes of Adolph Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Idi Amin, Piers Morgan, Jonathan Ross, Dale Winters and now the most objectionable of them all, the bloke on the door of the Owners & Trainers bar on the first floor of Newbury's Berkshire stand. What a category 1 plonker! On Saturday I'd arranged to meet a number of similarly stylish friends in said venue and duly presented myself with complimentary O & T's badge only to be rebuffed by this git because it wasn't being recognised that day. Enquiries as to what was the point, therefore, of it being issued in the first place were simply rebutted by this mutant, who after long years of practice has successfully honed the word "Officious" into an art form. I tried a different tack. "Look my good man, there are my friends over there at that table waving at me. Is it in order for me to converse with them?" "No. You're not coming in here today". "Well, here is my ROA card proving that I'm a fully paid up bone fide owner of horse flesh. May I now enter this obviously sacrosanct area that you so obviously view as your own?" " No, you're not coming in here today". So I hitched up my skirts and took my custom to the O & T's bar down by the paddock where they know a lady when they see one and where they happily welcomed me in. That was as good as the day went. My friends' horse fell and the whole afternoon was conducted against the backdrop of Derek Thompson interviewing a succession of poor sods in his inimitable style, his repertoire including reference to the going stick and a hearty chuckle about penetration. Ye Gods! If I never go to Newbury again it will be too soon. And the Racing For Loose Change gang wonder why racecourse attendances aren't all that they could be.............. All in all it was a funny old day, with Denman's fall threatening to blow a hole below the waterline in the anticipated marketing plan of the Gold Cup "shoot out" against Kauto Star. True to form, however, Racing For Loose Change's P R guru aims to continue with this latest example of Comic Cuts on the basis that Denman's hiccup is not a major problem. Which merely underlines how they consistently underrate the intelligence of the average prospective racegoer in the street.Truly they are on a completely different wavelength..............sad to hear of the passing of Pembrokeshire-born jockey and literary colossus, Dick Francis at the age of 89. To underline the fact that he was from a different, less pressurised era, he was champion jockey in 1953/4 wih just 76 wins, a total which today would find him placed 4th in the table, 7 behind Jason Maguire and 88 behind the incomparable leader, Tony McCoy. That it was a different world when he was riding is taken as read. That he always behaved impeccably and was a sportsman in every sense in the most testing circumstances is also true of a remarkable man. He'll be much missed, but John Randall's eloquent obituary in today's Post does him full justice...............

Fri 12th: - I'm really starting to worry. A Valentine's card has arrived which has left my good eye permanently peering over my shoulder in search of the infatuated sender. In fact, and I have this on good authority from Mrs Merton, several Valentines arrived for my attention but that little wretch Llewellyn walked off with most of them and has them on display at his place in an attempt to convince gullible visitors that he has more admirers than me. As if! The one card he left me, though, is likely to be from that nutter who doubtless thinks he's in with a chance of a grope under my apron. The next step will likely be flowers and before we know what's happening he'll be loitering with intent on the gallops mentally undressing me. Well, the facts of the matter are that it takes me the best part of half an hour to undo the rubber buttons on my vest and ooze out of my corsets when I undress at night. So with this stalker obviously fantasising about what lays beneath Bronwen's bustle my advice to him would be to put several hours aside as it'll be a long process. I'm not doing much tonight as it happens..........But I do have plenty planned for the weekend and it culminates in Grab A Shepherd night at The Ewe Inn on Sunday. I don't want to miss this as it's always a sure fire "result", although Ivor the Boot nearly spoiled it last time when he cheated and came disguised as an Alsatian. Before that I've got to decide between Newbury and Warwick tomorrow and as Carl's doing the saddling at Newbury and I've not seen much of him lately, possibly because there isn't much to see, I think I'll head for Berkshire. There'll be a big crowd there so I'm going to suggest that he walks around under a large multi-coloured umbrella so that I can locate him amongst all those larger people. We've got some interesting runners at both tracks. Dear old Ollie will be doing his best as ever against Denman and Frontier Dancer could run a deal better than his odds might suggest in the big handicap hurdle at Newbury. While across at Warwick Buck The Legend showed signs last time that he's on the way back and young Sam will see if can find the key to Pigeon Island. It's going to be a stressful 48 hours and I only hope that my girdle's up to coping with the pressure...........

Thurs 11th: - it was no great surprise that the trainer's return from Ludlow was conspicuous by the absence of pork pies in his pockets. He had, however, attempted to compensate for this by returning to Grange Hill Farm with a quantity of roast beef and jus(what we know at The Ewe Inn as gravy), but as this was distributed largely down his tie it only generated interest from Queen Vic's dogs as opposed to my finely toned stomach. As a lady who's got a bit of a reputation for being able to do a rewarding turn in the kitchen the lack of substance from Ludlow didn't phase me. But with the fridge contents totalling just a half tin of Chum and a curly ham sandwich with advanced gangrene I simply hitched my skirt up and headed for Thr Hollow Bottom for a portion of Charlie's Ostrich ragout followed by Crocodile fricasee and Kudu crumble. You just can't beat the best of local produce, can you?.................It's been a quiet week on the Racing front as winter refuses to roll over and this has been nowhere better illustrated than in the content of the Racing Post. An adequate reflection of "a quiet news week" can be drawn from today's front page which was dominated by the headline that JP has bought a bumper horse and kept Made In Time with Rebecca Curtis in the homeland and the even less riveting news that with February not half done and Cheltenham 5 weeks off there's an interview inside with Aidan O'Brien, for pity's sake! There'd be more interest generated if they sent someone down to do a Through The Keyhole piece with Nigel - but not as much as if they did one with Carl. Now that really would put Racing on the front pages....... Only the one meeting today with Paddy diverting to Huntingdon following Taunton succumbing to the elements, but Jump Jet failed to ignite for him. The delights of Bangor and its picturesque stand, namely a grass bank, await him tomorrow along with the unique demands of getting a tune out of The Gangerman. He'll be really looking forward to it - better than any workout in the gym - and it's taken as read that the riding fee will be well and truly earned. In effect a bit of unpaid overtime, which is generally my lot in life,so it'll be good to see a fellow sufferer working up a sweat...........

Weds 10th: - it's not often that Alastair Down's views on the vagaries of life in Racing leave me perplexed, but his article in yesterday's Post succeeded in comprehensive fashion. Something about the output from the P A system on racecourses generally had upset the sagely scribe, the problem being that having read the feature a couple of times I still hadn't the faintest idea what it was that was causing him such angst. It was probably me having another of my senior moments and failing to spot the blindingly obvious, but I can't say that I've found racecourse announcements generally a cause for irritation across the years. It wasn't so long ago, after all, that the tracks were getting stick for not telling anybody anything, so if they're now doing the opposite, even in patronising mode, it's a step forward in my view. A far greater source of annoyance when racing, worse even than children running amok, the bloke on the door of the Owners & Trainers bar at Newbury, and vacant half-wits clogging up Tote queues with only the haziest idea of what they might want to back, is that geriatric oompah band that sits by the paddock exit at Cheltenham. Now they really have perfected the art of irritation. The artistes, I use the word loosely, should be whisked unceremoniously to the stable block, dope tested(a formality because they'll all be positive) and then have their respective instruments inserted sideways, without anaesthetic, into a repository in keeping with their skills.................I'm so fearful of going to the races now that this stalker has appeared on the scene that I'm giving Ludlow a miss today. I'll have a lie down while the trainer's out as a rest will do me good and I'll look forward to the pork pie that he said he'd bring back for me.The Ludlow pies are real medal winners - almost as good as the mutton and potato pasties that mum makes - and that's as classy a yardstick for a pie as you'll find. He'll probably forget, of course, blaming the stress of having to saddle 4 runners, but a surfeit of roast beef and claret is a more likely cause. If he remembers to come home with a winner I'll forgive him............

Tues 9th: - it was while washing my glass eye this morning that inspiration dawned. All I have to do to secure a defence against the stalker is change my identity. Simple! For if I make myself look a little different the dog won't recognise the rabbit, so to speak, and I'll be able shimmy round the race course without having to continually look over my shoulder. So when I'd slipped my eye back in I took my teeth out and took stock in the mirror. In my view I looked sufficiently different while still maintaining that hint of Welsh promise, but thought it best to try my "new" look out on Nigel over breakfast. So I sat opposite him at the table and gave him an alluring grin. He gave me a gummy grin back. Bloody hell - he didn't have his teeth in either! Then I noticed his teeth by the side of his cereal bowl and remembered that he always took them out when he had cornflakes. At this point the exercise went pear shaped as Queen Vic joined us complete with her own teeth and thought it would be funny if she swapped the teeth over when we weren't looking. As it turned out Nigel didn't even notice, but his dentures didn't do much to enhance me so I think I'll opt for the Marlon Brando look in The Godfather instead and buy some cotton wool. Also Nigel's gnashers came with a hint of gin and it was a bit early in the morning for that - even for me..........after Queen Vic had recovered from the hysteria of her little jape the day went downhill. I wondered whether to go to Market Rasen and watch Timmy Murphy - such artistic hands - but I'm always a bit wary of venturing into the Fens. It's no place for an attractive single lady- too much arable and not enough sheep breeds some strange types........... therefore I did my chores and watched our 3 runners at Sedgefield, but only Moulin De La Croix and the infant prodige threatened to get involved, so in the final analysis it was a 450 round mile trip for not a lot. Tomorrow should be better as Ludlow's a relative stone throw away and Nigel likes the roast beef there. I hope he'll have the right teeth in............

Mon 8th: - as if there wasn't enough trouble in my life I now find out that an admirer is dogging my footsteps. Were he simply dogging it would be much more fun. However, sad to relate this smitten person is bent only on following me around racecourses cast in the mode of a stalker and it's an unnerving experience for me I can tell you. I don't mind being watched, in fact on occasions I've quite enjoyed it, but when the identity of the voyeur is a total mystery it all gets a bit spooky. Thus when I visited Towcester last week I had no idea that some crazed psycho was there too, trying to spy on me from a distance and apparently hoping to engage me in conversation over a drink. I'm going to have to go incognito in future, either by indulging in a bit of cross dressing or changing my headscarf. On reflection the safest thing would be to stay close to Nigel when I go racing and treat him as a sort of minder. After all, nobody's going to come too close with him in that duffel coat, are they?...........young Sam and my namesake, Banjaxed Girl, kept the scoreboard ticking over today when they made just about every yard to score comfortably in a mares' novice hurdle at Southwell. Owner Jilly Scott and her partners are having such fun with Banjaxed whose style of running suggests the best is yet to come and who was aided by Sam's claim and another positive ride. The boy done good.............John Randall's piece in today's Post about the early years of the Totesport Trophy (a k a The Schweppes if you've been around the block a few times) set the memory cells stirring. I remember seeing the first running of the race at Aintree when Stan Mellor got absolutely buried riding, if my recall is up to it, a horse called Eastern Harvest. In a field of 41 (!!) he was lucky to escape with only a broken jaw. The race became infamous across its first runnings for becoming the property of Ryan Price who wasn't averse to pulling a stunt or two. What a character he was - not bad for somebody who wasn't even Welsh!.................

Sat 6th/Sun 7th: - all of a tiz this weekend - a blur of racing, socialising, a hot date last night and now an invite for Sunday lunch, but only after I've cleaned up the debris from yesterday. How come there's so much mess when everyone was dispersed across Sandown, Doncaster and Wetherby? I'm beginning to wonder whether the saintly Nigel just pretends to go racing and really hides behind the horsebox and sneaks back in when it's all clear. Something's got to explain the trail of bottles, betting slips and boxers that greeted me when I stumbled down to face another morning. Or maybe the ghost of Grange Hill has been at it again. Still, he was quite ebullient when I pointed out to him that Babysitter's win at Wetherby had posted our half century for the season and kept us clinging to 3rd place in the table just ahead of the Pipemajor. Lord Lambourn has put a bit of daylight between us in 2nd, but had a bit of a mixed day yesterday. Have his horses gone off the boil a bit for the moment and reined back to a gentle simmer? Possibly, but Don Ditcheat's still setting a searching gallop at the head of affairs as the Cheltenham countdown gathers pace............. I sneaked along to Sandown yeaterday ostensibly to watch young Sam's debut ride round the tricky Esher circuit on Razor Royale, something which was obviously playing on his mum's mind as she toddled along too, but probably not in Sam's van. Cathy, as ever, looked as fit as a butcher's dog and best turned out would have been a formality had there been one. Sam's first ride didn't go quite as he'd have wished - a bit slow away then rushing Razor into contention on the 2nd circuit before a shuddering error at the middle one of the railway fences effectively ended his chance. It's all valuable experience and I'm sure his mum still gave him his cocoa and read him a bedtime story.............I was thinking during the heat of battle with my hot date last night ('cos frankly I've had better and thought it rude to read a book over his shoulder) that Educated Evans is something of an odd name for a horse - particularly when you're hoping to sell it. It's a bit of a misnomer, don't you think? Perhaps a bit of Welsh influence behind the handle for our recent Towcester debutant, but "educated"? Here at Grange Hill Farm around which Mensa has drawn a 5 mile security zone? I don't think so. To help out I'll slap a For Sale notice up in the public bar of The Ewe Inn next time I'm there. They're full of Evans, most of them good - and I should know.........

Fri 5th: - it being Friday I had to brace myself this morning and head down to Carl's. I'll tell you one thing - I didn't stay long! I know he's been landed with some long trips this week - Exeter, Wincanton and all points west - and therefore hasn't had much time to clear up, but the place looked as though John Terry had just played extra time in another tricky away fixture. It's not as though I've led a very sheltered life, or anything, but I couldn't wait to get back up to the office to tell Mrs Merton all about it over a recuperative cuppa. She probably thought I was making it up, but I tell you what - the little fella knows how to have a good time......... young Sam was off early today and for one dreadful moment I thought he was going to ask me if I'd like to go to Catterick with him in his van, but I needn't have worried as he ended up going in the horsebox with Gilbert . It would have been strange going back to Catterick after all these years. The last time I was there me and mum had to climb over the barbed wire to get into the barracks, but it was all in a good cause and well worth getting to know many of the upstanding members of the Yorkshire Regiment. Bring back National service, I say, though mum always maintained it was a national service - and a rewarding one at that. No rewards for Sam, however, as he was unplaced in the bumper on Desolait, whose dam was Peter Orton's grand old staying mare, Brambly Hedge.............once they'd all gone racing I managed to get some time to read Alastair Down's trip down memory lane courtesy of his interview with Andy Turnell. When I was a slip of a girl back home Bob Turnell was my hero, Alastair's too apparently, so we both share a weakness for Jim Joel's "black, scarlet cap" and the memories of some great horses of the ilk of Salmon Spray, The Laird, Bowgeeno, Rondetto and possibly the best of them all, Buona Notte. I remember the tears when the latter broke his neck in the Great Yokshire Chase at Doncaster when the race was still one of the season's highlights. Prior to this he'd been involved in one of the best finishes I ever saw when the mighty Arkle tried valiantly to give lumps of weight to Flying Wild and Turnell's young pretender up Cheltenham's hill in what was then the Massey Ferguson. All of which tellingly reveals that I'm not as young as I look...........we've runners all over the country tomorrow topped off by Musselburgh on Sunday when Baccalaureate attempts to follow up last week's 100/1 surprise. It'll be similar odds against the trainer taking in the Scottish air, I fancy,so I wonder who's in line for that gig?.........

Thurs 4th: - I got the feeling over breakfast that he was feeling a bit embarassed about my losing out on the equivalent of several weeks wages on Viking Blonde. So when he offered me a day in his company at Towcester I took it as a sign of repentance and gleefully nipped upstairs to don fresh tights and corset for a grand day out with the boss. I should have known better! First up he omitted to tell me that we'd be driven to the course by young Sam T-D, just a month on from passing his test, but the real gusset-wrencher came in the shape of Sam's transport - a white van with a mattress in the back."You get in the back", said Sam. Well, I may have been in the back of a few vans across the years,more than I can remember if I'm honest, but I sure as hell wasn't getting in this one. He must have thought I'd just fallen off the Christmas tree - can you imagine what people would say if I was seen getting out of the back of a Twiston-Davies van? I've got my repuation to think of, you know. In the end, after much posturing and argument, we all sat in the front rubbing thighs. It was quite cosy really. Then, to cap it all, we get to the course and I somehow end up buying the trainer a roast pork bap complete with crackling and extra stuffing. Who was it said, "there's no such thing as a free lunch?" Well there is for him - and on my pittance of a wage too.............meanwhile events out on the track were almost as unfathomable, which for Towcester at this time of year is not a bad description. Some joker had the official going as "soft, heavy patches", to which I can only say that they're still looking for a couple of fallers out in the country. Flanders sprang to mind, ground which wasn't really made for our runners, but they all acquitted themselves well considering. Highlight of the day was seeing dear old Jim Old declare 2 horses, actually run them both and go home with a double. One of them was the first produce of Hannigan's Lodger who Nigel trained with success some years ago, so in the end it was a day to remember - for all sorts of reasons............although there was hardly room to open the paper, I read the Steve Dennis interview with Barry Dennis in the Post on the way home. Dennis the bookie is one of those characters, like McCririck, that you either love or hate. Loud, brash and always having a view, I quite like him and get the impression that there's a fair amount of sense spouted amongst all that hot air. Racing For Loose Change could do worse than sign him up - they could hardly do any worse than their current efforts. As the ad says, "Everyone's got an opinion". He has, and unlike some, he's prepared to stand up and let you know what it is.............

Weds 3rd:- there can be only one question on your mind having read today's Racing Post, namely,"where was Saint Nigel when the rest of Jumping's great and good were recording Cheltenham's re-vamped anthem in a West End recording studio yesterday?" "Couldn't be arsed", would be a popular answer, but not totally true in this instance. For while Don Ditcheat and Lord Lambourn, amongst others, were warbling amateurishly in the name of charity the sharp observer will have noted that the Welsh, to a man, gave the event a united swerve. The reason is very simple and is founded on pride. We can sing, the English and Irish can't, and the trainer wasn't willing to prostitute his well oiled larynx for a tuneless and repetitve chant of "Chelt-num". For once in his life he might actually have erred on the side of good taste............I was looking forward to a bit of peace and quiet this afternoon, but then Leicester was abandoned which put the kybosh on Sam's chance of another winner and meant that the trainer stayed home and generally got in the way. He'd already sent Carl to Exeter with our 2 runners so had nobody to play with apart from Queen Vic, who was obviously hoping for a rest as well. In desperation she got his crayons out and set him the task of colouring in the owners' silks, which was fine until he got Caroline Mould's wrong, had a tantrum and threw his crayons on the floor. To appease him she let him watch the racing from Exeter and as I could do with a boost to the contents of my meagre purse I enquired of him whether Viking Blonde had any chance. "He'll probably get stuck in the mud", he grunted while sucking on his gobstopper. After the horse had hosed up at 20/1 under a terrific ride from Paddy to edge us closer to the half century, I asked myself, not for the first time, whether he even knew what day it was...........I must write myself a note as a reminder to respond to Mark Winstanley's Monday poser, "Does anybody give a toss about Meydan?" the new Dubai racecourse playground for Sheikh Mohammed and his mates. An emphatic, "No", Couch, at least not round here, and if you'd care to pop over some time we could canoodle on the settee and slag it off together. It's nice to find some common ground with the big man at last..............

Tues 2nd: - the thud on the doormat first thing this morning wasn't that of the trainer returning from The Hollow Bottom, it signalled the arrival of the latest edition of Owner & Breeder. February's issue, with a new editor in place and coming in the midst of the Jumps season was bound to be an improvement on what's gone before. Silly me! A couple of features on Paul Nolan and Sam Thomas plus the seemingly obigatory picture of Kauto Star and that's about it. As ever it's dominated by Flat matters - and very flat most of them are. Both Mr Bumble's monthly piece and the inaugural offering from John Maxse (The Maxse Factor - ouch!) could only bleat plaintively for support and tolerance for the nonsense that's coming out of Racing For Loose Change. All in all a thudding disappointment, but nothing new there...............It's probably something to do with age, or maybe the hormones are particularly awry at the moment, but surely I can't be alone in thinking that this Denman vs Kauto confrontation is entering the realms of farce. Yesterday I felt a tinge of pity for Post columnist Lee Mottershead, a talented hack, who was obviously lobbed the unenviable task of generating something vaguely sensible out of the great Gold Cup scarf race. "The nation is torn in its support of the 2 chasers", he wittered, a verdict drawn from analysis of a total of 826 votes delivered by 826 very sad people. The nation torn? I don't think so. Incredulous at what it's witnessing more like, particularly when it learns from Rebecca Morgan, Cheltenham's scarf supremo, that, "this is the first time the racing public have been able to vote on the subject, so I think it's quite significant". About as significant as a vow of fidelity from John Terry, I'd say, but there's no escaping the grim prospect of us all having to get used to 6 more weeks of Scarfgate........And did you see that letter in the Post the other day which Alastair Down put under the spotlight in his column today? Penned by a guy by the name of Harry Chisman, who's probably a direct descendent of Ghengis Khan if his "disgusted of the Cotswolds" tone is anything to go by, his basic premise that Racing's leaders were all a bunch of plonkers had a seam of sense running through it that I initially warmed to. Unfortunately Harry's panacea to the current ills, once we'd ousted the plonkers, was to write to him and rally to his flag in order that he could lead us into a glorious future. Is it me, or is the lunacy level getting out of hand out there?..........we had 2 runners today at Taunton but you'd have needed a tasty radar system to spot either of them. It's been that sort of day, but the upside is that at least there hasn't been a scarf in sight..............

Mon Feb 1st: - Well, that's better! A weekend under the tender care of Nigel in his Nurse Cratchit mode has got me back to rude health - and the horses are starting to bloom again too. I must say that the trainer was more sympathetic to my discomfort than most men of my experience and his feminine side certainly came to the fore. When I explained that the hot flushes and sweats that I was suffering were par for the course in ladies of my age and experience he wasn't the least bit phased. He just threw a bucket of water over me and told Mrs Merton to get Ben Brain to check me over. The thought of a thorough vetting from Ben is remedial enough on its own. I can hardly wait!

While I was laying in bed being pathetic there was much to report from outside, both on the gallops and at the races, where the freezing temperatures kept hot flushes at bay. After applying his medical skills to revive me the trainer disappeared into the pre-dawn darkness to play with his tractor by harrowing the icy gallops. Watching from the sanctity of my bedroom I wasn't alone in wondering whether Lord Lambourn or Don Ditcheat are ever similarly pressed to display their agricultural skills when it's minus 6. Somewhat doubtful methinks. The arrival of daylight also brought the arrival of a coach load of owners who I initially thought must have got lost on their way to Jackdaws Castle. They looked a cut above most of the owners we normally get here - some of them were even wearing ties for goodness sake. I reckon they were from Million In Mind, something that resonates sympathetically with Nigel's wallet, but he was having such fun in his tractor that he left Sparky to do the gallops narrative and took a break from extending his communication skills. Things then went from the bizarre to the totally unbelievable when we had a 30 minute across the card double in the afternoon at odds of 1-3 and 100-1! My namesake, Banjaxed Girl, and young Sam did what they were expected to do at Uttoxeter, but Bacalaureate and Paddy's success at headquarters can safely be said to be something of a shock. But a rather nice one, not least for Chris Coley and his sorry crew, after all, when did we last saddle a 100-1 winner? It came as no surprise when the Cheltenham stewards asked Nigel to trot along and see them and inevitably the thought was that he was going to have to explain the horse's improved form. This wasn't the case. The stewards were more concerned in seeking an assurance that in future he'd make some attempt to dress properly and duly reported him for inciting unrest by wearing a duffel coat in public. He was reported to the style police but let off with a caution................

Mon 18th: - Ffos Las was good even if it didn't yield us that elusive winner. Babysitter, despite the apposite assistance of being saddled by Carl with his healthy interest in the young, ran okay but just missed out on a first 3 finish so the run now stretches into the 50's. However, this is nothing to get worked up about and certainly nowhwere near the level of '98 when the trainer was on suicide watch after saddling 72 runners without success. According to Mrs Merton this sort of thing is character building, but the trainer's arguably a large enough character already and he'd probably bite your hand of for a walkover at the moment just to move on. He's back towards the end of the week and the scoreboard will start ticking over again from the current, seemingly becalmed, tally.

It would seem that whatever idea Racing For Loose Change floats off for media exposure to the masses there are plenty who'll kick it straight back at them with vociferous disagreement. Claire Balding was recently as supportive as anyone has been when she advocated free/reduced racecourse admission prices for students, thus putting her weight behind the much vaunted "get 'em young" initiative. Well, it's an obvious fact of life that for markets to thrive they need a constant influx of fresh blood and this inevitably means the introduction of a younger audience. But hang on a minute, surely it ain't that simple? Claire's assertion that more intelligent, better educated students should be the target assumes that somehow they're going to be interested in Racing regardless, but why should this be? You're either into a sport or you're not and I don't see that you can somehow inject an interest based purely on supposed intellect. I've got absolutely no interest in motor racing, so much so that even if somebody sent a chauffeured limo to drive me door to door and gave me free entrance I wouldn't go. I'd rather sit at home and crochet a new bodice. In any event why does Racing necessarily want to attract more debt to an already financially ravaged sport in the shape of lots of students with stonking great loans and overdrafts? This question has been posed more than once on the letters page of the Post and seems a perfectly valid one to me.The other key point is that before you endeavour to attract new punters to any market it's best to ensure that the component parts of what they sample are sufficient to encourage repeat purchase. For Racing the fundamentals include transport/car parking, adequate toilet facilities, good quality refreshments and an environment that eliminates queues. Oh, and some quality racing - and horses - wouldn't go amiss. Until this is all in place, it really doesn't matter who you try and attract - you won't convert them whatever their age.......

 

Sat 16th: - I heard a piece on radio the other day, the nub of which was that we should feel sorry for bookmakers whose turnover has taken a hit during the recent freeze. To which all I can say is, "what about the jockeys?" Some of them based in the north haven't seen any action for a month, but the biggest (or smallest!) loser of the latest ice age is surely Sam Twiston-Davies. My matronly heart goes out to the poor little lad who, instead of bunking off to the racecourse most days, has had to go to school instead.

With Nigel on the piste again I'm tempted to be a bit naughty and disappear home for the weekend, the moreso as Ffos Las is scheduled to race tomorrow and I'm keen to take a look at Wales' new turf baby. I might even give mum a spin if she's up for it as long as she promises not to overload her invalid chair with drink. It's so embarassing when she keeps clinking round the paddock and throwing the empty bottles over her shoulder. I get enough of that here. Fergal's I/C with the trainer away, but he won't have a problem with me having the weekend off, particularly as I'm not going to tell him. Carl, of course, is entertaining at home so he won't see daylight for 48 hours. It would be rather apt, would it not, were Babysitter to end our drought in the first race tomorrow, as most of Carl's dates fall into that category. With any luck we'll both be on a winner.......

Fri 15th: - when I saw the headline, "We don't know whether he's alive or dead" in the Post this morning I thought that the paper must have sent down a reporter, unannounced, to chat to the trainer. Turns out that the story related to a horse that's gone AWOL, but Nigel's given cause for concern before in The Hollow Bottom, so it gave me a bit of a turn. If I'd had my wits about me I'd have realised that our saintly leader was not the "exclusive" this time, as he's gone awol himself and is somewhere abroad on the ski slopes even as I type. Quite why anybody would want to go abroad to frolic in the snow when we've got a surfeit of the bloody stuff here is beyond me, but he's away now, doing his best to stay upright on a pair of skis. Or in his case, possibly just one skiasthe other will be off and lost by now. Doubtless he's cavorting in the usual dubious company of Hobbs, Venetia and other juveniles freed from the shackles of horses and owners for a week. If there are reports of avalanches in the Alps across the next 7 days, you'll know why.

The timing of his departure would appear to be impeccable in the light of the all-star cast from Racing that's being assembled to record an updated version of Downtown, worryingly called Cheltenham, in the name of charity. You can tell that there's not much to write about on the Racing front at the moment, can't you? And if you wanted to worry about it you could always ponder how 3 syllables as opposed to the original 2 can possibly work in the oft-repeated song title. The main point is though, that when the 'phone call comes in asking him to join the turf's glitterati in the recording studio, he won't be here to take it. Which is no bad thing, because Queen Vic and I heard him "singing" in the shower one day and had to put an emergency call in to Ben Brain fearing that he'd been hit with an attack of colic. If you thought he didn't do interviews you can take it as read that he doesn't do singing. Something of a disgrace to the mother land, I'd say!

Well, the rest of us are back to work with a vengeance as Jump racing comes out of hibernation tomorrow. We don't start again until Sunday when we have 2 at Ffos Las hoping to get us back among the winners........

Thurs 14th: - that's better! The great thaw is underway which, given normal progress could even reach the trainer's wallet sometime in the next decade. The prospects of the re-introduction of some racecourse action have suddenly gone odds-on and smiles have miraculously appeared again around the yard. All of a sudden life seems worth living.

In a more buoyant frame of mind I decided it was time to pluck up courage and toboggan down to Carl's place in Guiting Power, it having been a couple of weeks since I'd last confronted the horrors that lurk behind his front door. With trembling hand I gently turned the key in the lock, took a deep breath and surveyed what I believe is commonly referred to as "a bachelor existence". Now I'm not easily shocked and have seen a few sights in my time, but my little jaw dropped lower than Nigel's waistline at the scene that confronted me. My first thought was that he must have had a few, obviously very close, friends round for a toga party as there seemed to be a lot of laundry bedecking the lounge. Closer inspection ruled out anything as innocuous as this, however, and I came to the conclusion that he must have been making a few bob on the side by using it as a film set for Caligula or Carry On Dolly. Not for the first time I wondered at the little man's renowned stamina, but I suppose it has been very cold and there are worse ways to keep warm. With just a tinge of jealousy I put all his toys back in their box, tidied as best I could, re-set the CCTV and left.

Peter Thomas came up with a clutch of bright ideas in the Post today to help prevent future freeze-ups wiping out racing. Among them was the suggestion that everyone keep a herd of Friesians in their back garden so that the resultant generation of methane would increase temperatures by a couple of degrees, thereby keeping Jack Frost at bay. With the greatest of respect to Peter this is old hat, for Nigel, the great innovator as well as the great communicator, has been a methane devotee for a number of years. His cabbage soup diets are legendary in these parts, as are their gangrenous properties. Indeed, if he'd only been on the calabrese this last week the local council wouldn't have had to worry about gritting the roads as the temperature rise would have been sufficient to melt the snow between here and Stow. And as an added bonus Queen Vic's dogs wouldn't come in the house.......

Weds 13th: - Oh good! Two more inches of snow overnight and just when I was beginning to think we'd turned the corner. The feeling I got this morning when I scraped the ice off the inside of the window was not dissimilar to the resignation felt when having to sit on Uncle Owen's knee at Christmas. The difference being that at least he used to give me a bar of chocolate - unlike Nigel who's only giving me escalating grief in the current white-out. His usual sunny disposition is starting to erode round the edges so we'd better see an increase in temperatures soon or there could be a death on the premises. I know it's repetitive and I promise that after today I'm not going to mention them again - well, not 'til they reveal their next bright idea anyway, but the Racing For Loose Change stable of mental selling plater's really do need to sit down and listen to the views of those in Racing upon whom they seek to impose their wacky ideas. The general racing public aren't enamoured if the letters page of the Racing Post is a reasonable yardstick, for the on-going and widespread response of Joe Public can reasonably summed up as one of disbelief liberally sprinkled with disappointment. The reaction of Racing's "pro's" is even more damning with hacks across the country united in their condemnation, none more so than the reasoned and erudite Laura Thompson in her column on Monday. Laura, like many of us who love and attend N H racing regularly, is concerned that in their lemming-like quest for change, Racing's Loose brains are actually alienating its core supporters. Their latest initiative is a cracker, wrapped up predictably in language that makes you wince with its patronising platitudes. Some hapless victim has been found to extend Racing For Loose Change's quest to deliver the blindingly obvious, this time in the guise of "project manager for the customer experience strategy". By this, can they possibly mean trying to implement sensible admission charges along with wholesome and competitively priced refreshments? If so, the individual racecourses whose lot this is, should listen and react accordingly, for at the moment the only way to eat well and cheaply at the races is to take a picnic. The whole Loose Change offering makes me so cross, not because I doubt the intent, but because it's all such an affront to the intelligence and a wholesale "jobs for the boys" waste of precious resources.

Still squirming uncomfortably in my corset, my mood wasn't noticeably improved when I stumbled across Charlie Brooks' weekly column in the Telegraph, a man who leaves the distinct impression that he's rather keen on himself and who's also not averse to dropping a name or two along the way. He's almost the Racing equivalent of Glenn Hoddle who, in his footballing heyday, was known as "chocolate", so enamoured was he with his own self image. Truly he would have eaten himself had he been physically able. Brooks, who can't be all bad because he once made a reasonable job of training Suny Bay, obviously isn't bowled over by Racing For Loose Change either, but the article went pear-shaped when he revealed that he'd discussed his ideas with Simon Cowell for goodness sake! When I'm granted one wish, this being that I can put 10 people in a rocket and fire them on a one-way trip into space, the first person through the hatch will be Simon Cowell. Followed by Gordon Brown, Jonathan Ross, Piers Morgan, Dale Winters and the Racing For Loose Change entourage. Yes, I know, I'm going to need a bigger rocket..........

 

Tues 12th: - I passed the Jump Racing Focus brochure on to the trainer after second lot. He gave it a cursory glance which was quite along time for somebody with the attention span of a gnat, so I swiftly moved it on to Carl who held it up to the light, as if checking out the water mark, before pronouncing, "okay - must have cost a few bob though". The cost of the exercise won't matter if it works, with the acid test in this respect being whether it unearths more race sponsors to replace those lost in the inevitable "churn" of a financial downturn. Full of case histories, profiles and some sweeping generalisations I hope it is a winner as if nothing else this would add to prize money, but the overall success of sponsorship, difficult as this is to measure, lies in awareness built over time. The most successful sponsorships needing years of investment to register and perform to best effect - hence I still view the Grand National as Martell's property. John Smith's have begun their association with the great race very well, but they probably need a couple more years before their name rules and Martell is totally eliminated from the mindset. Why? Because the purveyors of Froggie cognac maintained a simple and effective message over a decade, unlike most other sponsors who give it a year or two and then decide it's not delivering in the way they'd expected and pull out. Incidentally, I must take the brochure's editor to task over the statement, "Jump racing is going through a special time with a tremendous group of trainers at the top of their game like Paul Nicholls, Alan King, Nicky Henderson and Venetia Williams". No mention of Saint Nigel, the Welsh Wizard, who's won the world's greatest steeplechase twice as often as the Fab Four put together. No wonder he only gave it a quick flick. Finally, why does a simple brochure like this need 6 contributors? Someone more cynical than I may claim that it's because the accredited sextet all benefit in some way from "the exciting Racing For Loose Change campaign"and need to justify both their existence and cost. We can each of us make up our own minds on that one, I'm sure.

Black mark for the day, though, goes to the irrepressible Mark Winstanley, but it's not for the excellence of his tipping, you'll be less than surprised to hear. Yesterday's 0 from 3 at Kempton including a "tailed off" on the all-weather, kept his losing run ticking humorously along in the way that only he can. One wonders how much longer it will be before Trades Descriptions call the Post to account over the assertion that the Couch is part of an indispensable tipping service. No, the charge today is one of plagiarism - and at my expense too! To think the plump one has actually being lying on his couch reading the blog of the immaculately turned out Bronwen and then building bits in to camouflage his own "oars and rowlocks". How sad is that? Still, with his talent a position with the Loose Change mob should be a formality when he finally goes belly up. A truly stomach churning thought with which to end the day...........

Mon 11th: - credit where credit's due, that's what I say if I absolutely have to, and through the worst of what Mother Nature's thrown our way of late the Royal Mail, if indeed that's what it's still called, has delivered the goods so credit to posties everywhere. Today's post looked, at first sight, much like any other's, comprising as it did a number of promisory notes from owners explaining why payment of their training bills is slightly delayed. High marks for creativity of excuse were awarded in all instances, but a belated stamp-free New Year's card caused most amusement and was voted as being about as valued as the knickers I threw at Tom Jones in the Ebbw Vale Ritz back in 1973. There were a few carrots with suggestions as to which horses might enjoy them, but they never got to their proposed destinations because the trainer started chomping away in the office blaming consumption of the horses' treats on boredom. There was one item of note amongst the mail, however, this being a glossy, expensive looking brochure primarily extolling the virtues of sponsorship, with an accompanying note from Cheltenham's sponsorship supremo, Peter McNeile. Cheltenham, never slow to chase a buck or spot an opportunity to extract even more from members' wallets, inevitably has a constant battle to generate new sponsors to fill the shoes of those who've pulled the plug, so the brochure unashamedly aims to attract new businesses to the sponsorship trough and content-wise, does it quite well. Sponsorship, according to my cousin who claims to know a bit about the game, is one of the great unquantifiable strands of marketing. Putting a value on what it's worth, let alone what it actually delivers, is very much in the eye of the beholder, so finding new sponsors in dodgy financial times is not easy. More chance Fergal getting a modelling contract from Moss Bros, but Mcneile is duty bound to keep at it and thus far he's done pretty well in keeping Cheltenham's sponsorship wheels turning. The brochure looks the part and may help with generating a new sponsor or two, but I was left wondering why Jump racing alone would appear to be leading the way on this front. What about the poor relation of the Flat? Closer inspection of Jump Racing Focus, reveals the murky hand of Racing For Loose Change among the contributors, not necessarily a bad thing, but does this mark the start of Jump racing doing its own thing or is it going to have to continue to prop up its aiing summer relation? There's much to like about this brochure and lots to try and digest including the obligatory measures of marketing speak, so with no racing to help fill the news I'm going to delve a little deeper between the covers and return to the theme tomorrow.............

Sun 10th: - if yesterday presented a barren sporting landscape it was a veritable treasure trove compared to today. One game of footy from what used to be Division 2 in old money, enacted by two sides in a vain search to re-kindle the glories of yesteryear, was all there was to pass the tedium of the afternoon. Somehow, despite the paltry efforts of Leicester and Ipswich to entertain, I survived, but I'm now teetering on the brink of desperation, so much so that I'm seriously considering watching the darts tonight. And it doesn't get much more desperate than that. Another chilly forecast for the week ahead is slightly offset by the prospect of temperatures that may even rise sufficiently to promote a slow thaw, but the prospect of any Jump racing before the weekend remains on a par with Big Nose missing out in a photo finish. So the next few days hold nothing but the certainty of plenty of ironing, stocking the freezer up with goodies and exercising the dog - endlessly!

In my quest for a televised sporting fix I watched the final stages of a discussion on Attheraces that included Lee Mottershead and the opinionated dirigible that is John McCrirrick. The ludicrously attired windbag who goes out of his way to be contentious doesn't grate with me the way he does with some. His "act" comes across as precisely that, but at least he has opinions and is prepared to air them irrespective of who might find them disagreeable. Would that some of racing's rulers were similarly willing to stand up and be counted. It was the more reasoned approach of Lee Mottershead that struck more of a chord, however, not least because seeing him reminded me of the poignant piece he wrote in the Post a week or so ago. His theme, in a nutshell, was how fortunate he'd been to have had parents who'd introduced him to the enjoyment of Racing and additionally to the sport itself for what it had delivered and allowed him to do. His parents are now passed on, his mother released from the nightmare of dementia only recently, and I mentally drew a parallel with my own racing education, the difference being that it was my grandparents, as opposed to parents, who steered me into the hands ot the Tote and subsequently the Fat Farmer From Naunton. It's odd the different paths we each tread and the unforeseen circumstances that lead us all to the joys, excitement and insurpassable highs and lows that only love of the horse delivers. Lucky Lee. Lucky me. Roll on some warmer weather......

Sat 9th: - I thought I'd get the parish notes done early today. Frankly I haven't got much choice because with the generator having been re-programmed to shut down earlier in the evening and with my candle having burnt out ahead of the weekly ration issue, I need a bit of daylight to see what the hell I'm doing. This weather is starting to get on my tits, a state of irritation that can be effectively gauged by the fact that I've just spent 10 minutes flicking around on the TV remote looking for something half decent on the sporting front that might be of interest this afternoon. With One Man And His Dog having sadly fallen foul of the schedulers, no proper racing and no football I was on the brink of slitting my wrists when I stumbled across what could be a fair game of Rugby Union on Sky. Okay, it's only Leicester vs Wasps and well short of the quality of the Scarlets, but it will have to do. By any measure it's got to be a country mile ahead of camel racing on the all-weather which I can barely even bring myself to mention, let alone watch.

Like all yards in the current cold spell it's pretty grim here at the moment, but we're managing to tick over and the horses are out every morning cantering away on the all-weather gallops. So fitness-wise we're not losing too much and when we see some turf action again we'd hope that they'd still be pretty straight. Looking on the bright side the prolonged cold snap should see the end of any stable bugs, although quite whether it can penetrate deep enough to wipe out the ones that have layed undisturbed for so long in Nigel's wallet is another matter entirely........

Fri 8th: - hidden away within the swathe of initiatives that those nice people from Racing For Loose Change are proposing to introduce is an idea that has produced positive comment and no little excitement from the trainer. Whilst chomping on his toastie marmite soldiers over breakfast his little eyes lit up when he spotted the bit about funded media training for trainers and jockeys. Not being slow to sniff the prospect of an earner he wondered aloud whether, in his new role as the Great Communicator, there might be an opportunity to pass on his considerable media skills to others less gifted, with an associated invoice winging its way to London by way of reward. He scribbled a note on his shirt cuff to this effect, reminding himself that an obvious start point would be Mick Easterby, who apparently knows nothing about Racing For Loose Change. A couple of sessions with old Mick up in Yorkshire should be enough to enlighten him and anyone else who viewed the media fraternity with suspicion. At a hundred pounds a pop Nigel reasoned that for a natural like him it was money for old rope. Additionally it could deliver sufficient funds to clear his bar bill at The Hollow in no time.

Also spotting the potential in RFC is John Cobb, although his proposal for RFC is founded on more meritable principles than the airy-fairy nonsense that's the domain of the Loose mob. Mr Cobb, who looks far too young to register as a miserable old git, is an advocate of Racing For Curmudgeons, a worthy body broadly opposed to just about every half-baked proposal that Racing For Loose Change has ever concocted. This sounds like my sort of organisation! Further, I know a motley gang of aspiring curmudgeons, with Tony Morris an obvious leader, who could be rounded up from the lawn at Cheltenham, all willingly paying good money to rub shoulders with such like-minded company. None of them laugh much, but when you watch Racing being steered into such a cul de sac by the current governing body it's not really a laughing matter. is it?.........

 

Thurs 7th: - Mum rang me today to see if I was still alive as I hadn't filed any news for a couple of days. It's gratifying to know that somebody's missed me. I explained that having been to stay the night with a friend my return had been delayed by a combination of attempting the tray-less luge down their stairs in the small hours and several inches of something firm and white. Putting the snow to one side, the little toe broken when the luge unseated me at the tricky first bend, sending me hurtling into the bannisters at a rate of knots, was probably insufficient on its own to induce the state of shock that overcame me. For this I have to blame the deranged trainer from Bilbrook, one Philip Hobbs, who stated quite openly in the Post that his racing hero was none other than Nigel Twiston-Davies! Now for this to happen hot on the heels of Nigel being tipped for saintly status by the stable jockey inevitably draws a parallel with the question of whether the lunatics are now running the asylum. In Hobby's case sanity is certainly up for debate. It's already widely suspected that it's his wife who really trains the horses, so with hero worship for N T-D now being the order of the day and Hobbs' other doubtful recommendation that Charlie at The Hollow Bottom is the guy to see if you're looking for a decent plate of food, the poor chap is obviously in need of a long stay in The Priory to unscramble his mind.

The re-appearance, from wherever it is they've been hiding, of the cast of Racing For Loose Change can reasonably be described as underwhelming. The main thrust of their latest offering would appear to major on the decimalisation of starting prices,apparently based on the belief that an S P of 2.75/1 will encourage more people to go racing than one of 11/4. The daftness of such an assumption is truly mind-boggling, but why should we be surprised given what has gone before? Alastair Down registered his disappointment at a "non-event" , but he, alongside other racing folk with brain cells still working, can't have been astonished at the paucity and lack of depth of the latest instalment in the Brian and Ben saga. For the bottom line is that committees, particularly those with a multi-layered structure, can generally be relied on to pontificate and posture endlessly, talk mainly for the benefit of their own egos, and basically deliver nothing outside of an endless supply of opinionated hot air. In this respect Racing For Loose Change is bang on track. As Mark Johnston, the northern-based Flat trainer and man who suffers no fool gladly, put it on Radio 5 Live the other day,"to best promote racing the emphasis should be on the horse, not the betting".Why can't the RFLC dimwits open their eyes to the simple facts that it's quality racing at attractvely priced and user-friendly venues that will draw a crowd. The betting side of the equation and the relative role and contribution of bookmakers has got sweet damn all to do with changing Racing's public appeal. I could go on - and probably will another time, but the Saint's just come in from the tack room scraping frost from his duffel demanding supper. I told him to push the boat out and qive Queen Vic a treat down at that local restaurant of renown, The Hollow Bottom. Anyway, my toe's telling me I should be on my back - I must get Ben Brain round to look at it.........

Mon 4th: - Plumpton's 7 race card yesterday afforded plenty of time to muse gently about one of those"essentials" for an enjoyable day at the races, albeit one that is generally taken for granted. For when the P A system crackles into life the identity of the course commentator can make or mar the day. The realisation that the voice on duty is one you value and enjoy will lift the spirits. Conversely the dreaded tones of a caller who you don't rate will send you straight to the bar for a stiff drink and the hope that maybe the TV commentator will be somebody different. Racing may have lacked progress on many fronts in recent years, but the general standard of course commentary isn't one of them. The overall standard is now arguably higher than it's ever been and so when I heard Mark Johnson's velvet tones at the chilly Sussex track my shopping bag of goodies was truly running over. Accurate, erudite, informative and possessing what Harrison Fraser would doubtless term "good product knowledge", he's right up there with the best of them. As a for instance witness his, "it's rare to see a Nigel Twiston-Davies runner with a sheepskin noseband" as Frontier Spirit led the field in the bumper. My personal favourite, more so even than Simon Holt and Mike Cattermole, is Richard Hoiles who, unlike some, is prepared and confident enough to go off script to deliver wholly accurate race descriptions that are works of pure aural enjoyment. He also has he basic ability to distinguish geldings from mares, the "he's" from the "she's"so to speak. D.Thompson esq please note!

As the freeze tightens its grip and Racing faces a wipe out of several days the bible, in keeping with all other editorial offerings, struggles to fill its pages with readable and interesting content. Hence the current attempt to compare the exploits of Arkle, as championed by Sean Magee, to those of Kauto Star seconded by Steve Dennis. Someone more cynical than I might dismiss it as simple page-filling fodder, but it indisputably fills a gap, however meaningless. I never saw Arkle in the flesh, but I still have some grainy black and white footage of the first time he broke Mill House's heart in the '64 Gold Cup. Kauto's good, brilliant even, but for my money he still hasn't achieved Arkle's greatness. And bear in mind that there was another 'chaser around at that time rated even better. Remember Flyingbolt? For readers requiring more typical "tabloid" entertainment there's always Mark Winstanley's column and tips, if they can possibly be described thus. Mercy me, but today he only went and bagged a winner at 4/6 from his 3 selections. If Pricewise is priceless for the Racing Post then Winstanley has to be read in the context of "amusing but clueless". Were he ever to become a race course commentator I'm sure he'd keep the punters chuckling - and equally certain that nobody would have the faintest idea of just what was going on......

Sun 3rd: - whenever I think that it can't get any colder I manage to find a location where it does. Today I ventured to the freezer that was Plumpton, partly by way of celebration that racing was actually on (well done all at Plumpton in achieving this) and partly because there seemed every prospect that we could end our losing run with a winner or two. As it turned out the stable's continuing presence on the "cold" list is nothing if not in keeping with the arctic weather, for two more placed efforts couldn't quite thaw out the frozen cogs of success. Have You Seen Me under Tom Malone settled better, but not well enough to quite last home in finishing a close 3rd, while Jump for Fun's Frontier Spirit again ran green when swept aside by what could turn out to be a decent bumper horse from the Noel Chance yard. That's 3 runners for our Racing Club this season and 3 times they've ended in the runners-up berth. Orchestrating proceedings at the Sussex chiller was a chirpy Carl, duly recovered from the physical excesses of welcoming in a new decade of continuing decadence, thus showing remarkably consistent form lines from one so long of tooth and short of stature. The trainer's recent skirmish with the butcher and the resultant risk of frostbite from the neck upwards kept him at home in front of the fire with the programme book in a frantic search for a walkover. I don't think he'll find one in the next few days as the forecast seems to rule out any racecourse action for the rest of the week. Off-course action is unlikely to be affected, however, and I'll update accordingly when I've been down to clean up at Carl's later in the week. Decayed decades in the saddle ensure that he now routinely turns down the ride on anything that hangs, shows inexperience or makes a noise, so the only cold list he's likely to confront is one that includes Eskimo Nell. With her form she could make even his teeth chatter, so I think I'll advise him to keep them in.............

Jan 2nd: - New Year at the Ewe Inn was a scream. The ewe was done to perfection, Uncle Dai was allowed in but had his boot confiscated and Mum still had most of her faculties at midnight which was an unexpected bonus. All in all it was a typically Celtic stylish evening and it ended on a high note for me when I won Larry the lamb, the first prize in the raffle and also had a result with Blodwyn. He's actually my cousin, but we don't worrry about that sort of thing down here and with his lovely sensitive hands he could have played scrum half for Wales. He's also extremely intelligent, so much so that he's recently come up with two additional uses for sheep. Meat and wool. To start with I thought it a pity that he'd forgotten to put his lenses in, but the expression, " had it off with a right touch" could almost be the family motto as far as Blodwyn is concerned. However, all good things come to an end, so Larry and I arrived back here on New Year's Day in time to join 25,000 other souls at Cheltenham for the only holiday race card to survive the elements.

It was a difficult day for all and in the final analysis everyone emerged with a measure of credit. That racing went ahead at all was improbable given the overnight dip in temperature for it wasn't that long ago that the fixture would simply have been abandoned. There aren't too many marks of Racing's enlightened progress over recent years, but the development and use of covers has paid off in spades, as testified by Cheltenham's bumper crowd. The course management found itself between a rock and a hard place, such were the borderline ground conditions and it was a bold move to finally give the green light and complete the card, albeit in a hugely reduced state runner-wise. Initially the cynics on the lawn had Baron Gillespie and his grasping course cohorts marked down as traditional villains assuming, erroneously as it transpired, that cancellation after running the first would ensure no refund for the frozen 25,000. In the end it was a pat on the back all round, although it's doubtful whether too many spectators would have persevered had they known how the card was going to be decimated. Certainly nobody could blame any of the trainers who decided against running and thankfully, the unlucky and Blodwyn-inspired Hold Em apart, all contestants seem to have emerged intact. Nigel certainly deemed it safe enough to proceed, which was a singularly brave decision on his part in view of the haircut he'd recently taken on board. One can only assume that he'd lost his bearings in Winchcombe and wandered absent mindedly into the butchers instead of seeking out Mort the tonsorial stylist. In any event I strongly advised him against visiting his homeland in the foreseeable future as if Dai the Boot claps eyes on him looking like that we may never see him again...............

 

 

 

Weds 30th: - the trainer seemed particularly on edge this morning, acting as though something was weighing on his mind. As I rinsed through his Action Man shell suit I idly wondered what might be troubling him. It couldn't be his position in the Trainers' table where Saint Nigel still sits second with comfortable daylight between him and the Lord of Lambourn in 3rd place. There's little point in looking upwards as Don Ditcheat has gone beyond recall, so what could it be? Eventually Queen Vic enlightened me with the news that Nigel, being aware that the New Year Honours were about to be unveiled, had been tipped off that there might be an award in the offing. Hence much pacing of the floor while awaiting the postie's arrival. Might it be an O B E? Carl thought this unlikely unless it stood for One of the Biggest Ever, which even I thought was a tad cruel. The post did eventually arrive soon after 10.0 and contained an official-looking envelope complete with 1st class stamp, which with our owners has extreme rarity value. With trembling hands he ripped it open to read that he'd been highly recommended for this year's Albert Steptoe trophy, another worthy initiative from Racing For Loose Change, this to help promote Oxfam fashion on the racecourse. By their standards this could be viewed as being relatively worthy. Nigel actually looked quite pleased at the prospect of winning something and wondered where he might obtain a replacement for Hercules, Steptoe's horse, to help bag the prize. I was going to suggest he look in the bottom yard where we had a few that might fit the bill, but thought better of it.

Well, that's almost another year done, although I'm bound to say that the combination of foul weather and a bit of a barren spell with the yard's inmates means that it ends with a bit of a whimper as opposed to a crackle. I'm home to Mum's for the celebrations - and as you know by now we don't hold back in Wales when it comes to a moriarty (just for Mark Winstanley's benefit). New Year's Eve at the Ewe Inn will be lively and I only hope they've bahh-ed Ivor the Boot and Mum performs asonly she can in the Dolly Parton look-a-like competition. By the time I get back it will be 2010 and the Grange Hill Farm winner machine should be back in full production. A happy and healthy New Year to you all meanwhile, not forgetting the real stars with 4 legs...........

 

Tues 29th: - in an attempt to escape the freezing wastes of Naunton I blagged a lift to Newbury where the temperature was merely perishing. This, aided by persistent driving rain, means that double pneumonia is being matched at even money on Betfair so tonight I'll be retiring wrapped in two of Nigel's duffels in an attempt to thwart rigor mortis. The only good thing about Newbury was the welcoming haven of the Owners & Trainers next to the paddock where the friendly staff, endless supplies of hot coffee and pastries and no Jobsworth on the door kept visitors in the land of the living - but only just.

Conditions on the track were even worse and there were some muddied and fairly battered horses and jockeys bearing testament to the Somme-like conditions. Paddy, limping in and out of the weighing room, looked a prime candidate for a couple of days R & R, but he's no more likely to be granted this by the trainer than I am. Our runners all performed pretty well under the circumstances although the winner-less sequence has now dribbled into the 40's, a tally that we won't be able to arrest until Warwick on Thursday at the earliest. They're running okay but just not hitting th target at the moment. With his mate Hobby firing in the winners left, right and centre across the holiday period it was all too much for Nigel who stayed at home in front of the fire with a hot water bottle. I rather wish I had too.............

Mon 28th: - I suppose there must have been a time when I was colder than when I woke up this morning, but I can't remember it. Even Cardiff Docks in mid-winter when Mum used to take me to work with her wasn't as freezing as my bedroom this morning. I must ask Nigel if he could see his way to increasing the central heating programme by half an hour to forty minutes. It's alright for him - he's got Queen Vic and assorted menagerie to warm the bed, but even he slept in one of his duffel coats. He's now got a wardrobe full of duffels, with a different shade for every day of the week, but it was the blue one that got the nod for bed last night as he reckoned it best matched his Wee Willie Winkie nightcap.

It wasn't just the icy temperature outside that caused a shiver or two. We've not hit the target for over a fortnight now and the Racing Post has got us climbing the "cold" trainers table at a rate of knots. Apparently we last saddled a winner 31 runners ago, and if we add today's 6 unsuccessful starters we're heading for the 40 mark. To cheer him up a bit over breakfast I did him some eggy soldiers and pointed out that some poor bugger on the cold list hadn't had a winner for 496 days. Somehow I don't see our next winner taking until Spring 2011. I reckon it might even be tomorrow at Newbury where Roll Along looks the one to beat in the Graduation Chase. Here's hoping, then we might get some extra warmth at Grange Hill Farm otherwise I'm going to have to borrow one of his duffels at night. He's got so many he'll never notice.........

Sun 27th: - Boxing Day rather passed me by, partly down to shock and then to the disappointment of not finding a winner from any of our 12 runners split between Kempton and Huntingdon. The shock required my having to lay down in a darkened room for several hours after reading Paddy's interview in the Racing Post on Christmas Eve within which the trainer was described as "saintly". Now, of all the thousands of descriptions spoken and written about N T-D over the years, "saintly" had, somehow or other, never managed to make the list. It's inexplicable, I know, but Saint Nigel of Naunton had never previously troubled the judge. Presumably it's now only a matter of time before a statue of St.Nigel is erected in the square in Guiting Power as a mark of all his saintly works. I trust the sculptor gets the tone right - duffel coated with a large gin and soda in hand should be the order of the day - and an accompanying prayer for a winner would set it off nicely. It would put St Pancras completely in the shade, although come to think of it that's also a listed monument.

How to explain 12 runners, many of them fancied, with a solitary 3rd place the net haul? We've had better returns at Christmas, certainly, but that's racing, I suppose. One of the strengths of Imperial Commander is his jumping, but at Kempton in the big race this went to pot and it's now generally accepted that the track just isn't for him. There'll be many now writing him off for the Gold Cup in March, but they've been proved wrong before - and could well be again. I thought that young Sam, aided by his 7lb claim and 5 promising rides, would have a day to remember at Huntingon, instead of which it turned out to be a day to forget - and as quickly as possible. On the floor twice, once when clear at the last, Sam's day was indicative of a frustrating spell for the yard where winners have proved to be as elusive as a bright idea from Racing For Loose Change. Cue another miracle courtesy of Saint Nigel, maybe at Kempton later.......

Christmas Day: - as I feared Nigel got overly excited at the thought of Santa's imminent arrival and he was awake at 3.0 in the morning peering up the chimney. Queen Vic had anticipated the problem though,and had put one of his presents at the foot of the bed to help keep him quiet 'til it got light. This year's edition of The Beano Annual did the trick - some people take pride in their collection of Chasers & Hurdlers, but Nigel's got the full house of Beano Annuals and they're well thumbed. As a special treat we let Carl come up for a sleep over, but this rather backfired and it ended in tears. It was Nigel's fault really as he was so wound up that he couldn't control himself. Would that he had the same problem when stood at the bar in The Hollow Bottom. Anyway, he was full of mischief after breakfast and thought it would be funny if he put Carl's stocking on top of the tallboy, just out of reach. Normally this wouldn't be a problem but he'd already hidden Carl's grow-tall step so he wasn't quite able to get to it. Cue a tantrum and major histrionics. I thought for a minute that Queen Vic was going to send them both back to bed, but it blew over and once Carl had opened his main present, a push-a-long Dolly the Sheep, peace was resumed.

It's a big day for the yard tomorow as apart from the A-team at Kempton young Sam's got a clutch of good rides at Huntingdon, so we're all hoping it passes the 2nd inspection,although the track's got "history" on this front. Still, fingers crossed and meanwhile a very happy Christmas to ewe all.......

 

Christmas Eve: - when I left you yesterday I was off to stuff the turkey - or so I thought. Turns out that there was no turkey to stuff as Nigel had forgotten to pick it up - he blamed Mrs Merton and she tried to deflect it to me, but I was having none of it. So, faced with a turkey-less vista and a barren lunch table it was inevitably left to Bronwen to leap in and keep the trainer's waistline at maximum capacity. In less time than it takes Carl to remove his trousers I'd prepared one of my signature dishes, ewe hotpot, which coincidentally is what they used to call me down at the Splot Working Men's Club in the days when Neil Kinnock ruled. Can't imagine how that was ever allowed to happen, but I've always had a name for being versatile with ewe, so I saved the day again.

Mention of Mrs Merton and you'll never guess - she only wants to play Peter Pan in the panto. I mean, how are we going to wire her up and make her fly on stage after the amount of mulled wine she gets down her neck? And it's often before declaration time. It's going to be a problem, but not as big as the one posed by Dai the Boot who's arrived here out of the blue also wanting to strutt his thespian stuff. It wouldn't be so bad but he's written his own part and even scripted it so that at appropriate moments the audience cries out, "he's behind ewe". Trouble being he generally is. I think it would be best if mum stopped seeing him and I'm going to tell her so.

Everyone's looking forward to Boxing Day at Kempton when Imperial Commander takes on Kauto Star again in the King George. Having nailed the myth that he doesn't stay, the Commander can now blow a hole in the belief that he doesn't go right handed either. Lots of us at Naunton think he'll go well enough clock-wise at the Sunbury track, especially on the forecast soft ground, to stand a proper chance of spoiling Kauto's"4th". Certainly if I'd been given a Christmas bonus, he'd be carrying it......

Weds 23rd: - in much the same way that the thoughts of Chairman Mao were brought together in a little red book, so should the thoughts of Mr Bumble be bound for posterity in order that future generations can see that it really did happen. His latest piece in Owner & Breeder starts reasonably enough dealing, as it does, with the impending Govt sale of the Tote and Racing's hope to take the "nanny" on board. A freed-up Tote as part of Racing's future, hopefully re-structured, remit would have the potential for a "win, win" situation for both Tote and the sport. The bottom line is, though, that the chances of a sale to anyone before the country goes to the polls is remote, while the views of the Govt in waiting on Tote ownership are also shrouded in uncertainty. What is indisputable, however, is that Racing has no divine right to provide a "proper" home for the betting operator, a fact that Mr Bumble and his cohorts in Racing's various factions seem to totally overlook. It's this "divine right" mentality to see the Tote under Racing's ownership that grates, not that it would be a bad thing, but whatever became of humility and commercial realism? Neither are attributes that figure highly amongst Racing's leaders, as evidenced by Mr Bumble's classic assertion that "Racing is not short of clever and experienced people who between them could make the Tote deal happen" As a statement it's typical of the egotistical and arrogant views of Racing's rulers, for while they congratulate themselves on their cleverness, just about everyone else thinks they're a bunch of prats. Certainly clever people would never have steered Racing into some of the cul de sacs that this factional bunch have overseen. Oh for a soupcon of down to earth realism, with a bit of unity thrown in for good measure.

Great piece in the Telegraph today by Marcus Armytage on local lad, Guy Disney, now back riding out for Big Nose after losing a leg in Afghanistan. Guy aims to ride in a charity race at Fakenham in February in aid of Help For Heroes, the fund for injured service personnel that Big Nose is also supporting via 2 horses in the Heroes Partnership. An understated Christmas feel-good tale with which to end the day - and a humbling one to boot. Suitably buoyed I'm off to stuff the turkey..........

Tues 22nd: - when a conversation with the trainer is one of the highlights of the day it's a sure sign that life has reached a very low ebb. Never the less, when we conversed this morning over a post-gallops repast of Readybrek and warmed milk he looked and sounded ebullientand this in turn had a surprisingly therapeutic effect on me. I think he's taken to his Baron Hardup role in the panto with similar gusto to Uncle Dai and a prize winning ewe and later on I spotted him rehearsing theatrically in front of the bathroom mirror. Everyone agrees that he's a natural, as many years of pleading poverty in the Hollow Bottom undoubtedly help bring authenticity to the part. There have been further castings made, with possibly the most noteworthy being Raymond Mould playing Tinkerbelle, clad only in a skin tight satin leotard of green and white stars which will be a real show stopper. Sparky wants a part too and has auditioned promisingly as Buttons, casting that he thinks ideal as it's rumoured that's what Hardup pays him. Snow White's dwarfs are also causing a lot of interest with Jo Collison snaffling the role of Happy and Craig and Squeezy fighting it out for Grumpy, one which I'll have to leave to the judge. Buffy wants to be included as well, but the costume department are concerned that there won't be enough time or material to kit her out. There's a real buzz about the place with all this going on, in fact I 've not seen such anticipation since Mum heard that a Russian fishing boat had docked in Cardiff causing her to shoot down to the dock gates to help make the crew welcome. She smelt of mackeral for weeks after and still does a bit, but it doesn't seem to worry anyone down the Ewe Inn.

I doubt that I was the only one with a wry smile yesterday when reading about Racing For Loose Change's youth drive. This initiative has the combined brains of Mr Bumble and P R guru, Nick Attenborough, to drive it, a fearsome combination when it comes to the art of stating the bleeding obvious alligned to total bollocks. According to the PR man,"to make it meaningful, we need to be talking to tens of thousands of people in order to get tens of thousands more people going racing". Really? Don't read it again - it will only depress you.

Finally, exciting news from home about a new business venture about to be launched by Dai the Boot and his pal Ivor Woppa. Accutely aware of how lonely a Welsh shepherd's life can be, they're launching a sort of hill top "dating" agency which offers the opportunity of some warm company to counter the solitude. They've already signed up a number of permed hostesses and shot some footage so anyone interested can view what's on offer on Ewe tube..........

 

Mon 21st: - I don't know about you but I'm getting sick of this. The winter wonderland that descended on us last Thursday, thus preventing my going anywhere since, has just about lost its appeal so Mr William Hill can take his odds for a white Christmas and shove them right up his bottom. The only bright spot today came in the shape of a caring neighbour with the unexpected delivery of the Racing Post, the first copy of one of life's necessities to be seen in 4 days, but as was bound to be the case on the Monday before boredom envelopes us all, there was bugger all in it. Apart, that is, from one gem from the amusing but incomparably incompetent Mark Winstanley who, from the safety of his couch, advised readers to invest some of their hard earned cash on Schindler's Hunt, a 33-1 shot in Saturday's King George. Perusal of the 5-day declarations reveals that said nag isn't even running, so The Couch's tipping exploits now offer similar chances of success to Robert Mugabe receiving an MBE for the promotion of democracy. Bangor's already been called off tomorrow, so there's no racing now for 5 days - and the weather needs to perk up for that. Much more of this and there'll be a book made up on precisely which method I'll choose to end it all. Nigel's just had a fiver on me slitting my wrists and he's told me to be quick and do it outside so I don't make a mess. Charming!

One positive side effect of everything sliding to a halt has been that arrangements for the pantomime have made huge strides. Being a creative bunch at Grange Hill Farm we've decided that the show itself will be an amalgam of a number of panto's so the cast will be a real treasure trove of characters. While final casting is still taking place, a number of "key" roles have been confirmed, among them Big Nose Bailey and Hobby as the Ugly Sisters, Nigel as Baron Hardup, Carl will play the Giant, I'll be Snow White while Bennett's a shoo-in for Dopey and Cathy T-D's talents as either Jack, his wheelbarrow or the Beanstalk, are still being debated. Props and make-up aren't felt to be necessary for any of these positions. There'll be parts for all the stable staff under the overall direction of Fergal Cowell, the infamous Irish Z factor impressario, who's eyeing Sam and Willie as potential Prince Charming material with Queen Vic having plenty in her favour as Widow Twankey. Phil Smith, the official handicapper, will play the Wicked Witch with plenty of obigatory "boo, hiss, you don't know what you're doing!" from the audience, which he's quite used to. It's going to be such fun and I just hope that rehearsals allow me near Ben Brain so I can rub his lamp and get his genie out.........

Sat 19th:- having had my Ascot outfit ready all week I'm having to cope with a real "come down" by being marooned here in the snow drifts instead of gracing Berkshire as anticipated. To make things worse I haven't seen the Racing Post since Thursday because local supplies have effectively been scuppered by the weather. In fact had it not been for a caring neighbour dropping in a copy of the Telegraph I wouldn't even have known that proper racing at Haydock had improbably survived- until this also belatedly fell to frost and snow. What to do? In desperation I tuned in to C4's Racing offering even though it could only offer some ghastly all-weather heats from Lingfield and Wolverhampton. The fact that programme link man, Alistair Down,was doing this from the snowy Ascot tundra only served to darken my mood further. It was Down, though, who eventually delivered something to make me chuckle as he got himself worked up into a dangerous state as he castigated the BHA for their decision to re-route the Long Walk Hurdle to non-televised Newbury on Dec 29th as opposed to televised Cheltenham on New Year's Day. Such was his vehemence at yet another display of ineptitude from the ruling body that I feared an on-screen coronary. He's quite right of course, for although it's good to have the race resurrected surely terrestrial TV exposure for the sport across the holiday period at either Cheltenham, or possibly Kempton on Boxing Day, would make much more sense. John Francome's resigned attitude of, "well what else can we expect from such a body of tosspots?" helped contain the Down blood pressure, but the whole episode effectively sums up the shortcomings of the BHA and its subordinate arms. Race Planning especially, should be made to stand in the corner for several days wearing a dunce's hat. The next thing you know they'll be employing Bennett from the pub who's renowned idiocy would fit in perfectly with the BHA's credo.

Other than this the highlight today was watching with amusement the trainer's efforts at snow clearance in the bottom yard. Clad in duffel and wellies he was back in that familiar Paddington Bear mode that we all know and love - and the shovel technique set it off perfectly. By comparison Uncle Dai exiting the public bar of the Ewe Inn after a skinful is quite co-ordinated, but at least Nigel got high marks for effort. We can all only hope and pray that temperatures rise,in similar fashion to Alistair Down's at Ascot, and a gentle thaw sets in well ahead of the King George before we all go mad.......

 

Fri 18th: - it's been the sort of day to test the patience of a saint which, of course, I am. Waking up to a good few inches, disappointingly only of snow, I was a little taken aback when the trainer informed me that it was my turn to get the papers. With the roads impassable I set off across the fields to the village shop only to find when I eventually got there that though I'd made it through the snow, unfortunately the papers hadn't. Of course, breakfast was late and then the whole day went downhill at an increasing rate of knots, mainly with the news that Ascot had abandoned not only today's card, but Saturday's lip-smacking fare as well. I was really looking forward to my day at Ascot tomorrow. I'd been invited to add some Welsh warmth and wit to a box hosted by some owners who doubtless see me as the most acceptable face of Grange Hill Farm. Nigel would have been there too, but duffel coats and Ascot are a bit of a clash don't you think? Still, it's of no matter now and it only remains to be seen whether Racing's powers that be can get their finger out and re-schedule any of the top races. It's a part of their game that's improved greatly in recent years so possibly Boxing Day's Kempton card could be spiced up even further. What are the chances, do you reckon, of sponsors William Hill and Ladbrokes willingly appearing on the same card? Yes, I thought so.

The vagaries of our climate were amply demonstrated by the fact that a little further north of Ascot's snow blanket Uttoxeter went ahead with no problems. It was therefore ironical that our only runner there was Ironical with Paddy riding after switching courses. The horse ran pretty well after a lay off, giving he impression that he'd improve given a bit more time. As for the rest of the racing programmme over the weekend, well, the weather forecast doesn't look very encouraging so it's looking like a pretty boring 48 hours on this remote hill top. So if you're passing by and fancy a plate of ewe stew do drop in - there's plenty left and you'll find me a very accommodating hostess..........

Thurs 17th: - it was so cold here this evening that the buttons on my bodice iced up and two of them pinged across the kitchen when I bent down to put the supper in the oven. It's ewe stew today - one of Carl's favourites- so I made an extra big pot for when he and Nigel got back from racing. No winners again but 3 more places at Ludlow where I'm assured they like ewe too. Unlike Exeter where they don't like ewe at all. Fortunately for us though, Nigel likes ewe enormously, which is why he named one of our horses Bobby Ewing after one of the great ewe lovers of the Brecon Beacons. Bobby always maintained that ewe is good for you, which partly explains why he had ewe several times a week and ended up inside. Gaol, that is. Not ewe.

The warmest place to be in this Siberian setting is bed, so that's where I took myself after the ewe-fest and I settled down with the latest compendium of Tiger Woods jokes and Radio 5 Live where, coincidentally, they were having a discussion on the fairness, or otherwise,of sporting celebrities having their private lives dissected in public. Inevitably Tiger Woods was used as the case in point, which encouraged one of the panellists to state, "the trouble with Woods, of course, is that he's tried to portray himself as whiter than white". Honest! Ewe couldn't make it up, could you? It's pretty white outside too. Ascot's looking dodgy. Night night...........

Weds 16th: - it was a very slow start to the day at Naunton's hostel for the terminally bewildered. Were there any curtains hanging in my bedroom window I would have opened them before tottering out of bed to face the world, but as there aren't any I had to get my stuttering circulation going with a vigorous session of frost scraping. Not many employers would ensure that this can be tackled without delay by arranging for frost on the inside, but it's typical of Nigel's consideration for the well being of us lesser mortals. By the time I'd chopped some firewood, drawn the water from the well and got the billycan on the go for morning tea I'd almost thawed out. Mum sometimes asks why I don't go back to my former work, but in truth it's no warmer hanging around down at Cardiff docks so as long as the trainer makes it worth my while I'll continue in my pivotal role. A bit of carpet on the bedroom floor would be nice though.

There wasn't much to get excited about with the horses today. Three runners at Bangor, which in my book is sort of Welsh, but not really, and two at Newbury yielded nothing, so nobody was beaming at me across the supper table when I served up my much vaunted culinary treat, ewe rissole. The first time I told Nigel he was getting this dish, a recipe handed down by one of mum's old boyfriends, Dai Larfin, he accused me of swearing at him. Silly old bugger - his hearing's not what it was you know.

The stable panto is really gathering pace and everyone here is anxious to have a part, none moreso than me, but that's another story. I've had calls from all over the place from aspiring luvvies and the final casting is going to be a nightmare. Most of the stable staff are likely to be in the line up, but I'm not overly keen on the likes of Hugh from the pub, or Bennett, the village idiot. Being a sweaty, Hugh and his dialect will have the audience wondering why the panto's being performed in a foreign language, while Bennett might just as well speak in a foreign language for all the sense he talks. I've even had Big Nose and Hobbsy on the 'phone wanting to be involved and my first thought was that they could combine their talents and join forces in a horse's costume, but they turned this down as they felt they didn't know enough about the subject matter........

Tues 15th: - with Folkestone being called off shortly before the first and Jump Jet and Carl already somewhere in deepest Kent when the news broke, I imagine there was a significant dip in the humour level on the long journey back to Naunton. Certainly the cat isn't taking any chances - he's already checked out to the relative safety of the hay barn, a wise move which reveals a level of acumen well above that associated with most of the 2-legged inmates here. But the Arctic wind blows ever stronger and I'm beginning to have concerns for later in the week, not so much for the racing as the stable pantomime which is scheduled for Christmas eve. Everyone's frantically trying to learn their lines and get their costumes together - except Nigel who figures that he'll just go as he is. Nothing new there, then. More news on the great Naunton Pantomime later on.

There was an article by John Cobb in todays' Post which set me thinking. Central to the piece was the proposal that there should be a "big" race every day, not just majoring primarily on weekends.Easier said than done, but he successfully cites Huntingdon's Peterborough Chase as a case in point, now back in its traditional Thursday slot and all the better for it rather than clashing with Saturday's "cream" fixtures. This year the result for the racecourse was a great field, a great race, a good crowd and presumably related betting turnover to boot. So everyone's a winner! Maybe Epsom should take note, for the Derby's never been the same since they moved it from Wednesday to Saturday. When I was a lass the first Wednesday in June was Derby Day and the country tuned in in similar fashion to the way the Convicts immerse themselves in the Melbourne Cup. The Derby's subsequent fall from grace somehow encapsulates Flat racing's mentality and leadership, but why should those of us who think that Epsom's an anachronism and should be bulldozed worry anyway?

As the howls of anguish rise to a crescendo on the countdown to Terry Wogan's last breakfast broadcast I'm wondering what the chances are of him re-telling the wheelbarrow joke one more time on Friday? I reckon it's a fair bet and will be tuned in expectantly, but should he run out of time I'll fill you in as best I can next week. I'm going to propose that we weave it tastefully into the Panto script anyway and will run this idea past Cathy, who I see as a natural on the wheelbarrow front.........

Mon 14th: - all this travelling has quite worn me out so all I'll be able to manage will be the house speciality, namely a quickie. As my dear old gran was often heard to say, though, "quantity may make your eyes water, but quality hits the spot". Very erudite, was Gran. Mention of quality brings me somehow or other to Carl. Having been unable to clean down at his place on Friday I went down there this morning and he's obviously been at it again. By which I mean, "entertaining" if you get my drift. Either that or he's developing a taste for a bit of cross dressing. Anyway, I cleared up as best I could and put everything in the linen basket ready for washing. The last time I handled knickers that small was when I played in the Under 12's netball team at the Splot Academy for Young Ladies. Today I couldn't even get my leg in the waistband, so he obviously likes them trained to the minute and carrying no condition. She probably needs a good feed if you ask me.

When I got back to Twiston Towers it was getting dark and the trainer was strangely mellow. So much so that, glass in hand, he celebrated the diploma recently received on completing his correspondence course in Media Communications by happily chatting away to some media hack or other. The previous verbal desert has been replaced by an unlikely oasis of oratory - if he carries on like this he'll be a market mover to follow Ryan Giggs as Sports Personality of the Year. Bless him! It's actually quite nice to see and read, as also is Mark Winstanley's Monday column in the Post even though the last winner he tipped must be shortly after Mafeking was relieved.

I had to have a word with Queen Vic today after I found dog hairs in her bed. I think she's been encouraging her cocker under the duvet, at least I think that's what she said. Whatever, I had to remind her that this sort of thing is usually frowned on in the Cotswolds. It's not even as if she's Welsh is it?.............

Sun 13th: - I don't know what to do about mum. By the time I got home she and Taffy were comatose on the scullery floor and three sheep were looking plaintively out of the bedroom window. Worst of all I then find out from Carys, the Chapel gossip, that there's talk of them setting up home together, possibly a wedding even, but it's not likely the sheep can be adopted as Taffy's age and criminal record will count against him. We're very particular when it comes to sheep adoption in Wales. By the time I got back to Naunton my varicose veins were playing up and I was in desperate need of a large drink so I headed straight to The Hollow Bottom hoping to bump into the world's sexiest vet, Ben Brain, together with his bag of assorted goodies. The thought of all those rubber tubes makes me go all goosey. Sadly no sign of Ben, but by complete coincidence my arrival was timed to perfection as Little and Large were just back from Cheltenham races where they'd only had another winner - and one worth a lot of money at that. For one moment I thought there was a real danger of them buying a round to celebrate this further financial windfall, but sadly not and I had to fund my own bacardi and blackcurrant. The trainer looked bemused - even moreso than usual as it happens, and frankly was in a bit of a state, all down to Khyber Kim winning and being talked of as a Champion Hurdle type. Well, Nigel's never got anywhere near the Champion Hurdle see, probably doesn't even know what day it's run, so to be linked with one of the fancied runners was something of a worry for him. I mean, how do you go about training a champion hurdler when your C V is full of National winners?He held an impromptu conference with Little and Carl came up with what for him was a stroke of Celtic genius by suggesting he ask a proper racehorse trainer what to do. Problem being, of course, that he only knows Big Nose Bailey and that Philip Hobbs and they're not even Welsh. Still, they've both trained a Champion hurdle winner so it can't be that hard and in the end he swallowed his pride, then another large gin and soda, and put a reverse charge call in for some advice. We'll have to see how it goes, but I'm not holding my breath. Big Nose's was so long ago that he's probably forgotten it, while it's a good bet that Hobby's wife, Sarah, is really the trainer so he'd be better off asking her.

Meanwhile, Carl was sticking his little chest out all proud at the news that 3 new owners had been signed up to join those other poor sods already sentenced at Grange Hill Farm. Apparently the new converts had succumbed to Little and Large's recently launched charm offensive, a new strategy with the same sort of taste,appeal and style as Ladies Day at Aintree. So there we have it. A leading fancy for the Champion Hurdle in the stable and new owners being charmed off the trees. What on earth is going on? Next thing you know they'll be talking about Gold Cups too and I'll be getting that pay rise............

Thurs 10th: - tucked away in the nether regions of yesterday's bible was another doom-laden report on the financial difficulties confronting racing over the coming year. Deliverer of the blindingly obvious was some bloke called Sutcliffe. No, not the Yorkshire Ripper, but someone purporting to be the Sports Minister, a position that's played host to a line of eminently forgetables across the years. That he gave his warning in traditional "political speak" should surprise nobody, but we have all, of course, still got to decipher what he really meant. Always assuming that he knows, which is doubtful. Starting with the astonishing news that, " this has been a difficult year for racing" he then treated his audience at the Gimcrack dinner to some early comic relief by sending his views in a written statement rather than appearing personally. Which rather says it all, doesn't it? But wait! All is not lost in respect of Racing's place on the country's sporting stage because he's aware of future challenges, including levy concerns, but with a show of unity from within everything should work out fine. Particularly as this year he's "supported and been interested to hear about the combined afforts across the industry on the Racing For Loose Change project". Gratifyingly Sutcliffe," will continue to follow developments", thereby confirming to his audience at York and then the rest of us that a) this Govt couldn't give a toss about Racing and b) the Sports Minister's level of understanding of Racing For Loose Change and its ringleaders is on a par with Tiger Woods' chances of winning Husband of the Year. In short, it's the standard politician's response - general psychobabble including mention of an existing body to reassure and demonstrate market awareness, all of which adds up to, and delivers, sweet Fanny Adams. Oh well, I at least have more productive things to do, starting with rinsing through my smalls, which compared to Nigel's are precisely that.

I think he must have got wind that I want more money because he shot off to Ludlow today like a scalded cat. He likes the roast beef there, you see, whereas I think the pork pies take a bit of beating. Hopefully he'll return with another win under his ample belt in which case I'll probably give it a go. I'll have to be quick, mind, because word has come through that mum's had a bit of a tumble at The Ewe Inn. Apparently she and Taffy the Boot, so called because he always carries a wellington under his arm, were enacting the wheelbarrow joke for the edification of the public bar when the steering went awry and he pushed her down the cellar steps. She's a trifle stiff behind and is reportedly a bit black and blue, so as the dutiful daughter I'm going down to look after her for the weekend. Maybe I'll get the chance to hone my wheelbarrow skills with Taffy too. It might help me remember the joke's punchline and if so I must make a note to tell you when I get back on Monday..........

Weds 9th: - where do you think that saying, "sitting on the horns of a dilemma" came from? Search me. Sounds like it could have been Ann Summers, but that's no more likely than its origins being traceable to the clientele of The Ewe Inn back home. Come to think of it though, that's not altogether out of the question. Whatever, I'm sitting on a horn at the moment and it's not as pleasant as it sounds. For I'm thinking, you see, that it's about time I got a pay rise in recognition of the increasing workload here and my all round contribution to the stable's expanding fortunes. It's not just me who thinks I'm worth more. I've had letters, probably from men with predictably dubious motives, but that's by the by, telling me I'm worth more and even Bennett at the pub was extolling my virtues the other day. He was totally out of his tree at the time, but that's par for the course and you could still tell that he meant it. Well, you probably couldn't, but he's sincere beneath the idiocy so I gave him the benefit. Problem is, of course, how to raise the subject with Nigel, a man who once attempted to register Grange Hill Farm as a charity worthy of funding by the National Lottery? I think I'll have to sleep on my dilemma and choose my moment, but if you bump into him at the races would you be good enough to put a word in? I think I'm worth a bit more than the minimum wage, don't you?

I've just put my feet up for coffee and a well earned rest while reading today's Post and there are two articles, conveniently positioned side by side, that you should take time out to read. Ian Carnaby doesn't write for the paper that often which is a pity because his nostalgic output should be remunerated by the word. There are some excellent writers on the paper now, but his offerings always stand inspection and today's piece on the late Bill Wightman is another gem. Alongside this, Peter Thomas's feature on Georgie Brown, Paul Nicholls' partner and aspiring model for Cheltenham's "Ladies" day at the Festival, faced a near impossible task. That both feature and lady coped quite well in comparison to Mr Carnaby tells its own story, but the merits of Ladies days, which now seem to crop up at just about every racecourse in the country, are yet to convince. The good news for Cheltenham and ex-trainer Georgie, however, is that I'll be adding a touch of elegance and unrivalled Welsh femininity to the Thursday of the Festival - and I'm prepared to do it for nothing. I generally do. Whilst editorially loitering around Ditcheat, so to speak, I was gobsmacked to read the other day that Lucky Break, the Nicholls' autobiography, is now in its 7th re-print. Can this possibly be true? I wouldn't have thought that it would have been economically viable for the publisher to print off additional copies one at a time........

 

Tues 8th: - there was drama at the breakfast table today when the trainer, deeply engrossed in the Racing Post at the time, suddenly stiffened, went a sickly puce colour and the veins in his neck began to stand out like Popeye's biceps. Initially I wasn't sure what to do - top up his gin tumbler or put a call in to "Walt" Disny, the local G P, to get over here pronto to try and stave off what had the makings of another corpse. I was right to be worried, for as it turned out Nigel, whilst glancing at Today's Birthdays, had stumbled across the fact that he'd forgotten it was Raymond Mould's 69th.The long time owner, pantaloon benefactor and general stable stalwart had hit the magic soixante neuf, a milestone to which the master of Grange Hill Farm was oblivious as he contentedly demolished his morning kipper. Needless to say, the manure hit the fan quicker than Carl exits the Hollow Bottom when it's his shout and my cleaning duties swiftly went out the window as I was despatched on a shopping mission to retrieve the situation. Speaking personally I don't think that silk underwear is much of a present to mark a gentleman's 69th birthday, even personalised Y-fronts of green with white stars. Raymond will probably be quite touched at the thought, though and may even wear them once or twice before gifting them to a more needy recipient. Which was likely the plan all along.

For us to have a runner at Fontwell is unusual. For it to be our only runner of the day could be construed by some as almost a tip on its own, so those who played at 16/1 will doubtless be feeling pretty pleased. Blinkers seemed to help Comprimario compared to his debut run at Folkestone, but the 1/6 favourite falling was possibly a greater factor in the equation. The sting in the tail for Tom Molloy came in the form of a 2-day ban for a whip offence, but this will be of no comfort to Paddy who's currently sitting out 3 days for similarly upsetting the stewards. Who'd be a jockey? Still, a winner's a winner and that makes 43 for the season. With no runners tomorrow most people here have got the day off as Hexham and Leicester will have to go ahead without us. Which reminds me of one of life's great racing oddities. How can Leicester's chase course always offer such different going to the hurdles track? Tomorrow it's good to firm over fences, heavy over hurdles. Work that one out. Happy Birthday Mr Mould - I've made a note of the date and next year I'll remind him earlier.........

 

Mon 7th: - well, my weekend turned out to be cracking, albeit interwoven with some slightly "iffy" moments. Me mam got a bit excited down the at The Ewe Inn on Saturday evening, but she's prone to do that when her Cream Label consumption hits double figures and fortunately two of my cousins were there to help carry her home. I must introduce Nigel to the Ewe one day- I reckon it would be his sort of establishment. Earlier I'd had a lovely time with Carl at Chepstow even though he didn't saddle a winner from our 3 runners. He'd obviously been to see Mort the barber as he looked like a smart and slightly bigger version of Action Man - a reasonable analogy judging from the number of ladies who seemed to be laying in wait for him every time he went to saddle up. I've never seen one man on the end of so many kisses. It's disappointing, but what with me being over 30, only by a year or so mind you, I'm probably a bit old for him, but you never know. He was doubtless the catalyst for the description, "small, but perfectly formed" and with him still holding his riding licence I bet he's jolly fit with it. What a delicious thought, but for the moment I'll just ensure that a bit of extra effort goes into cleaning his house. I certainly wouldn't mind give him a good dusting down one day, though.

When I opened the Racing Post on Sunday you could have knocked me down with a feather. That Steve Dennis had only gone and devoted the "big" interview to Derek Thompson and seemed to be of the view that the "big fella" was a bit misunderstood and possibly shouldn't be so maligned. Sorry Steve, no takers here! The man's a wassock and if he is in fact misunderstood it's because nobody can get their head around even attempting to understand why such daft questions fill his repertoire. It was another very readable interview though, from a jounalist who by now may even be the latest holder of the Clive Graham Trophy for Racing Journalism. Tomorrow's paper will reveal all, but Tommo, following hot on the heels of Motty and cuddly Carl, is an interview trend that makes you wonder who might be up next. What odds Freddie Starr, the hampster eater?

A couple more winners across the weekend got us moving again, but there were also a stack of placed horses to be filed under the "nearly" heading. With Cheltenham coming up on Fri/Sat we're likely to be fairly quiet across the next few days so I should be able to catch up with my chores and get Nigel's best suit to the cleaners just in case he has to go in front of the cameras again. Please don't let Tommo be holding the microphone - it could end up as racing's equivalent of the Michael Parkinson and Emu debacle............

Fri 4th: - there was great excitement this morning when I saw the headline in the Post while helping Nigel dunk his soldiers in his boiled egg. He always makes such a mess and even with my help he still got yolk all down the front of his nightgown so that'll be more washing for me. Still, the news that Channel 4 are to re-vamp their racing product meant that Nigel's cameo performance as Humpty Dumpty was scarcely of account set against the possibility that we might in future be spared the inane ramblings of the supreme irritant that is Derek Thompson. A budget cut of circa £800k will supposedly not have any negative impact on the number of meetings covered, but will lead to a segmentation of the programme with a clear division between the coverage of Jumps and Flat. In many ways this mirrors the growing gulf in public interest between the 2 codes and should, as a bi-product, inject some fresh thinking and content into what has latterly been seen as an increasingly jaded offering. With Alastair Down and Alice Plunkett hosting the Jumps meetings the information and quality of the transmission content will be pretty much guaranteed, so if they can do something with those dreadful Dubai sponsorship credits we could even end up with some watchable fare. As for the Flat side of things, well, frankly who cares? The nature of a budget cut of the level intimated would, however, seem to point towards a cut back in the presentation team and it's this prospect that really got me skipping round the kitchen. For if there is indeed a broadcasting God, please let him fire a P45 in the direction of "the Big Fella" and if just one jockey would also tell tedious Thommo where to position his microphone during a post-race interview, then the viewing figures would likely double overnight. And I'd be a very happy bit of Welsh totty.

After the heady heights of a couple of weeks back and aided by a dodgy 'photo or two, the Jump Trainers Championship table is starting to take on a familiar look. The devil from Ditcheat is looking down again on his toiling rivals, but the Fat Farmer From Naunton continues to be handily placed in the number 2 slot with prize money close on £600k and 39 winners. In fact both Nigel and Carl view the Ditcheat/Naunton competition with equanimity - they're both much more concerned with how things are going between us and Big Nose Bailey down the road at Andoversford. In fact BNB had a winner this week- which is more than we've done - an event which caused much gnashing of false teeth and sticking of pins in the nose effigy that Nigel keeps by his bed. Big Nose has now clocked up 12 winners and would apear to be well and truly back from wherever it was that he went.

For a change I'm going to go with cuddly Carl tomorrow and take in Chepstow - terrain where he's viewed as something akin to a saint once across the Severn bridge. Doubtless I'll have to pay the toll again. Apart from the pitiful prize money dispensed via Northern Racecourses and going that will now be on the sticky side of bottomless, it should be a classy day out, so as ever I'll be dressing accordingly. And the real beauty is that being half way home to the promised land all I'll have to do is hook up with a punter up from the valleys and blag a lift home to see me mam. Should be a doddle - I'll be there in time for tea which I'm hoping might even be celebrated with a winner that will finally get us into the 40's........

 

Thurs 3rd: - shades of Mystic Meg. Tomorrow I'm going in for a bit of what my mum refers to as "tidying up", so with amazing foresight I'll now tell you on Weds evening what's going to be occurring here 24 hours hence. Actually it's not that difficult - in fact it's as simple to prophecy as bestiality is in the Brecon Beacons, so I wouldn't want anybody thinking that I'm an old witch. We've no runners tomorrow and Little and Large will therefore be loafing around again so it's a good time to take leave of absence for a little remedial work down below. I'm rather hoping for a bit of luck with the surgeon - strong young hands wouldn't be a bad start, but enough of my problems - Grange Hill Farm will doubtless survive my absence.

Although I'll be away for the day, believe it or not I did stumble across an article in Owner & Breeder that seemed to be drawn from a vaguely sensible premise. More surprisingly it had Mr Bumble's name on it so here's a first - a level of agreement between him and me. Whatever next? Nigel getting a citation as a great orator, maybe? Mr Bumble seems to think that it would be to Racing's benefit if there was only one dedicated television channel as opposed to the two that exist currently. I've been saying this for years, but possibly not for the same reason. Apart from questioning the business rationale of an apparent over-supply situation within such a limited market I've resolutely declined to pay two subscriptions on the expectation that one of them had to go belly up eventually. Notwithstanding my continuing financial disappointment, it does seem a crazy and counter-productive situation for Attheraces and Racing UK to be continually scrapping for racing's audience. A not dissimilar analogy would be the dear old Sporting Life (R I P) and the Racing Post. Some markets simply aren't big enough to support dual suppliers. Well spotted Mr Bumble!........

Weds 2nd: - I hate it when there's no racing. Nigel and Carl just sit around all day doing nothing apart from swearing at their Playstations and winding each other up. Today was even worse because apart from them squabbling I had to contend with the antics of Queen Vic's dogs as well. They had their heads in the laundry basket this morning and before I could hitch up my skirt they'd grabbed a leg each of a pair of Nigel's longjohns and run off down the gallops with them for a game of tug o' war. Apart from causing mayhem with first lot who were out at the time, the pants, as you might imagine, didn't emerge from this too well. Each dog ended up with just a leg each, so unless Jake the Peg is going to pay us a visit I'd say that the pants are about as useful as Carl's new account with High and Mighty. I got onto Mr Mould via a SMP text (send more pants) to see if his knicker drawer is scheduled for another clear out. Bloody dogs!

I took the latest issue of Owner & Breeder up to bed with me last night along with my cocoa, but it was all a waste of time. Before I opened it I had a senior moment and couldn't get my vest off over my head for what seemed like ages. I remember the days when I could be stripped and ready for action in about 2 secs flat, but somehow the old dexterity's not what it was - I did get the hump! And then O. & B. made things even worse with, yet again, bugger-all coverage of the Jumps scene. It did say December on the cover and I think most of us would subscribe to the view that the Winter game is now in full swing, but not if the editorial content is anything to go by.When will the Flat-obsessed administrators of racing accept that their segment of the sport isn't the be-all and end-all? Frankly it's just the end. If they'd been at Newbury on Saturday to witness the excitement that top class N H racing can generate then the penny might start to drop and there'd possibly be a more equable split of coverage and prize money. But I doubt it. The self-interest is mind-boggling.

Sad, in a way, to see Harchibald trot off into the sunset. Often written up as one of the great under-achievers, all I'll say is that I wouldn't mind owning any horse who "disappointed" as often as he did. As the bible said, enigmatic he may have been, but he had more raw talent than the whole cast of X Factor put together and leaves some great memories......another unseemly squabble has broken out here over who was the inspiration behind the naming of Cotswold Charmer, who ran with a hint of promise at Hereford yesterday. Nigel maintains that it's obviously him , but I'm with Carl on this one. The trainer does talk some bollocks at times, doesn't he?..............the omission of Tony McCoy from the ten nominations for BBC Sports Personality of the Year has predictably generated a "disgusted" response from "outraged" of Upper Lambourn. Forget it and get a life. We all know McCoy's prowess relative to most of the names on the list, but Racing's made a crap job of generating interest amongst Joe public and the BBC has de-listed it big time. But everyone with a scrap of intelligence will recognise that the only name that the sport regularly throws up is a NH jockey. Racing For Loose Change and Owner & Breeder please note......

 

Tues Dec 1st: - it was only at lunchtime today that I found the time to sit down and watch the recording of Saturday's racing, viewing that again had me squirming with embarrassment on behalf of poor Sir Peter O'Sullevan. I know I've been there before, but for the Voice of Racing to suffer the ignominy of reading Channel 4 Racing's sponsorship credits promoting Dubai as a destination is truly cringeing. Have more banal copy lines ever been written? Has such an admired and recognisable voice ever been so mis-matched with the product, particularly now that Dubai is looking increasingly likely to join the ranks of the insolvent? It's akin to Nureyev being asked to perform the sand dance and almost as excruciating as listening to Derek Thomson interviewing Cilla Black at Newbury. Truly stomach churning stuff.

One thing I forgot to mention about my Newbury outing was the propositioning that inevitably came my way. As anticipated, gaining entry to Mahiki was a formality - a Welsh rare bit is always in demand - but I was aghast when some old bloke from Yorkshire lumbered up to try his luck. Talk about corny chat up lines! First up he let it be known that he was a fully paid up member of the stable's racing club, Jump For Fun, which was a bit of a joke as he didn't look capable of a jump and certainly struggled in the fun department if his next line was anything to go by. Allegedly he's a bird fancier if you please! I had to humour him of course, as Nigel needs all the owners he can get - even one from Yorkshire, but it was hard work I can tell you. For a bit of respite I considered seeking out an interview with Derek Thomson, but decided to stick some pins through my nipples instead.

A few random thoughts from the last few days. First, another winner from Jim Old for long time supporter, Wally Sturt, estimated at being around the 300th that the duo have had together across the last 30 odd years. Loyalty pays off, which is always good to see, although an increasingly rare commodity. I wonder how many winners Nigel has saddled for Raymond Mould to date? Quite a few I fancy, but probably not yet 300..........Nice feature on up and coming local trainer and NT-D "old boy", Martin Keighley in the Post yesterday. He seems to be making a bit of a name for himself..... The Kauto Star vs Denman hype undoubtedly gives racing a real opportunity to promote its wares - one you instinctively feel that not even Racing For Loose Change can cock up. But am I the only one who thinks, to use the terminolgy of today's youth, that to make this a 2-horse race 4 months ahead is somewhat "disrespectful" to other contenders?......My memory isn't quite what it was, so I can't recall if it was Emma Lavelle or Lucy Wadham who, in response to the question, "What one change would you make to benefit Racing?" answered "Put Inspector Clouseau in charge - he can only bring about an improvement". Very telling and perceptive. Could hardly have put it better myself..............

Mon 30th: - I crept back into Twiston Towers in the wee small hours this morning accompanied by something of a headache. I won't be going into too much detail about the component parts of the weekend - suffice to say that it was a highly satisfactory couple of days during which my physical flexibility and mental dexterity stood out, even if I say so myself. Much like a flaming sunset over Milford Haven's oil tanks, with me it's also a case of once sampled, never forgotten. Unlike Newbury's Mahiki which should be re-named Kon-Tiki and immediately forgotten by being either torched or cast adrift, first ensuring that the owner of this cacophonous monstrosity and the Newbury personnel who sanctioned its inclusion on Hennessy Day be lashed together on board and quietly dispensed with. As a venue for the brain-dead well versed in the skills of lip reading it might have something going for it, but as a racecourse "added extra" it fitted in alongside Denman as naturally and justifiably as Tiger Woods' ability to get his car past a water hydrant . And if Mahiki's existence wasn't bad enough, Newbury then took winning connections there for a glass of celebratory fizz and the race replay! Call me old fashioned, but to have this accompanied by music blasting out at a decibel level that rendered speech well nigh impossible and then run out of glasses did rather smack of the concept not being terribly well thought through. But hey, let's talk about Denman instead.

Brilliant, wasn't he? It was one of those days when everyone who made the trip to Berkshire can file the experience in their memory bank and say in years to come, "I was there". In terms of raw equine power he's a rare sight to behold and though Tom Segal's view that it may not have been one of the stronger Hennessy's could stack up, it was still an impressive display of jumping and galloping. Today's paper erred, however, and at the same time portrayed Paul Nicholls as being more than a touch arrogant, by attributing to him the thought that he'd no idea which of his 2 chasing megastars will emerge victorious in the Gold Cup. So no other horses are in with a shout then? Nothing else likely to turn up and face the starter? What about the one with his head poking over the stable door only yards from where I lay my head? He, and a few others, may yet have a telling say on the outcome of the Kauto vs Denman rivalry that's anticipated to peak next March. That would put one or two noses out of joint, wouldn't it?..........

Fri 27th: - I'm all of a tiz as I've decided that I'll pay Newbury another visit tomorrow in spite of it now being a nightclub with a bit of racing tacked on. Trouble is I'm going to have to switch into overdrive today to get all my chores done otherwise Nigel will likely cancel my weekend pass. He didn't help this morning when he got in a panic while trying to dress himself before he went off racing. Queen Vic helped him with his shirt buttons which he often struggles to match to the correct holes, but then he threw a right wobbly when he couldn't find a pair of matching shoes. Eventually I saved the day when I located one under his bed and another in the dog's basket. It was a bit chewed but by the time he gets some mud on them I don't suppose he'll look any less than his usual elegant sartorial self. I'm going to make a big effort tomorrow as well - probably take my dancing wellies and blag my way in to Mahiki to check out the local gentry. They'll doubtless be grateful to have a bit of Welsh class on board to attract the punters and another Best Turned Out could well be heading my way.

No luck with our runners yesterday and today's pretty quiet too. Tomorrow we've runners at 3 courses though, so it's going to be all hands to the pumps. I reckon Nigel will be at Newbury again so I'll get his shoes ready this evening and hope for the best. If he's in a good mood he may even give me a lift, but in any event I've decided not to wear my wellies for the journey. I'll keep them in a carrier bag in case they don't like the look of me at the Owners & Trainers entrance. If all goes to plan I may not make it home, so don't worry if I'm listed as "missing" for the next couple of days. I'll aim to crawl back to Naunton by Monday with another winner or two safely bagged. Here's wishing the horses bon chance too.....

Thurs 26th: - my cousin, Dai, who does a bit of horse transport mixed in with his main interest of sheep sexing, has got me a members badge for Newbury on Saturday, but I'm in two minds about going. I'm not very keen on the course, you see, or to be absolutely honest, I don't much care for the attitude of the people who work there. If anything they're even worse than the bowler hatted Gestapo who terrorise racegoers at Ascot. Last time I went to Newbury I didn't enjoy it at all, which was a pity as I'd made a bit of an effort. I took my curlers out and had ironed my pinny, but apparently this wasn't good enough for them to allow me in the Members' enclosure. Another cousin, Evan, had similar problems. They wouldn't let him in either because he didn't have a tie. He did, actually, but it was round his waist to keep his trousers up. Never let it be said us Welsh aren't stylish. Both of us got in by nefarious means eventually, but the problems didn't end there, they carried on inside as well. Being well connected I was in possession of an ROA badge, but when I went to have a port and lemon in the Owners & Trainers lounge I was refused entry on account of not having that day's owner's pass. The jobsworth on the door said he'd only let me in if I went back to the entrance, got the missing piece of cardboard and showed it to him. Problem was it was tipping down by then and the entrance was 200 yards away so I had a bit of a sense of humour failure and did something I very rarely do. I told him where he could stick his bit of cardboard and went down Barry Cope's stall to vent my spleen on a jellied eel. Cheek of the man, but they all seem a bit "nobby" at Newbury - too many trilbies and not enough chins if you ask me. So I'm not sure I'll bother this time. I'll just see how I feel on the day.

I've just read in the Post that Newbury is opening a cocktail bar cum nightclub in the racecourse for the 3-day meeting. It's called something poncey like Mahiki and will be open between midday and 2 in the morning for cocktails and partying. Ye Gods- whatever next, a bit of pole dancing perhaps? Why not forget the horses, dispense with the racing, get a boy band in and switch the Hennessy to Plumpton? Or anywhere that hasn't lost track of its racecourse origins. I might just give Newbury a miss and do some knitting instead.

I had to take something up to the top yard this morning and saw the ever nubile Cathy T-D while I was up there who, true to form, was pushing a wheelbarrow. You'd think she'd have somebody to do that for her, wouldn't you, but I suppose it helps keep her fit and trim. It reminded me that I still haven't told you that joke, but there - I've run out of space again. Another time maybe, and meawhile I'll have a mental casting session for who's going to play the wheelbarrow.....

Weds 25th: - I don't know about you, but I'm on the edge of my seat waiting for the next pearls of wisdom from the think tank that is Racing For Loose Change. They've been very quiet of late, but I see in today's paper that Mr Bumble has stirred and announced an initiative aimed at attracting more racegoers between the ages 18 - 25. Admirable as a concept and running under the banner of Racing For Youth, Mr Bumble sees this as being the key to getting more young people into racing, both by attending meetings and also dipping their toes into ownership by sharing in the careers of 4 horses in training. He describes Racing For Youth as, "a great incentive, especially to students". Hang on a minute, what about the horrendous loans that students, by and large, rack up during their university days? Many of them spend most of their life trying to get their finances back in some semblence of order after academia, so potential additional expenditure on racing may not be seen as the brightest way to top up the overdraft, unless, of course, they're students at the Harry Findlay College for punting optimists. All very well to wrap the RFY offering up with discounted entry to courses along with the chance to sample ownership in a "youth club" format, but I can't help thinking that here's yet another peripheral proposal. A further "new" invention from the marketing brains of Racing For Loose Change that sounds superficially plausible but may well prove to be impractical. Quite apart from any moral debate regarding the encouragement of the country's loan mentality that's almost buried us all in debt.

On a related theme it is worth asking why Racing appears so intent on attracting a "new" audience when so many of the supposed attractions dredged up to achieve this are, in fact, counter-productive. Call me old fashioned but I, together with racing friends who share my passion, go racing primarily to see the horses. They're the stars of the show and if the core product is supplemented by acceptable food and drink and somewhere to have a wee without waiting for half an hour then we're happy. We don't want pop groups performing after racing or gangs of students getting bevied up in the bar all afternoon to see who can vomit the furthest. We just want to watch the racing, a view that's shared by many regular racegoers if correspondence to the Post is anything to go by. It's not fancy marketing speak, it's simple common sense and Racing For Loose Change would do well to bear it in mind, because alienating the existing market is easily done and too often achieved.

I see that Banjaxed Girl, my namesake won again today under a fine ride by young Sam. That's another bumper winner for the yard and we've got lots of youngsters still to run so the new blood is full of promise for the rest of the season. No mention of pants today. Not really in the mood........

Tues 24th: - dreadful weather, isn't it? It's that wet and windy up here that dealing with the washing has become an exercise in self preservation. I went out to the washing line mid-morning to peg out a basket full of Nigel's pants when a great gust of wind took the leading pair of longjohns and the whole lot took off in the direction of Guiting Power. Apparently it frightened the life out of old Aggie in the village shop when a pair of blue spotted boxers wrapped themselves round her walking frame, but she soon recovered and now she refuses to give them back. She reckons they're some sort of trophy and apparently has let it be known that they belong to her boyfriend. She'll be really fed up when Nigel knocks on the door and asks for his kecks back, which I'm sure he will as I can't see Mr Mould letting him have any more this side of Christmas. Perhaps he'll have to go commando while we muster replacements, but N T-D doubling as the last turkey in the shop is a truly gruesome prospect and one that I'd really prefer not to think about.

I get regular fan mail you know. Me mam writes nearly every day to help with the spelling, see how I'm getting on and to check that I've done up the rubber buttons on my bodice to keep out the winter chill and other unwelcome visitors. Currently there aren't any, more's the pity, unwelcome ones that is, but it's been a bit quiet on that front lately. Even Gilbert blanked me in the pub the other day and he's not noted for being too choosy. However, I'm not yet desperate enough to respond to the overtures of Gary from Towcester who seems to be of the view that I'm just going to drop everything and share valuable time with him at the sub-Arctic Northamptonshire circuit. Let me just tell you, Gary, that if you think I'm the sort of girl who'd willingly be seen on a lowly grade 3 course in the company of similarly lowly punters, by which I mean rough, then you're on drugs. And as for the nerve of inviting me in February, well, I went to Towcester in February once and it took me about a week to thaw out. So all in all the answer's "No", but I might have a re-think nearer the time. Now had it been somewhere up-market like Ffos Las with the cream of society there wouldn't even have been a debate. But Towcester for a classy filly like me? I don't think so.

We're all getting psyched up here for Newbury's Hennessy Winter Festival and the joys of the accompanying traffic jams. I don't suppose Nigel or Carl will give me any time off to go so it looks like another snuggle up to Gilbert in the horsebox if I want to see some action. A winner or two would be nice as well, but first it's Chepstow tomorrow, assuming it's on. If it is and you go, check out Nigel's panty line in the paddock.............

 

 

Mon 23rd: - I was too upset to type yesterday as the disappointment of Saturday sunk in. I did go in the utility room once to give it a go, but the wind kept blowing the candle out and anyway, the backdrop of Nigel sobbing into his gin wasn't conducive so I gave up. I spent most of the day on my knees - in church you'll be surprised to hear - praying for a miracle. Nothing mega, you understand, like feeding five thousand people with one portion of cod and chips, just a simple plea to our Lord that he do something to restore the eyesight of that pillock of a judge at Haydock. Anyone who trades under the handle of Mark Ritchie-Noakes deserves to have the Timeform squiggle permanently attached to their being - in fact the hyphen alone is a bit of a give away. It's a potential sign of character deficiency in my book. Obviously I didn't pray hard enough because the events at Haydock in the aftermath of the photo finish are obviously as irreversible as they are damaging to both the standing of the course and Racing's image. Forget that most people thought, erroneously as it turned out, that the result would go the other way and ponder this. How can a Grade 1 course not only fail to supply the photo finish print to connections of the horses involved in the aftermath of the race, but still leave them in limbo the following morning? The newspaper print that appeared on Sunday was so blurred and indistinct as to serve no useful purpose and if anything today's official print in the Post was even worse. I showed it to my niece, Gwyneth, and her reaction was that if the mirror image is an accurate reflection of the side-on shot then it must be one of those joke mirrors at the fair that make you look a different shape. Nigel's got one in his bathroom - it helps him deal with reality. All in all an odd, not very illuminating and distinctly unflattering chapter of events for Haydock and the judge and/or Racetech - whoever finally shouldered the blame. One good thing did come out of it, though. I had a word with the Minister at Methodist Chapel and Sunday's collection is going to be put towards buying Mr Ritchie-Noakes either a guide dog or a guide to customer etiquette.

When Nigel goes off next on one of his exotic jollies I'm going to indulge myself and throw one of those " celebrity" dinner parties. One name that will certainly be on the list is Harry Findlay even though his presence will mean that none of the other guests are likely to get a word in edge-ways. Brash and opinionated he may be, but as Sunday's interview revealed he plays host to a shrewd brain that could, and arguably should, be utilised for Racing's financial benefit. The bookmakers wouldn't like it, but I wasn't planning on inviting any of them to my dinner party anyway. Sign him up for Racing For Loose Change, say I, to inject some much needed common sense and action to proceedings. One other thing about Harry is that he's a dog lover and they're invariably the real deal. I always feel that I'm in with a chance with a dog lover. He looks after old dogs too, so it should be fun and would give me the opportunity to say, " Big Fella Thanks" afterwards.

The trainer seemed to have perked up a bit when he got back from Ludlow today, well fortified by roast beef and claret. The re-acclimatisation with the winner's enclosure courtesy of Ackertac in the bumper also helped a bit and he was even muttering about sending a Christmas card to Haydock as a seasonal gesture of goodwill. In braille, of course, and he'll ensure it won't get there until well after the event..........

Sat 21st: - the competition for Grange Hill Farm's sharpest brain is, you'll be less than surprised to hear, not that intense. In a knife drawer crammed with fairly blunt instruments one person stands out, however, in having a cerebral cutting edge that's Group 1 standard in comparison to a fairly moderate bunch of handicappers. I refer, of course to the youngest member of the Twiston-Davies tribe, Willie, who has somehow defied a duff geneology hand by carving out a reputation as an astute assessor of equine ability and canny placer of the stable's runners. So knowledgeable is Willie when it comes to evaluating the form that it's rumoured that official Jumps handicapper, Phil Smith, has a direct line to Willie's bedside and discusses many adjustments with him before implementation. I see Willie's ascendancy as being full of promise for the future and look forward to the day when S. Twiston-Davies sits on top of the jockeys' table and W.Twiston-Davies holds the licence, a pairing that should mop up a few championships by putting that Nicholls character in his place. I'm sure they'll look after their dad in his dotage though, by sending the occasional gin and soda across to him as he holds court in The Hollow Bottom, a natural successor to Bennett, who by then will have been taken away by men in white coats.

I see that Matt Williams, scribe for the Racing Post, has thrown his weight behind newspapers by supporting the introduction of 48 hour declarations, thereby alienating the training fraternity even further. The core of his arguement lies in the premise that Racing particularly needs the print media to promote its wares and therefore this should be pay-back time. Fair enough where the daily national press is concerned, but regional titles can't reasonably expect the system to be tweaked just for them. Of the 40 million people who, it is dubiously claimed, read a local newspaper, how many go out of their way to actually buy one and what percentage of these go anywhere near the racing page, always assuming there is one? The net "add on" by reginals to national titles will amount to not a lot. Set against the well-documented problems that 48 hour declarations would bring, any related benefits would have to be filed under the heading, "not enough".

Oh dear! I've just scorched Nigel's pants. You'll probably be thinking that they must be well scorched anyway, but this is different. This one's on the outside. I was watching Imperial Commander on the run in at Haydock, you see, and got carried away with the excitement of it all, put the iron down and forgot about it. What a race he ran! I really thought he'd got back up and if his jumping had been as fluent as it usually is he'd have won. At least he shoved it up those supposed media experts, Tom Segal apart, who maintained he doesn't stay, including a couple of the owning syndicate. After the way he battled back after jumping the last, if he's a non-stayer then I'm employed by royalty. Though I suppose Queen Vic's a bit royal. The pants, by the way, are ruined, but I don't suppose that will stop Nigel from wearing them............

Fri 20th: - I went down to Carl's this morning and my immediate thought was that I'd let myself in to the wrong house.There was no washing up in the sink, the bed was made and the anticipated pile of ironing was notable by its absence. I'm no Einstein but it wasn't too difficult to work this one out, particularly when I spotted the Chanel atomiser on the coffee table. I deduced that this wasn't likely to be the new scent of Llewellyn as apart from anything else it's quite expensive. So he's obviously been entertaining again. Long may it continue, I say, as any lady who tidies up like this obviously makes my job easier. He had left me a note, though, asking if I could collect a parcel from the Post Office in Winchcombe later on. Seemingly he's worried about the prospect of being interviewed by Claire Balding now that the yard's on a promotional spree and having to peer up at her as she towers over him. So he wants to try out some platform shoes as a possible safeguard against the upturned box that they make Willie Carson stand on. Well, most people would agree that Willie looks a bit of a winkle, but Carl's much bigger than him. Maybe he could get away with standing on a telephone directory, or possibly two, as I'm not at all sure about platform shoes. I don't think Nigel would want the stable brought into disrepute via dubious fashion so I left Carl a note telling him I think it's a daft idea and to get his own parcel. Whatever happens he'll fall well short of the most hilarious sight ever seen on a racecourse, namely Richard Pitman in his days of sporting a syrup. In comparison to having a dead squirrel on your head wearing platform shoes is pretty much a non-starter.

I had to go to Winchcombe anyway to do some shopping and when I was down there I bumped into Mort the barber who made me chuckle. Apparently he's had Fergal in for a haircut, well, more of a follicle survey really, at the end of which Mort, in time honoured fashion enquired, "anything for the weekend, sir?" Fergal pondered this for a while before replying, "Bejeebers, I quite fancy Kayf Aramis at Haydock, but this information comes free as long as there's no charge for the haircut. And here's another tip," whereupon he gave Mort 5 punts and assured him they were still legal.

It's a big weekend for the yard with the Betfair Bowl at Haydock tomorrow and the Becher Chase at Aintree on Sunday. The media doubts about Imperial Commander staying 3 miles should be answered in the affirmative, but I just wish the rain had stayed away. I'll be watching on telly, but I'm planning on making the Christmas pudding this weekend so won't have much spare time. I must remember to put the old silver sixpence in this year and ensure that Nigel gets it come the day so that he gets to make a wish and we avoid another tantrum. Mind you, we fixed this last year and the wish fairy cocked it up. His old duffel coat was still hanging on the hook the following day.........

Thurs 19th: - have you noticed how media-friendly the Boss has become? You can hardly open a newspaper these days without a quote from Nigel about one of the horses or a jolly quip to test that our sides are still up to the task of holding us together. From Howard Hughes he's turned into something akin to Jordan, albeit with marginally smaller knockers and one senses that he's almost beginning to enjoy a role that he previously viewed with all the relish of succumbing to terminal piles. Not that he's ever had them. Terminally that is. Although on his grumpier days I've often wondered. Today the Post sought his views on the vexed question of 48 hour declarations, a subject to which trainers generally seem implacably opposed and the media, ostensibly the regional print variety, massively in favour. Which begs a rather obvious question, "who would be the main beneficiaries of such a move?" Regional newspapers especially, and print media generally, are in slow decay as, like it or not, media proliferates and electronic media grows like topsy. So why should the vagaries of the winter weather play second fiddle to the demands of the Bognor Bugle when it comes to applying some common sense to the issue? Surely only an asylum case would seriously advocate the case for 48 hour dec's against a solid wall of trainer resistance? Step forward Racing For Loose Change's newly appointed consumer PR director with a PR quote entirely in keeping with the time honoured waffle of marketing-speak. That the Newspaper Society state that there are 1300 regional titles with a readership of 40 million is not in dispute. What is indisputable is that regional titles are dropping like flies and that the nature of the question determining the claimed 40 million readers is dubious at best. Put very simply, regional newspapers are about as important to the future prosperity of N H racing as Nigel's pants are of interest to Girls Aloud. Neither pairing fits very well.

The same feature by Howard Wright did at least serve to remind us all of Carl's skills with a flying dismount. Frankly Frankie Dettori is a bit of a has-been when it comes to getting off a horse quickly, a skill which our assistant trainer spent long hours perfecting. I remember the horse concerned was by Turtle Island and owned by the late Peter Orton. I'm even pretty sure that it happened at Warwick, but can I remember the horse's name? Of course not. Must be getting old. I think it can safely be said, however, that the nag didn't much fancy novice chasing. Still, more exposure for the stable and further evidence that you just can't keep Little and Large away from the glare of publicity these days. Would that regional papers could qualify for this glare, as opposed to the glimmer that is their reality.

Lovely day at Folkestone on Tuesday. I'd never been there before and quite liked the place. Nice friendly people, blue skies and an orderly layout made for a nice day topped off by a couple of welcome "extras". Firstly, the excellent Simon Holt was on commentary duty and came off script with an off the cuff reference as the stable's Ammunition beat a retreat, " And Ammunition's rapidly running out of ammunition". Good stuff and so much better than some of the monosyllibic callers who I'll resist naming. Secondly, a master class in the art of dropping one out by Timmy Murphy on Lindy Lou. Is there anyone better at waiting in behind? Gentle hands too. Reminds me of one of my old boyfriends. Can't remember his name either!

No luck with our 7 runners today with three placed efforts the best we could muster. Tomorrow, being Friday, I'm due down at Carl's and should have plenty of time to re-arrange the furniture as he's being sent to Kelso, wherever that is. I do so hope that the debris of the week isn't too shocking for a Welsh methodist lady of mature years to have to behold............

 

Weds 18th: - you've no idea how difficult it is for me to blog regularly. Trying to produce bulletins from Bronwen and get all the housework done (now two houses to keep spotless remember) requires a lot of juggling on my part, not least because Nigel is blissfully unaware that I'm surreptitiously tapping the keys. For secrecy I have to do this in the utility room, which he never goes in as there's no drink there and the light bulb blew months ago and hasn't been replaced. It's not easy typing by candle light, I can tell you, but I do my best. Another light bulb wouldn't go amiss though and I'll see if I can slip one in when he's not looking alongside next week's Off Licence delivery. Frankly even if Nigel found my laptop he wouldn't know what it was. The other day I heard him ask Mrs Merton what the last posting day for Christmas emails was.

A pity that Hexham was lost to the floods today as we had 4 good chances of adding to our tally. The upside, at least for Carl, was that he didn't have to flog all the way to Geordieland, but the abandonment spelled bad news for me. With no racing to occupy them I've had them under my feet all day and I feared the worst when they started playing Beat Your Neighbour at lunchtime. Inevitably it ended in tears when Nigel tried to trump Carl's Mr Bun the Baker with Mrs Summers the Sex Therapist. Carl got over heated, had a nose bleed and threw a tantrum and it ended with my having to send them both out to the gallops to cool down.

That Richard Dunwoody carries a few demons around with him doesn't he? The extracts in the Post from his new book, rather tellingly titled Method In My Madness, tend to endorse the thought that life out of the saddle comes not remotely close, for all his subsequent self-flagellating adventures, to his days as a jockey. Some of his ideas are thought-provoking, however, not least the view that maybe the jockeys' title should be determined by prizemoney rather than winners. Where it all began to go pear shaped was his reference to The BHA's "marketing machine". What's that then? It was shunted out of the door months ago.

Last thought of the day concerns that vexed question, "who are the worst tipsters outside of Mark Winstanley and Italian Pete - trainers or jockeys?" The vote probably goes to the training fraternity if last Sunday at Cheltenham is anything to go by. Entering the course Sparky Bevis, yard grandee and former trainer in his own right, was confronted by a gate man enquiring what chance there was of the stable having a winner that day. "Can't see anything winning today" responded Sparky. Presumably he left the course by another exit after Khyber Kim's 9-1 romp?..........

Tues 17th: - I was so immersed in the events of the weekend that I completely forgot to pass on the latest view of Mark Winstanley, the Racing Post's Monday tipster and prime exponent of cockney rhyming slang. Well, in the light of his column yesterday he can justifiably be described as a total merchant banker for wondering in print whether there was any chance of "old man" Carl coming back to ride the horses following Paddy's fall on Little Josh at Cheltenham on Friday. That the question had its origins in a financial reverse for The Couch and is also slightly tongue in cheek completely ignores at least 3 rides of the highest order by Paddy across the last week. Conveniently choosing to overlook the level of assistance delivered from the saddle on The Great Alfie, Rory Boy and Khyber Kim, the verdict of the obese sofa loafer is apparently framed around, "one fall and you're dead". Poor Paddy! Jockeys have to get used to criticism, however ill-informed, but this was simply Winstanley talking through his obviously empty pockets. Anyway, Carl's too busy these days concentrating on putting the saddle on the right way round and collecting the rent. Quite apart from being 44.

It was only when I was reading the Steve Dennis interview with Carl in Sunday's Post (excellent, by the way) that I looked at some of the 'photo's and realised that the little tyke has been partaking of some cosmetic surgery. Gone is the pugilist's nose, legacy of numerous falls and even more numerous rent collections in Swindon, for now he gazes out at us like a small, but perfectly facially formed Pembroke choir boy. Walter Swinburn and Peter Pan look positively crinkly by comparison. The assistant trainer now looks so youthful that one can but wonder what else he's "on"? I must remember to have a good root round his bathroom cabinet when I'm next down at his house to check out what moisturiser he uses and why there's a dead chicken hanging in the bathroom. Whatever the secret, Nigel wants to know what it is and is also anxious to get in touch with the cosmetic surgeon for his own possible makeover. This, of course, would be on a slightly more onerous level - almost the surgical equivalent of painting the Forth Bridge and likely to require even more scaffolding. The phrase, "work in endless progress" springs to mind.

Another bumper winner with Kaybeew at Plumpton yesterday kept the score board ticking over nicely with Carl yet again successful in the saddling box. This was followed by Llewellyn being carded for the trip to Folkestone today and also the long haul to Hexham tomorrow. A few more weeks of this and Nigel reckons we'll hardly be able to tell them apart, particularly as he's sent off for his own elixir, a large jar of newt's testicles, to keep the ravages of age at bay and also to help sustain his position at the top of the Trainers' Table. How he intends to address the discrepancy of several stone is not immediately known, but apparently the forsaking of gin is not on the agenda.

I see that Racing For Loose Change has appointed a P R Director to get racing's good news message across to the general media. The new man used to run his own P R company, has shares in Flat horses and says that "his work so far has highlighted very useful information that we can act on quickly, which is important, because we have to make sure that ideas can be implemented". If somebody could unravel this further exercise in obtuse P R "speak" for me, not forgetting Tony Morris, we'd be greatly obliged..........

 

Mon 16th: - well, what a weekend that was! Hardly a minute to myself, what with the number of owners and house guests behaving as appallingly as I suspected they would and the number of our runners heading for Cheltenham. It was a true test of my housekeeping skills, but great fun as well and in the end everyone emerged just about alive with reputations as ever in tatters. It's hard to select a highlight, but my vote goes to young Sam riding his first Cheltenham winner and getting the ball rolling on Razor Royale on Friday. I'll confess that my purse remained tightly shut for this one as I'd lost track of the number of times that the horse had got to the foot of Cheltenham's hill on the bridle and then collapsed like a wet paper bag. This time he scooted up the hill like a freshly rogered rabbit to win by 23 lengths, a winning distance that had Sam's Dad hoping in vain that Phil Smith, the handicapper might take a charitable view. Further wins from Pettifour on his chasing debut and Khyber Kim in Sunday's big hurdle, the latter under another majestic ride from Paddy, meant that Nigel won the Top Trainer award for the meeting and in the process took Grange Hill Farm to the head of the Trainers' Championship table. Great news for all employees here as it is now anticipated that Christmas will be accompanied by an even larger sliceof Twiston-Davies generosity than usual. I'm thinking I might even be given an assistant too - anybody young, male and energetic will do.

The less said about the people who stayed here the better, so my lips will remain sealed bar the thought that it was somewhat lacking in taste, to say the least, that an attempt was made to enact the wheelbarrow joke in the sitting room late one evening. Mercifully the wheels came off quite early in the performance to spare my blushes as I had a tray of petit fours in hand at the time and nearly dropped the lot. The pusher should have received a ban for failing to keep a straight course.

Nigel seems to be particularly chuffed with his Top Trainer award, although quite why is beyond me. The award, courtesy of Thomas Pink, appears to have delivered the ultimate mis-match between sponsor and recipient. In terms of the perfect fit it's akin to Bill Sykes' dog winning Crufts, but I suppose he can always find a good home for a few tailored shirts. That nice Mr Mould's a bit of a snappy dresser and with his wife being on a high after Khyber Kim's win I see a potential barter situation arising centred on shirts and pants. This apart I can't quite get my head round what's going on here of late with the media. Suddenly the stable's gone promotion mad, with last week's gathering of the media here being followed by The Racing Post's excellent interview with Carl published on Sunday. There was one slight innacuracy in this, however, in so far as the Llewellyn wealth does not apparently stretch to the ownership of half of Swindon. The true figure is nearer to two thirds and Carl is therefore particularly happy to see his great chum, Mick Fitzgerald, out of hospital and back on his feet, sentiments that are echoed by all of us. Mick's return to rude health is very timely as quarter day approaches and Carl will be looking for assistance from his pal in collecting Swindon's rent. Last time he did this on his own and it took him weeks............

Weds 11th/Thurs 12th: - as you might well imagine there are few perks attached to this position, but the ability to go racing on a frequent basis is one of them. Getting there is rarely a problem as Gilbert and Steve, the father/son combination at Cotswolds Horse Transport, both have me on their wish list so to get a lift to Warwick yesterday was simply a matter of flashing a bit of cleavage. And it turned out to be a very rewarding "flash". Rory Boy's win in the feature 4YO chase was worth going a long way to see and a great tonic all round. The fact that he saw off a couple of expensive purchases from Nicky Henderson and Paul Nicholls added to the enjoyment factor, but really it was the way he dug in for the win that really warmed the heart. Harried all the way, Rory really slugged it out and jumped beautifully to cling to his lead. Every time Paddy asked he responded and although both main rivals looked to be going better at times he wouldn't be denied. Brave horse and brave jockey. For me it was certainly the Ride of the Week. No, make that the Month. Maybe even the Year. Brilliant! At the course I also had the bonus of bumping into that nice Sarah Hobbs who saddled a promising sort to land the opening novice hurdle. I told her about my flower problem for the weekend and she told me not to worry - she'd bring some with her which will certainly save me from having to raid someone's greenhouse. Bless her. Don't know where her husband was, though. Probably at home with his feet up.They're all the same, aren't they?

It's an exciting week. For starters we finally saw the back of The Bleeders' Cup and then the Post published the season's Flat statistics, a sure indicator that the stage is now clear for the real equine stars. There's always the annoying backdrop of the bookmaker-inspired fodder of camel racing on the all-weather, but nobody with more than a single brain cell takes that seriously so here we go! To mark the event the trainer went overboard this morning and sullied his hands with some P.R. Pages 4 & 5 of the Racing Post were almost set aside for a Twiston-Davies news bulletin which was good to see, if somewhat out of character. His reluctance to participate in the paper's Stable Tour series is an indicator of his indifference to publicity and every time I tell him he's wrong he just calls me a Welsh witch and tells me to bugger off. Charm personified as ever!

Well, we're just about set for the weekend, but I'm going to be really busy so won't be able to bring you more news until Monday. I've got the hugely expensive crested family silver to ready, an endless supply of vintage Krug to dispense and more canapes to prepare and serve than you could shake a stick at. Actually that's the script for Nicky Henderson's house party - just checking that you're paying attention. I'm anticipating that an involvement with Little Josh at Cheltenham tomorrow could be a rewarding experience. Speaking personally I'd rather have Big Josh, but that's another story...........

Tues 10th: - I don't know what I'm going to do about these flowers. I had a bit of a brainwave earlier on that I'd be able to "borrow" some off the tables at The Hollow Bottom, but Nigel must have pulled this stunt before because when I went down there it was to find that Hugh's fine selection of artificial blooms are screwed to the tables. Faced with this level of Celtic parsimony I'll probably have to raid somebody's greenhouse under cover of darkness to get the job done.

A better result with our runners today, with The Great Alfie being given a well executed ride by Paddy at Exeter to land the 3 mile h'cap hurdle and a few nice bets alongside. This was winner number 30 for the yard and the 26th for Paddy so the signs are good as we head for Cheltenham's Open meeting at the weekend. Being busy with the great Flower hunt I didn't get much time to read the Post today, but not for the first time I was left to wonder how Pietro Innocenzi is allowed to publicise his wares as a tipster. It's not his fault that he's got such an improbable name, but really, he's got to be good to overcome that sort of handicap, hasn't he? Sadly for him his 2 tips today were both out with the washing again and perhaps he should consider a name change or combining his prophetic talents with Monday's resident tipster, Mark Winstanley. Mark's column is always worth a read, not necessarily for the quality of the tips, which frankly are roughly on a par with those of the innocent Italian, but are least they disappear down the plughole accompanied by a high level of editorial humour. I remember some years ago when The Couch, as Winstanley prefers to be known, was affronted by the "insulting" odds being quoted about Earth Summit in one of his races. His reaction was to offer to sweep out David Nicholson's yard with a broom up his backside if the horse got beat. He never had to perform the task, though I can't help thinking that Mark's particular skill with a besom could at least be put to good use here with me. Unlike Pietro whose name lends itself better to a career path giving out culinary tips rather than the equine variety........

Mon 11th: - I've been so busy that this is the first time I've sat down all day. After the weekend I count myself lucky that I can. Nigel always gets a bit twitchy on the count down to Cheltenham meetings and he's been barking at everyone so I've kept out of the way. With me having so much to do this was easy, although our paths crossed when I heard from Mrs Merton about the flowers. Apparently he wants flowers put in all the guests bedrooms at the weekend, but there's no sign of any dosh to buy them. I was going to go to that nice florist down in Winchcombe, but he seems to think I'll be able to go round the hedgerows and pick some for free. Does he realise it's November? Anyway, anything floral is likely to be lost on his mate Hobbs who's always a nightmare when he stays. The pair of them are like a couple of wobbling juveniles when they get together so I can only hope the rest of the guests help raise the tone a bit. I think I'll make do with some artificial blooms. Hobbsy will never notice and as for Nigel, well he thinks that a clematis is something to do with ladies' nether regions.

Today's trip to Carlisle with our 2 runners was almost as disappointing as it was long. Roll Along under the unusual booking of Graham Lee, (Paddy went to Southwell for one outside ride) ran no sort of race and was beaten a long way from home, offering no great encouragement for the Hennessy for which this seemed the ideal prep. Our other one was just edged out of 3rd under Tom Molloy in the Conditionals race so it will have been a long drive home in the horse box. As has been said many times before, they're not machines - unlike me.

I'm going to sit down after supper and do my 10 To Follow entry which I'll share with you once I've whittled down the long list. I'm not decided yet which ones I'm going to include from here. Maybe Pettifour now he's going over fences, possibly Ballyfitz and I won't be deserting Imperial Commander after the points he clocked up last year. Some lame brains in the bible are still maintaining he doesn't stay well enough. Unlike Philip Hobbs who stays far too long. Fortunately his wife's quite nice though and is well worth a few fresh flowers........

Sun 8th: - got home a bit earlier than I thought, my lovely, so here we are again to give you a round up of the weekend's events. First up, mystery solved! Apparently Carl had his nephew to stay for a couple of days and the lad brought his Roy Rogers cowboy outfit and left it behind when he went home. I knew there'd be a simple explanation. Still can't work out the buzzing suitcase though.

Well, it was an absolutely brilliant weekend. Gwyneth and me had a right result down the docks with a couple of Lithuanian hands off an oil tanker. Lithuanian sailors, as you know, are even fussier than Nigel is in choosing his outfit of a morning, so to be the pick of the paddock gave me a great feeling. And then I got another one - there's lovely! The horses have done marvellous too. Since my last entry we've had Jump Jet's flight path go slightly awry at Fontwell on Friday where 2nd place was okay, but not quite what we'd hoped for. Fontwell is one of those funny courses and my theory is that it was designed by the bloke who invented Scalextric - it's all twists and turns and would be better suited to 4 wheels than 4 legs. Some horses, including J J , simply don't look happy there, but Nigel and Carl felt we had to give it a go before JJ's revised rating came into play. Saturday more than made up for it! Amber Brook won the valuable mares h'cap for the second year at Wincanton and Nudge And Nurdle gave stable sponsor, Chris Coley, and his Yes No Wait Sorries gang a double by scoring readily at Sandown. I'm not sure they've had a double before, but either way it was a real red & yellow letter day for them with the combined prize money of £31k+ ensuring that new cricket bats shouldn't be in short supply next season. Sunday wasn't on the same level, but we had 3 more placed efforts to underline the horses' current well being as we count down to Cheltenham next weekend.

Monday's almost a blank day for us runner-wise as we've got just the one at Carlisle (make that two!) and are giving Southwell a miss, with nobody losing any sleep over the latter particularly, as the boys and girls in the yard have voted it the most boring racecourse on the circuit. Being as flat as a pancake with portable fences and a scenic backdrop of power cables topped off with the all-weather track, is a combination which makes Southwell's chances of ever being Racecourse of the Year as likely as Bennett, resident silly arse at The Hollow Bottom, joining the ranks of Mensa. And you can get any price you like about Bennett playing host to more than one brain cell............

Fri 6th: - I like a bit of Terry Wogan in the morning and it won't be the same when he packs up. Mention of his name reminds me that I must tell you the wheelbarrow joke some day, but not now as I haven't the time. Anyway, Tel had all manner of "foody" people on today and informed the nation that "cooking is the new sex", which I wrote down on a Post It note to stick on Carl's fridge door. He's not much of a cook you see, but I believe has other attributes. I've agreed with him that I'll go and clean on a Friday and today was my first trip down there since he moved in. When I let myself in it was obvious that he'd left for Fontwell in a bit of a hurry as his things were strewn everywhere, while a compact disc was playing endlessly on repeat. After several minutes of listening to I Want To Do Bad Things To You I turned it off. It was a bit early in the day for that sort of thing. I was a bit puzzled when I got to his bedroom as there was an array of whips laid out including one with a pink tassel. I know he's still got his riding licence but I reckon he'll get some stick if he takes that one racing with him. The set of spurs on the floor had, I thought, been banned by the stewards, but presumably he's got them in case he comes across a fractious mare. The black mask hanging on the bedpost didn't seem to fit in, but I suppose he must have been to a Halloween party. It was the handcuffs that really flummoxed me though, but presumably sometime in the past he's been arrested and hadn't said anything. Well, you wouldn't, would you? I decided to tidy it all away, including a locked suitcase that starting buzzing when I picked it up. Another mystery - why keep an alarm clock locked away? Doubtless he'll explain all when he gets back.

I couldn't stay very long as Nigel's given me the weekend off, this by virtue of having to do overtime next week for the Cheltenham Open meeting when we've got some owners coming to stay. I hope they'll behave, but we do have some very rough owners. I'm off now to team up with my niece, Gwyneth, and we're out on the town tonight on the pull in Cardiff Docks where a result should be something of a formality. I'll review the weekend on Monday, horses , cookery, sex et al and also hope to get to Ffos Las on theway back. Meanwhile only a few hours now 'til the Breeders' Cup. ZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

 

Thurs 5th: - Nigel arrived at the breakfast table this morning immaculately attired in silk dressing gown, cravat and monocle and sat down to a light repast of kedgeree and lightly browned toast - crusts duly removed of course. Then I woke up to remind myself, not for the first time, that I really shouldn't have cheese sandwiches and pickled onions so close to bedtime. Consequential nightmares are long odds-on and not generally rescued by the man himself. When he appeared for real it was to attack with gusto and what sounded like the backing of the wind section of the LSO, the best bowl of porridge to be found anywhere in the Cotswolds. It's all down to the oats, you see, something I know a lot about. He seemed to be in a particularly ebullient mood which I put down to having a bit of a touch on Banjaxed Girl, so I patted some errant oats from his chin with my pinny and asked what his views were on one of the hot topics of the moment, Self Certificates. He thought about it for a moment and then announced himself totally in favour, as in his view it was everyone's moral responsibility to certify themselves incapable if their journey home from the pub presented a problem. Apparently he'd even had cause to self certificate himself a couple of times over the years and felt very proud at such public spirited behaviour. At this point I decided that my time was probably better spent with Fergal in the tack room discussing the theory of evolution.

I see from the ante-post markets in the Racing Post that there are no less than 14 opportunities for sad people to have a punt on various Breeders' Cup heats over the next couple of days. These range from the alluringly titled Breeders' Cup Sprint (Pro Ride) to the Breeders' Cup Dirt Mile, not to be confused with the Breeders' Cup Mile (Turf). I think I'll just have an extra large cheese sandwich before bedtime and hope the nightmare's all over when I wake up.

Tomorrow we make a rare sortie to Fontwell with Jump Jet, our only runner, who will attempt to supplement his recent win under Paddy and a penalty. Presumably this will put Gilbert out of a job again and a combination of this and the current unheralded climb to 4th place in the trainer's table will doubtless have N T-D whistling merrily again at breakfast........

Weds 4th: - I'm really touched that Jilly Scott and her syndicate have named a horse after me and when it went and won the mares bumper at Warwick today my purse became quite flushed as well. So well done Banjaxed Girl and Paddy Brennan, who legged it across from Chepstow where he'd ridden earlier in the afternoon. Now you know why! According to the bible this was our first bumper winner of the season and it must be a good few years since Grange Hill Farm had to wait until November to break the bumper ice, but there's a good crop of young horses here so there should be more to come.

Those shy, retiring people known as Australians would have us believe that the Melbourne Cup is the greatest race in the world, to which I can only respond, "up yours cobber". Having got this year's renewal out of the way, mercifully while I was asleep, I won't be slow to remind our colonial cousins down under, of whom I've known plenty, that a 2 mile handicap with no obstacles is as nothing compared to 4 and a half miles and 30 fences. The nearest they've come to the real thing was with Crisp in 1973, when Richard Pitman got his navigation wrong up the run in. Next thing you know some half-wit will be trying to attach bragging rights to the Breeders Cup. Still, you can't expect too much from people who race on dirt, can you?

Tomorrow is a blank day for us. Haydock looks as though it could fall to waterlogging anyway and Towcester's card looks to be of a quality that nobody of right mind would pay entrance money to see. Nigel is due a day off after the exertions of driving his horsebox up and down the country and wants to spend some time calculating precisely how much money he saved as a result. There must even be a chance that I'll get paid promptly this week, so enduring is his impersonation of Mr Smiley. Being banjaxed ain't so bad when you've got such a model employer.........

 

Tues 3rd: - as the rain hammered on the kitchen window this afternoon, television pictures from Exeter revealed Nigel, the two stable staff, plus horses, basking under glorious blue skies. If ever there was a mix up with the sun shining on the righteous then surely this was it. In the big race of the day, which was a cracker, Mahogany Blaze ran his usual honest race to earn the Berryman's another £4k worth of place prize money courtesy of 4th place. Although he always seems to find one or two too good, he always tries his best and his tally of winnings, generally for making the frame, is now nudging £160k. Lucky Berrymans!

It's been a mixed few days for jockeys. Barry Geraghty's seen the ups and downs of the job, firstly with a 12 day ban after taking the wrong course at Wetherby and then riding his 1,000th career winner at Kempton. Somehow he doesn't seem to have been around for that long - or is this just further confirmation of the passing years on my part? A 12 day ban probably seems as nothing to Paul Carberry, stood down by the stewards at Naas at the weekend when he failed the breathalyser for the second time. One of the most stylish pilots of recent decades, as well as being the party animal par excellence, let's hope he can get back on track to display his skills for a few more seasons yet, although in his case time most certainly marches on. The thought occurs that it's just as well that trainers aren't subject to breath tests, as I've seen one or two across the years barely able to put their coats on, let alone a saddle.

It's been unusually quiet here today. Nigel's been amusing himself saving more money in Devon and Carl moved into his new house down in Guiting Power yesterday so I've been abandoned. I had a stranger knock on the door this afternoon though.The man was from Swindon council and looking for Carl, but seemed happy enough with a slice of my lardy cake instead. It seems the people in Swindon want to put plaques on the front of all the houses that Carl owns there - a bit like those blue plaques in London that indicate the famous names that have lived there. The idea was to produce one green plaque for each Llewellyn property, but when he found out that he'd have to fix one on virtually every building in Swindon and calculated the cost he realised that it would bankrupt the council. A simpler and cheaper alternative would be to scrap Swindon and rename it Llewellyn-in-the-Bank. The day ended on a good note with the news that SamT-D had passed his driving theory. Whether his father has obtained a diploma in the theory of Communications is still to be determined.......

 

Huntingdon yesterday by the manner of Kirby's Vic's win - gifted the race when the leader came down at the last. I tried for a heavenly double at Kempton today, but didn't quite have sufficient assistance from above to pull it off, though we came close. The eye-catching but ultimately disappointing Battlecry went from galloping to treading water in a matter of strides, with possibly another burst blood vessel being the culprit. This left him a long last of 4 runners entering the home straight, but 2 of the other 3 runners failed to negotiate the final 3 fences so we finished a remote 2nd. I suppose it was asking too much for all the other three to end up on the floor, but I'll be back in chapel next Sunday praying even more fervently. Maybe I can even get Nigel on his knees as well, although his last prayer centred solely on the provision of a large gin and soda.

The Kempton reverse didn't appear to have any negative effect on his mood. Quite the opposite in fact, as apparently he continued to be in new "communications" mode topped off by his unique brand of humour. In fact he appeared as happy as Larry, a mental state that I'm reliably informed was brought about by driving our one runner to the course himself, thereby saving on any outlay to Gilbert at Cotswolds Horse Transport. As we all know with Nigel, nothing generates as much joy as saving a few bob, so relatively speaking this was a bit like him winning the jackpot. Kempton was also the scene of a couple of other "events" with Jim Old declaring a runner and actually running him and Big Nose Bailey chalking up another winner. He's definitely back! All in all, some distinctly odd events to start the week.

A reward is offered to anyone able to concoct a draught that will ensure I sleep through most of this week thereby avoiding the stupefying boredom of the Breeders Cup. I would, though, appreciate being woken for tomorrow's Haldon Gold Cup, to which I'm led to believe Nigel is continuing his dual role of driver cum trainer. That'll be two lots of transport fees saved so it's turning into a memorable week for him...........

Sun 1st Nov: - I like to spend time on my knees on a Sunday so I put on my best frock to do the deed in chapel. In terms of attendance it was pretty much a walkover as they don't seem to be overly God-fearing around here. Most people seem to gather for prayers and holy water at The Hollow Bottom where Nigel, in particular, pays deep and respectful homage to Phil Smith, the handicapper. Today at least one of my prayers was answered as Kirby's Vic, our only runner, won at Huntingdon to give David England a welcome winner as Paddy had opted for the paddy fields of Carlisle. Such is the power of prayer that I'll be getting down on my knees again as soon as another suitable opportunity arises.

The sermon didn't cut much ice, majoring as it did on the evils of drinking, gambling and sex, the staple ingredients that treble up to keep Racing's show on the road and I found myself thinking back to Ascot yesterday. One thing the Berkshire course's new stand does deliver in spades is a healthy number of refreshment outlets and I'd deem it to be way ahead of other race courses in terms of catering facilities and places to sit. I still find it a somewhat soul-less place though, all glass and polished steel leading to the expectation that every time you look up to view tote prices on one of the monitors you'll see a list of flight departure times instead. And as for relieving you of £7 just to park your car, well, that's nearly a week's wages at Grange Hill Farm. Fergal moaned about it all the way home.

What a wonderful bloke that Barney Curley is, as evidenced by the article in the Post which gave us a flavour of his multi-faceted character, now very much a threatened species in today's sterilised p c society. Priest, racehorse trainer, punter and philanthropist help provide a flavour of the man and serve to explain in part why he's often been at loggerheads with Racing's Establishment over the years. He's certainly not one to either conform or mince his words, his views being effectively encapsulated by the quote, " I get so frustrated at times with the people who are running the show." Well, goodness me! There's yet another one. They seem to be popping up everywhere.

Final thought before I got on my knees again for bed concerned the Vet's editorial in Owner & Breeder which included a rather eye-watering and gory photograph of a colt in the throes of bidding farewell to his tackle. I think I'll cut it out and pin it on my bedroom door to help keep certain admirers at bay. On second thoughts, no I won't, but perhaps I'll put a copy in the post to Carl as a moving in present. In the unlikely event that the Royal Mail, as some of us fondly remember them, ever deliver post again it might serve to remind his guests that a surfeit of testosterone is easily remedied. Maybe I should send some secreteurs or a couple of house bricks by way of an instruction kit as well...........

 

Sat 31st: - buoyed by our double at Uttoxeter yesterday,where Bobby Ewing exceeded all expectations with the manner of his win, I decided to cadge a lift to Ascot today where Fergal was saddling our 2 runners. I just had the feeling that things were falling into place nicely and that the Naunton winner tap was about to be fully turned on so although our major hopes were heading for Wetherby I determined to be part of the live action in the south. Fergal, as ever, was a study in sartorial elegance and chose to perform his duties in a tailored black pullover that had probably been sent across to him in a Red Cross parcel by the Tipperary W.I. It was just as well then, that I was on hand to add some chic to proceedings. As it turned out the day went okay, but not quite as well as I thought and hoped it might, as all 6 of ours ran well but this translated into only one winner. This was Rory Boy at Wetherby, who landed a few nice bets (7's into 4's) and was a comparatively rare 4YO chase winner for us. Ollie ran a cracker again in the Charlie Hall and looked like winning the event for the 3rd time when he jumped the last in front but he just got run out of it, while time may show that Pettifour had it all to do trying to give Fair Along weight. Along with Palmito, 2 more seconds! To take my mind off things, notably Fergal's jumper, I had a flick through the new edition of Owner & Breeder on the way home and actually found an interesting N.H.feature on Donald McCain, son of the mercurial Ginger, who's fast making a name for himself at his Cheshire base. Leaving aside photographs this feature and one other Jumps article ran to 5 pages out of a total of 112 in the issue, which tells its own story about the magazine's editorial slant, a bias which in my view is one of Owner & Breeder's major shortcomings. There's one particularly telling quote from McCain jnr which seems to encapsulate the current gulf between Flat and Jumps. Consider this. ."I certainly don't think that Flat racing has done itself any favours.All-weather is colourless stuff and there's more to racing than punters and bookmakers. I've had some Flat runners this year but my lads say they don't enjoy going. It's a different type of person you're dealing with" I could hardly have put it better myself and wonder if the Racing For Loose Change mob will read it and possibly even take note?

Today's bible saw the return of Paul Nicholls' very readable and informative weekly article and prompted me to wonder how come his Saturday column is well worth digesting when his book extracts read like a 3rd rate juvenile crime thriller? Maybe it was just inept subbing by the paper. Yes, let's be charitable for a change and give the Ditchet P R maestro the benefit. Meanwhile I had to chuckle at our own communications guru when responding to Richard Pitman's question posed at Uttoxeter, "Now the season's getting into full swing will you be talking to the media regularly?" "Yes" came the answer. "Everyone except you." Nigel's so smooth, isn't he?.............

Fri 30th: - here we are on the brink of another weekend with the Charlie Hall Chase the highlight at Wetherby tomorrow. Or is it? It wasn't so long ago that this was recognised as the first "big" chase of the season, but it's lost some of its lustre in recenty years, not to mention prize money. Undeterred by the race suffering something of a fall from grace we're boxing up dear old Ollie Magern for another crack at what remains Wetherby's premier chase, a race in which he's always performed with distinction. With the weights favouring him tomorrow I'm keeping my fingers cross that the 11 YO still retains that distinctive Ollie enthusiasm. It would be great if he can pull it off again. We're looking to have runners at Ascot too, although it's not going to be as busy as last week so my mastery of the T V remote control isn't going to be put under the same pressure. Another that I'm looking forward to seeing back on the track is Pettifour who may well go novice chasing after a repeat bid in the Grade 2 West Yorkshire hurdle.

Once I'd packed Nigel off to Uttoxeter today I rushed through the cleaning and plumped up a few cushions as the dishy Ben Brain, the most cerebral vet in the business, said he'd pop in for a coffee. He could slip his rubber gloves on for me any time! Gwyneth, my niece, reckons I'm a bit old for this sort of thing and now qualify for a veterans chase, but there's plenty of enthusiasm in the tank and like everyone from across the Severn I'm a disciple of the "if it's breathing school", so I slapped on some Eau de Mouton and shimmied into my lowest cut pinny and waited. The bugger never showed, which was a bit of a blow especially as Nigel said only the other day that I scrubbed up okay. Mind you it would have rung slightly more true if he'd said it before he went to the pub. Still, it's among the nicest things he's ever said to me.

Anyway, I buried my disappointment in the Racing Post wherein I discovered yet another supplement, this one covering 20 years of racing on the All-Weather. Something must have gone wrong at Canary Wharf because this was merely branded as a Special Anniversary Pullout - no mention of "sensational" or any other superlative adjective to lure you in. So I didn't really bother, but did learn something in that the wonderful Viking Flagship ran on the all-weather, although it was over hurdles so at least it was proper racing. What a horse he was! Tough, game and always responded to pressure from the saddle. Bit like me really. Ben doesn't know what he missed...

Thurs 29 th: - 5 meetings today, 3 over jumps (if you include Clonmel) and just a couple of camel racing cards on the all-weather. That's more like it! I got up early to try and get my chores done in time for me to nip down the road to Stratford in the afternoon where we ran four, two of them in Nigel's colours with young Sam in the saddle. As it's half term this week his mum didn't have to ring the school again with the fabrication of yet another outbreak of swine fever to explain his absence. His headmaster must be a few marbles short of a full set. Either that or he likes a bet. It transpired that I got to Stratford eventually, but it was a close run thing. Nigel had a dose of the miseries this morning (I think he must have been late in from the pub again) and insisted that I clean the windows. As if I didn't have enough to do! "Why don't you pay a window cleaner?" I asked him, which was a daft thing to say as his blood pressure goes seismic when there's any prospect of a cash outlay. As ever, he hasn't got any cleaning gear, not even a chamois, so not for the first time I had to make do with a pair of old underpants. It's lucky that nice Mr Mould has such a copious knicker drawer and is so generous with his cast offs otherwise I don't know what we'd do.

When I eventually got to Stratford the first race was already off and I was in a muck sweat, , so I had to nip into the Ladies to ease out of my girdle and sponge myself down, which was easy as with a bit of forethought I still had the chamois pants in my bag. They were to see service right through the afternoon as, would you believe it, we had three more seconds! Go West, Civil Servant and Squinch all did their bit to extend our run of seconditus which did nothing for the trainer's mood, particularly when his mate, Big Nose, went home with the seller. Oh well, Uttoxeter and Wetherby tomorrow and let's just hope for a clear round for the Yorkshire track following the 4 fatalities at their last meeting. They deserve a change of fortune.

Last thought for today concerns Brough Scott's interesting article in yesterday's Post advocating the abolition of the weight for age factor for Flat racing. His basic premise queried both the historical application of the weight for age scale and the fact that it often obscured the identity of the horse laying claim to the title of Champion. Fair enough, but what about the 4YO allowance over Jumps which has long struck me as overly generous and massively in favour of French-breds who are generally more experienced at this early age. I wonder if the powers that be will see fit to review the whole Weight For Age structure? Even discussion would be a mark of progress, but then again so would the purchase of a chamois leather for my window cleaning - and I'm not betting on either........

Weds 28th: - the headline in the Post got me all of a tremble when I saw it across the breakfast table this morning. I was sure that The Perfect Couple would be all about Nigel and Venetia Williams so you can imagine my disappointment when I realised that it was only about a couple of Flat horses (retired) planning on getting it together. A couple of National winning trainers letting out a few of their trade secrets would have been much more interesting.

We only had the one runner today with Thai Vango making the long trip north to Haydock in a bid to supplement his recent Market Rasen success. He ran well but found one too good so we chalked up yet another 2nd to go with our growing tally of placed horses which now numbers close on 60. Hitting the bar is starting to get a bit monotonous! However, the season's not in full swing yet, though we must be nearly there if the bible's "sensational" guide to what lies ahead is anything to go by. This came with yesterday's paper and set me thinking on a couple of fronts, the first of which was that the Racing Post's headline writer would do us all a favour by being a bit less "sensational". It's only a 24 page pull-out for goodness sake, not some tabloid expose. He was obviously still in Paul Nicholls' Lucky Break mode when the task confronted him. Sensational, maybe simply Epic, or even just Riveting? Possibly none of these. The Jumps guide had some readable features within the hype though, as well as some interesting "specials" for those looking for a slightly different punt. Straight away I grabbed my purse and had a bit of the 13/8 available about Nigel training more than 85 winners. With Carl's extra ammunition on board and some of them looking reasonably handicapped it looks a fair bet to me. There are also a number of eye catching offers chalked up by celebrity bookmaker Billy Bowels so you may care to get on quick to some of the following "sensational" offers. Nigel to become teetotal - 200/1; Carl to make the Sunday Times Rich List - 9/4; Nigel to be awarded Best Turned Out - 1000/1; Fergal to stay up late on Christmas Eve watching for Father Christmas to appear down the chimney 4/6; Nigel to get new underpants for Christmas N.B. "new" as in "not previously worn by anyone else" - 33/1; Nigel to buy the staff a drink in The Hollow Bottom - 50/1; Carl to buy more than one owner a drink in The Hollow Bottom - 66/1; The Hollow Bottom double - any price you like; Racing For Loose Change to finally come up with something half sensible - no offers. To open your Bowels account simply ring 01451 850278 and give your credit card details. Something for everyone there, so fill your boots........

 

 

Tues 27th: - a quiet start to the day as Nigel's completely disorientated by the clock change and was still making disgusting noises under his duvet when first lot was on the gallops. When I woke him up with his Readybrek he jumped out of bed so quickly that he hit his head on his new Magic Roundabout mobile and gave himself quite a fright. He only calmed down when Queen Vic brought him his comfort blanket.
Later in the morning I had to take tea and buns up to Mrs Merton in the office and I overheard Nigel on the 'phone introduce himself to one of the owners as The Great Communicator! Somehow or other he contrived to do this with a straight face, so top marks to him for front, but really, this is akin to Carl claiming to be the World's tallest man or Big Nose Bailey coming second to Cyrano de Bergerac in a nose measuring contest. Quite what the owner thought is anyone's guess. Probably thought he was talking to Paul Nicholls.
Mr Bumble's been very quiet of late but he filled our television screens, quite literally, on Saturday afternoon when he handed over the ROA award for Best Racecourse to Doncaster, in the process reminding us all that the Incredible Hulk isn't necessarily a work of total fiction. His collar size must be as big as Carl's waist and maybe he's got that 70 stone bloke from East Anglia in his sights. A few more portions of cod and chips should do it. The lift at the ROA's offices must be huge.
Nigel perked up later in the day when he caught sight of the table for the Jumps Owners Championship which currently sees him in 33rd place, while in the Trainers table he 's now crept up to 6th. Over his alphabeti spaghetti which I made for his tea he was working out his related percentages and was grinning almost as inanely as Derek Thompson when he calculated that he could afford to go to the pub tonight.
I've made a note to ring Hugh at the Hollow Bottom to warn him.........

Mon 26th: the computer gremlins have not only paid us a visit - they've dropped anchor and resolutely appear to refuse to bugger off. Those numpties at Racing For Loose Change are probably behind my current keyboard paralysis, but I have friends in low places who seem worryingly keen to help keep me "on air", so with apologies for recent hiccups let's try and pick up the thread again.
The weekend went quite well with 2 winners, although to be honest with you I was expecting something more considering how many runners we sent out across the two days, although we pulled a few out because of the ground. Nigel went up to Aintree and must have been in optimistic mode as he even splashed out on a hotel as a comfort base for himself and Queen Vic. But of course his Welsh Chapel upbringing still weighs heavy on what remains of his conscience, so much so that whenever he books into a hotel with a lady he has to pretend that they're a married couple and hopes and prays that nobody recognises him as one of our National icons. His wheeze to remain incognito this time was to wear a shirt and tie that actually matched and then to sign the register as Mr & Mrs Twiston-Smith. Nobody asked for his autograph so he feels it must have worked and suitably pleased with both his disguise and Queen Vic's positive response to having money spent on her, he saddled Tramantano to win and marked it all down as a resounding success and something he'll try again. He can be quite creative if he puts his mind to it - as you'll have seen from some of his entries.
Carl, meanwhile, went to Chepstow and returned with a winner too in the shape of Jaunty Flight who battled on well for Tom Molloy in the novice chase. I've had a bit of luck with Carl. In fact I've had two bits - a sort of win double if you like. The first leg was the news that he's moving out next week as his house down in Guiting Power is ready, an exodus which obviously means that my workload at Grange Hill Farm will halve overnight. The second leg is the best bit, however, as I felt it only sensible to point out that he too should take on a housekeeper to clear away on a daily basis otherwise his conveyor belt of visitors would be confronting the most awful mess. In fact they'd very probably be confronting each other on occasions, there's that many of them. True to form the ageing Welsh Lothario hadn't thought through the implications of being brought down in his own home by loose runners, but he soon saw sense. So much so that he even volunteered payment for my additional services, so I'll soon have a foot in both camps and can report on events as they happen. It will be a bit like being a cross between a war correspondent and a sex therapist, but good taste will inevitably prevail so, as ever, there'll be nothing too salacious from Bronwen's blog.
Having got the Racing Post Trophy out of the way all we've now got to do is live through the extended hype and boredom of the Breeder's Cup and we can then settle down to a few months of proper racing with only the minor gnat-like irritation of the winter all weather programme to occasionally muddy the waters. To get in the mood I'm thinking of having a bash at the Tote's 10 to Follow competition - I can probably afford 2 lines at a tenner a throw now I'm on the Llewellyn payroll so I'll sit down after supper and start whittling down my long list and may even share my selections with you if you're lucky.
Meanwhile we've a couple of blank racing days coming up on the N H front so Nigel will probably give Carl a hand with his packing. They thought briefly of using a professional removal firm, but then decided that they could get everything in Gilbert's horse box and save themselves a few bob. Do you think they'll have checked whether we've got any runners that day? No, neither do I ............

Fri 23rd: -  We never made it to Fakenham today. Well, it is quite a long way and he is getting on a bit. Our only runner appears instead on the all-weather at Wolverhampton although I'd rather you didn't tell anyone. It's a bit embarassing having a runner on a dog track isn't it?

Mention of the Flat reminds me of the picture on the front page of the bible today. Peter Chappel-Hyam grins out at us all with a confidence booster to anyone who's backed him in '09's Most Chins competition that he's coming on nicely, with his top shirt button having long given up hope of a successful docking. There's a certain facial similarity with Nigel, don't you think? In fact the more I think about it the more it registers that you never see the two of them in the same room together, do you? Spooky. It must be something to do with the hyphen and very obviously people with double barrelled surnames wouldn't be allowed through the doors at Weightwatchers. P C-H doesn't look as though he could get through the door anyway.

His interview with Alastair Down provides further fuel to the rumours of there being a Twiston-Davies/Chappel-Hyam blood link, not least with the P C-H quote, "One of my problems is that I love horses but don't like people". Blimey! Cousins at the very least, I'd say, although our chubby leader looks almost anorexic by comparison. I'll ask Queen Vic to up his porridge portion in the mornings and he'll be Mr Blobby again in no time.

I see the computer fairies have paid us another visit and erased 10 days-worth of rubbish. Somebody must be paying them and it couldn't be Nigel. He believes in fairies but he certainly couldn't bring himself to pay them.

I'm looking forward to Aintree and Chepstow tomorrow. Proper racing with some of our bigger guns due out and a winner or two to boot I fancy. Bronwen's even thinking of getting her purse out.......

 

Tues 13th: - an interesting postscript arises to yesterday's observations about the Czech Republic's great race and for this I'm grateful to Alastair Down for his piece in Tuesday's bible. It would seem that 57 year old Josef Vana "appears to be missing a number of body parts and is apparently very short of ribs", this according to Telegraph hack, Marcus Armytage. Where can they have gone, I ask myself? Well, I have a sneaking suspicion that Nigel's got them as he's certainly not short of extra body parts. Au contraire, these days he carries so much condition that it's anyone's guess how many ribs he's got tucked away in there. He probably bought parts and ribs as a job lot on E-bay.

In a further, even more bizarre aside, Vana was once pronounced clinically dead for 15 minutes following a fall in 1996. Granted 15 minutes is quite a long time, but it was only once. Nigel's form book of near-death experiences in The Hollow Bottom runs to several pages and his ability to stay a hard driven length in front of The Grim Reaper is the stuff of local legend. Medical science watches on in awe.

We sent one runner to Huntingdon today, Bonny Zara, owned by one R Bevis, rumoured to be the stable's sartorial assistant, "Sparky". Neither, for various reasons, caught the eye although the horse was presumably the better turned out of the two. Tomorrow we're looking to pick up the winning thread again at Uttoxeter where the paddock is expected to be heaving with body parts...........

Mon 12th: - I got to thinking this morning, after reading that the Velka Pardubicka was won by a 57 year old, that the Naunton team are pretty weedy by comparison. Nigel's much younger than Josef Vana and should be capable of a more energetic and athletic lifestyle. Maybe I should sign him up for a course of sky diving or synchronised sinking - it could be the making of him - or on second thoughts possibly even the end. As for Carl he's just a slip of a boy who in relative terms is just out of nappies, but at 40 something he can't rely solely on his riding licence to keep supple in the saddle. Before he knows what's happened he'll be mounting with the aid of a stairlift so Ill be writing to Josef in the Czech Republic, wherever that is, for some tips to keep them both in prime condition. It's not too late, is it?

A quiet start to the week reflected another blank day on the Jumps front while Huntingdon tomorrow doesn't look as though it will involve us too much either. The lull before the storm with Cheltenham's opening fixture looming. Everywhere could do with a drop more rain, though.

A touch of absurdity was injected to the rather mundane proceedings when the news broke of Gordon Brown's intended Fire Sale of the Nation's "goodies", a list which apparently will include the Tote which has been the subject of endless political prevarication over recent years. Given that there's a national financial black hole of a conservatively estimated £90b and the Tote sale might raise £200m in the current market, half of which has been promised to Racing, this seems to me to be (hopefully) almost the last act of an increasingly desperate man. Maybe I could sign him up for the sky diving instead of Nigel. Strictly no parachute............

Sun 11th; - after today's results from the new Mecca of N.H. racing, Fos Llas, you'll be aware that I've kept my 100% record as a tipster intact. Two selections and two non-runners! Luckily for me I'm now settled in Naunton - if I'd delivered this sort of spooky performance in the Land Of My Fathers I'd probably have been burnt at the stake as a witch. You'll have to wait until later in the week to see if I can get the treble of "withdrawns" up.

Meanwhile, down in S.Wales our one remaining runner at Fos Llas duly did the business with Palmito adding to our tally at a tasty 8/1. Jane Lane's home-bred mare got off the mark at the 3rd time of asking which must have been doubly rewarding for her. Jane's colours were previously best known via Call It A Day who was one of the favourites for the 1999 National when trained by David Nicholson. Palmito's got a way to go before approaching those illustrious heights but it's a promising start.

While this was going on, several hundred miles away in the Czech Republic Big Nose Bailey, Nigel's sparring partner from just down the road, gave his own and Lucky Luk's passports an airing in the infamous Velka Pardubicka over 4 and 1/4 miles of agricultural terrain. The sporting adventure came to nowt, but Big Nose will be encouraging TFFN (the Fat Farmer from Naunton) to spread his wings in an easterly direction next year. Apparently the gin's very cheap out there so he may well have a taker.

On the boring Flat home front the talk now is of "bullet races" being staged in the future, these over distances less than 5 furlongs. Well, if there's one thing more boring than a race over 5 furlongs it's one over 4 furlongs so hopefully if they're serious they'll do it behind closed doors to an audience with sleep apnia. Much like the appearance of Carl's wallet in The Hollow Bottom it really will be a case of, "blink and you'll miss it".......

Sat 10th: - well, today's racing kept you on your toes,didn't it? The remote control was in danger of overheating as I flicked back and forth between 6 meetings. Actually, make that 4 because York and Ascot offered only the ailing Flat variety and nobody's much interested in that. Our day comprised a mixed bag - a handful of disappointments countered by picking up the main chase at Chepstow with Beat The Boys who bounced back to form with a vengeance after rather losing his way last year. The paddock camera gave us some joyful scenes as Paddy came back to unsaddle and there seemed to be an awful lot of kissing going on, but with the owners being the New Club Ladies why shouldn't there be? Even the trainer got on the receiving end of one or two and that doesn't happen too often these days. He must have thought that it was his birthday again.The rest of our Chepstow runners failed to trouble the judge and both Bradley Boy and Mr Prolific (believed to have been inspired by Carl's love life) forfeited any chance with some sloppy jumping, so it's back to the schooling ground with them.

My housekeeping budget emerged unscathed as Kilvergan Boy was pulled out at Bangor which is good news for my boys as I'll now be able to deliver their morning porridge this week. In fact if Riddleofthesands goes in at Fos Llas tomorrow they could get egg and bacon too. Yes, I know, I spoil them rotten, but manly charms have always been my weakness. As you can tell, I've led a very sheltered life.......

Fri 9th: - the female of the species and geography rarely go hand in glove, but even I know that Carlisle's quite a long way away - somewhere in the general direction of Scotland. So there was never any prospect that I would make the journey alongside the one runner that Nigel despatched north today. After his facile victory at Fontwell last weekend Nudge And Nurdle got the Carlisle gig for his pains and very predictably came 2nd! That's 50 something placed horses we've had so far this season and I'm beginning to think that some higher being has got it in for us. Perhaps Nigel should start going to chapel again. I like the thought of a man on his knees.

Tomorrow is when the season starts in earnest with meetings at Chepstow and Bangor and plenty of runners from Grange Hill Farm at both courses. Tom Molloy and young Sam go to Bangor while Paddy and David England prefer the South Wales scenery. I think I may splash out a little of my housekeeping money on Kilvergan Boy. What price he comes second?

I see that there's a rumour doing the rounds that a big name from the betting jungle is poised to become "betting industry co-ordinator" in the Racing For Loose Change circus, thereby threatening another unnecessary layer in a structure already top-heavy with self indulgent nonsense. Lord give me strength! No, better still just give me a winner.........

Thurs 8th: - not even a puddle at Worcester today. Bronwen, oh ye of little faith. Mind you, the way ours ran we could have done with the meeting being called off. Only Jackie Boy got in the shake up to provide another frustrating second, but I got the feeling again that he'd be better going the other way round. I think I'll be brave and impart this wisdom to the boss over breakfast tomorrow. On second thoughts maybe I'll sleep on it and see which way the Welsh wind is blowing first.

The Racing Post's headline today attempted to launch a story that the BHA has engineered another controversy by banning any remounting during a race. Against the backdrop of precisely NINE horses being remounted during the whole of 2008 it's going overboard to describe this as a controversy, although some jockeys seemed to disagree with the new rule. The subject is pretty much a non-event with horse welfare rendering it so. Obviously yet another slow news day! One person here who is certainly opposed to banning any remounting is Carl - but then only if it's applied to horses.

There was a more worrying item on page 10 of the paper in the Who Am I? slot, which most certainly wasn't for the faint-hearted. A close up profile shot, straight from the Crimewatch archives, showed a mystery trainer who, according to the Post, is both "shy" and a "maverick". Whoever it is he looks pretty unsavoury - not someone you'd want to bump into down a dark alley. Or even in The Hollow Bottom. I think I'll put the photo on the mantelpiece in winter to ensure that the dogs don't lie in front of the fire........

Weds 7th: - Towcester today and my initial thought was to flash my knickers at Gilbert again and scab a lift in the horse box. Then I saw the weather forecast and had a radical change of heart as the Northampton course in grim weather is about as alluring as a hike round Snowdonia in a monsoon. Still, we notched another winner today from our two runners, although it wasn't the one I fancied - which only underlines what a dodgy judge of horseflesh I am. I thought that Leamington Lad would give us a run for our money in the novice chase as long as he brushed up his jumping and I wasn't entirely wrong as he gave E/W backers their money back with a somewhat remote 3rd at 5/1. My old mum always maintained that you had to be completely deranged to have a bet in a 0-100 h'cap hurdle with 18 runners, but one of Carl's imports obviously hadn't spoken to her as Crouch End Flyer posted her second course win at the rewarding odds of 9/1. Sadly, I listened to mum and passed.

I've just rung mum up, though, to re-assure her that a career as a tipster awaits her as this is a vocation that's obviously open to even more creative licence than running an estate agency. I mean to say, if Richard Dunwoody can purport to be a source of winners, which the trainer's website would suggest, then there must be hope for anyone. What does he know about racing? He's never here. He's either poncing around in his ballroom gear, doing endless laps of Newmarket, is half way up a mountain or pulling a sledge to some Pole or other. In short, anywhere bar a race course so where he finds the time to pick up any tips is beyond me. Still, if Tommo can get the occasional half-wit to subscribe to his daily tips then anything's possible. You don' t hink they just make them up, do you?

Worcester tomorrow. Wonder if it's under water yet?........

Tues 6th: - the trainer was in unusually ebullient form this morning. A chuckle and a slap on my re-girdled backside as I served him eggy soldiers for breakfast was indicative of a mood drawn from new found wealth. He was 10p ahead in his game of crib with Carl when I went to bed last night and he must have kept his nose in front. He likes nothing better than taking money from his Welsh assistant trainer, an eventuality he stated as being "as likely as getting a race after the winner forgets to weigh in".Twiston-Davies vs Llewellyn, it's hardly Casino Royale, is it?

The John Gosden piece in owner & Breeder was either illuminating or frightening, depending on the frame of mind of the reader. He hit more than a few notes with me, but much more to the point, will Racing's hierarchy be moved to take any of his points on board? In no particular order these included reducing the fixture list in line with reductions in the Levy, berating racing's leadership for having " too many people who do not understand racing",and re-locating the BHA offices out of London to a less profligate site - somewhere like Wetherbys in Wellingborough. Warming to his theme of racing currently being seen as "a semi-private club irrelevant to modern society" he simply cannot get his head around the fact that the horse, which is pretty central to the show, gets completely forgotten in marketing terms. In terms of prize money he already puts a line through 1 meeting in 4 simply because the rewards are so paltry, but he saves his biggest salvo for the "endless committees" who achieve little other than the formulation of yet another quango or sub-group. Do you think he's a fan of Racing For Loose Change, perchance?

It's an interview that certainly pulls no punches and adequately summarises the problems that racing has to confront. The comfort factor, if there is one, is that his views all relate to the Flat. Jump racing, in Gosden's view, is pretty healthy compared to Flat's "parlous state".Maybe he'll be taking out a N H licence then? Don't think so. Not enough money in it!..........

Mon 5th: - another winner for the yard while I was away, this courtesy of Nudge And Nurdle at Fontwell, so stable sponsor, Chris Coley, wore a broad smile as he heads up the Yes No Wait Sorries syndicate who own the horse. Nudge wasn't exactly winning out of turn as he'd become disappointing but had tumbled down the ratings as a result and if you followed the stable devoutly you'd have got the Exacta too as Kirby's Vic ran well to be second.

The weekend's highlight was indisputably Sea The Stars, even if it was only in a flat race in France. Actually the Arc is one of the few contests outside of N H that gets my Celtic pulse out of first gear so I was fairly miffed that I was travelling back to Naunton when the race was run and didn't see it first hand. However, John Hunt, one of the better commentators, left his listeners in no doubt as to the manner of the victory and the praise that settled around the horse's ears once he'd passed the post was well merited. Clearly he's the best we've seen for some while, but the very fact that imminent retirement to stud beckons underlines one of Flat racing's major problems. For if a horse picks up a clutch of Grade 1's it's unlikely to stay in training beyond the age of 3. Put very succinctly, blink and you're likely to miss it, which is the polar opposite to many of Jumping's stars. Is it any wonder then, that the paying public prefers the winter game?

I settled down with the latest copy of Owner & Breeder last night and read some sense for a change, this emanating from the lips of leading Flat trainer, John Gosden. But as I've got a pile of ironing to tackle now and Nigel's run out of pants I'll leave Gosden's views on Racing's ills until tomorrow........

Fri 2nd: - When I surfaced this morning it was to find that Nigel, after a few gins in The Hollow Bottom last night, had come home in juvenile mode and hidden my girdle. Hilarious! Added to this the washing machine's broken and somebody's walked off with the hoover so bugger it, I'm off to Dorset for the weekend. Back Monday...........

Thurs Oct 1st: - The start of a new month and the opportunity to celebrate a couple of anniversaries. You can choose between 60 years of Chinese oppression as introduced by Chairman Mao or the 5 year warning off just completed by the flambuoyantly wayward Graham Bradley. I think we can discard Mao in favour of one of racing's more colourful characters of recent times who, now heading for his 50th year, is free to pick up the threads of a once shining racing career. Whatever the rights or wrongs of Bradley's misdemeanours, and he was certainly a bit of a scallywag, the subsequent sentence of 5 years in racing exile was undoubtedly harsh, certainly in comparison to other recent disciplinary verdicts.

I remember him primarily for his style in the saddle. Famous, or infamous, depending on one's point of view, for his exaggerated hold up tactics (remember Robin Goodfellow and Kildimo?)he was still one of the supreme riding artists of recent generations. In my view he was right up there in the same bracket as the likes of David Mould, John Francome and arguably the most stylish of them all, Johnny Haine, and it was a pity that some of his off-course associations ultimately counted so punitively against him. A bit of a lad he most certainly was, as evidenced by one of the more interesting, readable and well-titled autobiographies of recent years, The Wayward Lad, and having served his time it's good to finally see him back in the ring.

Today's Racing Post would seem to indicate that an 8-race card is a possibility for Cheltenham's Festival meeting in years to come. Speaking as someone who's genuinely yet to find anybody who thinks that the main meeting of the year benefits by being 4 days instead of 3, the prospect of what once was an 18 race Festival becoming 32, by adding "fodder" contests, is not one to contemplate with relish. Commercial greed needs to be reined in by Edward Gillespie and his merry men.

The final thought for the day is, in fact, a quote reportedly from none other than our own revered licence holder. In Wit & Wisdom in the daily bible it is claimed that he once delivered the following epistle about trainer/jockey pre-race discussions with Carl. "In the paddock we might talk about how pretty the girl next door is, but that's about it, because if I try to give him instructions he'll ask me how many winners I rode". Personally I can't believe he said that as I've never heard him deliver a sentence even half that long. Anyway, it doesn't contain an expletive.........

Weds 30th: - It's what I believe is referred to in the media as a slow news week - no N.H. racing until the weekend - I'm on a mission to weed out some ancillary issues for your edification. Nigel's underwear wardrobe has probably received sufficient airing, at least in print terms so we'll revert back, instead, to that miserable old git, Tony Morris, who could very well pass for me in drag. Describing himself as being, "out of touch with reality", but only in the unlikely context that Racing For Loose Change's recommendations might conceivably be the reality, he epitomises the old school of racegoers who are tolerably happy with the state of their sport. Morris wants for little more than a day watching top quality racing in convivial company with acceptable opportunities to be fed and watered along the way. Not for him the absurdities of manufactured marketing nonsense like the Shergar Cup or rubbing shoulders with a mob of drunks who've come along primarily for the post-racing pop concert. He just wants to see the horses, pure and simple. So do I and so do thousands of other people, particularly on the Jumps front. What, Rod Street and Co, is wrong with that?

The problem was neatly encapsulated by Alistair Down in his Racing Post column yesterday. In a nutshell his premise was that there's nothing remotely wrong with N H racing - on the contrary it's never been more popular. The problem is the general appathy to the Flat product. Down's arguement is broadly valid and brings into sharp focus what's really wrong with racing in general, namely that the slice of the product that's healthy and with a large following is, to all intents and purposes, subsidising the bit that isn't and doesn't. Distribution of prize money between the two codes is questionable to say the least while a quick skim through the editorial content of Owner & Breeder reveals the wholly disproportionate slant that Racing's establishment and endless committees place on the ailing summer product.

So Mr Street, we have some common ground in that doing nothing is not an option. Implement change by all means and start by cutting racing's financial cake to better reflect the relative popularity of the winter and summer codes. In this way Nigel should also be able to afford some new pants as a welcome by-product. There's lovely.........

Tues 29th: - for somebody with no visual creases on the outside(well there's loads actually, but none where they should be) Nigel's quite fastidious about his under garments and likes to have a razor sharp crease in his long johns. So while I was wielding the iron this afternoon attending to his lordship's bidding I watched some of the races from Sedgefield and pinpointed a future star. Gordon Elliott's making something of a name for himself with his raiders from Ireland (a strike rate better than 30%), but it was his 7lb claiming apprentice, Keith Donoghue, who, not for the first time, caught my gaze. Still only 16 but looking only half that, he looks destined for a place at the jockey's top table and it's not total speculation to envisage a few tasty finishes between him and our own Sam Twiston-Davies over the years ahead. Bronwen's got an eye for teenage talent - you read it here first!

After the racing finished I caught up with the latest issue of Owner & Breeder which is generally good for a laugh. This month's dose of hilarity was presented by Rod Street, Project Director of Racing For Loose Change, who spent several pages attempting to justify the lunatic blueprint recently presented, not least the appointment of Harrison Fraser, who must still be pinching themselves at the level of payola for their load of old toot headed up by the infamous Brian and Ben. More to the point and significantly more accurate in its analysis was Tony Morris's appraisal of the Loose Change "initiative" in the same issue. Words like "trash" and " an exercise in futility" leave nobody in any doubt where he's coming from. Say what you think, Tony! I'm with you all the way.....

Mon 28th: - a quiet start to the week and before getting the washing done I wandered down to the gallops. With 100+ horses to exercise in 4 lots it was tempting just to drop anchor and take advantage of the current spell of weather. Naunton during a September Indian summer takes a bit of beating.

The trainer must have done the Sedgefield entries with a gin bottle close at hand as runners for us at the Co. Durham track are about as plentiful as sincerities from the mouth of Peter Mandelson. Predictably our few entries were duly cancelled - it's only entry fees and the owners can afford them. So we're looking at a blank week runner-wise with the next jumps fixtures not scheduled until the weekend.

Nigel's not short of an insult, be it handing them out or taking them in, but Mark Winstanley really went for the jugular in yesterday's Racing Post when he described the trainer as an Englishman. No greater insult to a taffy and I wouldn't want to be in Winstanley's shoes the next time their paths cross!...........

Sun 27th: - Nigel got home safe and sound after the Cathy Bates experience in deepest Lincolnshire. Fearing the psychotic landlady might skewer him in the small hours he wedged a chair behind the door and made Queen Vic sit up all night on sentry duty. But it was all worthwhile as he made it home with a winner after professional runner-up, Thai Vango, at last got his head in front. Nudge And Nurdle nearly made it a double but had to give best to Max Bygraves, one of Big Nose's from just down the road, so the two trainers will have undoubtedly shared some refreshment before heading back to Gloucestershire.

This week's going to be another quiet one on the racing front. There's only Sedgefield scheduled for Tuesday and I can't imagine we'll have runners there so I won't be creeping into Gilbert's cab again no matter how much he implores me.

The season will start to get into full swing fixture-wise shortly and to underline this we're due to get stable star, Imperial Commander and a couple of the Jump For Fun horses back from their Irish summer holidays in the next couple of days. The Commander is reportedly returning in good order and looking for a return to racecourse duties in November, but it would be good to see some rain again.I can't recall it raining since Nigel last got his wallet out in The Hollow Bottom and that was so long ago it's departed the memory bank........

Sat 26th: - I fancied a change of scenery today so I gave Gilbert, the horsebox driver, one of my "this could be your lucky day" smiles and he smuggled me on the lorry heading for Market Rasen. I'd never been to Lincolnshire before and,much like the journey to Fakenham, it seemed to take forever. Once you turn off the A1 it's like driving into a time warp and some of the locals, when we eventually got there, had eyes that were worryingly close together. Some of them even had 3 eyes. Give me Wales any time.

It was all a bit of a disappointment really as we went with high hopes that our 4 runners would generate a winner to add to the tally, but had nothing to show for it at the close of play. Cootehill lost all chance when he was badly baulked but Razor Royale, not for the first time, found little in the closing stages. So to perk him up on the way home I hitched my skirts and gave Gilbert an eyeful. He could barely keep his eyes on the road.

We're running a few more there tomorrow so the trainer took a chance with a local landlady and booked some accommodation. We may never see him again!. Still, he's got Queen Vic there to hold his hand and read him a story so he'll be a brave boy and may even sleep without the light on.........

Fri Sept 25th: - one thing you'd have to give Nigel credit for is an ability to treat the two imposters just the same. Which is just as well after the Perth epidemic of seconditus. There was less door banging than anticipated when he finally made it home and even the cat was encouraged to come down from the eaves for an unexpected saucer of milk rather than the originally anticipated boot up the arse. Seven 2nds at Perth - some sort of record but nobody died!

Today's fare at Worcester was erring on the mundane. We travelled with no huge expectations from our 3 runners and so it proved with a well beaten 4th for Sweet As Pye being our best placing. Tomorrow at Market rasen promises better.

Carl amused himself in the evening by travelling to the BBC studios in London to either barrack or support Richard Dunwoody in Strictly Come Dancing. He couldn't make up his mind which before leaving. In the event he opted for token support though was probably a mite disappointed that Dunwoody managed a clear round with no falls. Rumour has it that Nigel is contemplating having a bash in the next series. In skin tight trolleys and a billowing satin shirt slit to the waist his rumba is rumoured to be a thing of beauty......

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Bronwen - in typical housekeeper pose.