The ‘big horses’ as I called them as a child, were my absolute favourite way back when.
My heart still skips a beat when I see a proper carousel.
I went into a bookies for the first time in years today, to look at the card for the Derby. I wanted to check for stamina in the winner’s damsire, but the Racing Post was firmly weighted down under the sharp elbows of a serious old gentleman who was holding forth around one of those plasticky tables they have in those joints, so I left without the information I wanted.
I am not so fond of the Derby that I am desperate to back a 13/8 winner, but I was certainly glad for the owner (Oppenheimer), trainer (Gosden) and jockey (Dettori) – particularly the former two who had decided it was worth supplementing the colt for the race.
I did not venture back into the bookies. I am quite glad I didn’t too. I would have backed the winner with my only fiver, and then tomorrow I would have had to traipse back to collect the small winnings. I mean, who needs that kind of hassle on a Sunday. Now, if I had backed the 50/1 Oaks winner on Friday, it would have been a different proposition altogether.