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.
and the small matter of some very good horses in their own right.
Best price is 1/7 on, still makes my stomach turn somersaults though. An unbeaten record is always a worry in racing; each race becoming not so much, will he win? rather, what if he loses?
On the possibility of the mighty Frankel being found out over the 2 extra furlongs, judges will say, it’s highly unlikely and, on all known form, it is. My own observation is that he’s never looked like stopping over the mile, so fingers crossed.
I wanted a horse more than anything in the whole world when I was a girl, life dictated that instead I should have a roaring allergy to the real thing, so the nearest I got was when the fair came to town.