wafted across towards the paddock on the Rowley Mile yesterday. If I am to be found singing along to a song outside one of the food and drink outlets when I am racing it means one of two things. I am not in front; I like the song. And I suppose, it could mean both.
Anyway, count yourselves lucky its not David Guetta (it is Friday night after all).
Hang on, it is Friday night. Well then, David Guetta it is – I am not that ancient, yet. The other will have to wait.