There’s a maiden race named after this stallion today – 3.05 at the Curragh racecourse. It’s a great sounding race the Big Bad Bob Maiden over 6 furlongs. It’s a Big Bad Field too with 27 horses aged 3 and over with not a win between them (it being a maiden). Only a mad woman would be picking a horse to win this race, and I have that on Good Authority…
Thank god for the flat turf season – I was nearly at my wits end with all this awful weather and jumping malarkey.
Perhaps we can turn the corner into spring now with some proper racing \o/
I am hardly entitled to an opinion after yesterday’s debacle, but racing is all about climbing back in the saddle and going again, even with an aching butt and bruised body.
Actually I don’t even have an opinion *sighs of relief all round* but I have narrowed it down to three through the thorough application of and filtration by various patent pending systems:
Anna Salai – the same first name as my sister, miling pedigree, supplemented by powerful stable therefore cannot be ignored.
Cnocandancer – eye-catching debut maiden winner a few weeks ago, noted here. It always dangerous to believe the evidence of one’s own eyes (especially when the dog chewed up your glasses months ago), but this filly could be “anything” as they like to say. Additionally qualifies under the “Diva” system, being out of Dancing Diva.
Lolly for Dolly – selected via the “13” system, the “Rhyming Name” system and Course and Distance systems, albeit on separate occasions.
Of course if Mick Channon’s Music Show hacks up I won’t mind at all, but I will ask him why he has been moonlighting in this band in a pair of dungarees, flat cap and playing a squeeze box.
This is not about the Rolling Stones. My other favourite car song when I was little began:
I am just a poor boy
Though my story’s seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles such are promises
All lies and jests
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
That’s pretty much apropos of nothing but there you go.
I bought a newspaper on Thursday. I put it down and forgot it until Friday. Then I couldn’t find it when I thought I ought to look at it, given it cost me a whole pound. Then I did manage to locate it and of course the world had moved on and everyone is going on about the poxy euro bailout package – oh how the Germans must miss their Pfennigs and Marks.
Two day-old papers have their uses though, you can pick through at your leisure without the urgency of the “must read today” copy and savour the type of stories that might catch your eye if you are lining the cat litter tray with newspaper. I used to line a lot of cat litter trays in days gone by.
This kind of thing:- the Austrians have employed Druids to put up monoliths at motorway blackspots to “counter negative energy”. The Druid Team, Monolith Division, where called in when no explanation could be found for a spate of accidents on a road to Salzburg. Arch Druid Ilma Tessmann blamed radiation from a mobile phone mast. It has been so successful that it is being copied across the country and so many stones are needed they have been forced to use magnets and plastic (giant?) slates as an alternative to stones.
There are a few places I can think of that could do with a standing stone or two to sort out didgy energy, Vauxhall being one. I’ve not been to the Curragh racecourse in Ireland, but it certainly looks like the kind of flat plain that could host a monolith. Whether such a thing would effect the result in today’s 2000 Guineas, who knows?
I am not too interested, primarily because of the swarm of Ballydoyle runners involved meaning that one will probably win. Of them I would side with Fencing Master, but I suppose the market leader Steinbeck has the more realistic chance. Xtension should run a solid race without winning? Canford Cliffs is a nice spot near Bournemouth, but I don’t think he is a Guineas winner. I’d say they’ll (Hannons Snr & Jnr) drop him back to 7f after this and rather like my blog theme experiment stick with what works.
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev’ry glove that layed him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
“I am leaving, I am leaving”
But the fighter still remains
The Boxer, Simon & Garfunkel