It's The Festival
The drone of the helicopters started at around the same time as The Morning Line on Channel 4 - 8.30am. Yesterday was the first day of The Festival - Cheltenham, that is. All morning helicopters choppered over Aston Peverell carrying monied owners, jockeys and trainers to THE BIGGEST EVENT IN THE RACING CALENDAR. I predict the same for today. Much excitement in the Philpott establishment - well Clive is excited. This year for the first time The Festival is to run for four days. Clive has taken the whole week off to attend. 'That's more than you took when the boys were born,' Ginny points out.
Clive is glued to the telly. He has been glued since around 6am when coverage of the Cheltenham Festival started with 'Turf Accounts'. That was followed by Cheltenham Festival Highlights. Not totally necessary viewing given that Clive videoed the whole of yesterday afternoon's coverage to watch in the evening. He played the Champion Hurdle over and over again, all the while muttering about the horse being held back, Steward's Enquiry, waste of a bet . . .
Clive was not happy when he came home yesterday. Actually, he was gutted. He started the day full of hope and excitement. He ended the day full of loathing for the hapless jockey riding Harchibald. In a tense climax to the Champion Hurdle, Harchibald's jockey, who could have won the race sat back and enjoyed the view or, in the words of The Daily Telegraph sports reporter 'downed tools faster than a Parisien striker.' Clive read this snippet out over the breakfast table. He hasn't told Ginny the whole truth about how much he lost. He admits to 20 pounds. Privately I think it's nearer 50.
Ginny hates Cheltenham week. The Festival turns her life upside down. 'I didn't sign up for running a B & B when I walked down the aisle you know!' Ginny spent a frenzied day sorting out clean sheets, stocking up on bacon, eggs, sausages and black pudding, and spraying Toilet Duck around every loo in the house. For, tonight we have the first of Clive's Cheltenham visitors. Someone new to play with!
After watching the morning pundits, Clive ventured out to buy The Racing Post. He perused the form for what has to be the thousandth time (and that's just since I've been living here), then filled his Thermos with coffee, made himself a cheese and pickle (branston of course) sandwich and was off. I pray he has a winner. I didn't like Ginny's barbed comments at Clive's failure to pick even one winner yesterday. If he won she might cheer up a bit. We'll see.
Clive is glued to the telly. He has been glued since around 6am when coverage of the Cheltenham Festival started with 'Turf Accounts'. That was followed by Cheltenham Festival Highlights. Not totally necessary viewing given that Clive videoed the whole of yesterday afternoon's coverage to watch in the evening. He played the Champion Hurdle over and over again, all the while muttering about the horse being held back, Steward's Enquiry, waste of a bet . . .
Clive was not happy when he came home yesterday. Actually, he was gutted. He started the day full of hope and excitement. He ended the day full of loathing for the hapless jockey riding Harchibald. In a tense climax to the Champion Hurdle, Harchibald's jockey, who could have won the race sat back and enjoyed the view or, in the words of The Daily Telegraph sports reporter 'downed tools faster than a Parisien striker.' Clive read this snippet out over the breakfast table. He hasn't told Ginny the whole truth about how much he lost. He admits to 20 pounds. Privately I think it's nearer 50.
Ginny hates Cheltenham week. The Festival turns her life upside down. 'I didn't sign up for running a B & B when I walked down the aisle you know!' Ginny spent a frenzied day sorting out clean sheets, stocking up on bacon, eggs, sausages and black pudding, and spraying Toilet Duck around every loo in the house. For, tonight we have the first of Clive's Cheltenham visitors. Someone new to play with!
After watching the morning pundits, Clive ventured out to buy The Racing Post. He perused the form for what has to be the thousandth time (and that's just since I've been living here), then filled his Thermos with coffee, made himself a cheese and pickle (branston of course) sandwich and was off. I pray he has a winner. I didn't like Ginny's barbed comments at Clive's failure to pick even one winner yesterday. If he won she might cheer up a bit. We'll see.
posted by Arrow at 9:50 AM
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