OR, NEVER BEEN TO RACES ON A MONDAY!
My son had sent me a cryptic message on my phone asking if I fancied going to the races the following day. Well yah! Always up for a little trot out and I said as much but it was still a mystery, especially where it was; in Fakenham? I knew not where it was either so I just arranged to meet the following morning at Kings Cross.
Of course I couldn’t sleep and when I did awoke at 4.30 not to doze again after.
It had started so sunny, but chilly and the forecast was for gloom and a little rain so I tried my best to look smart casual without freezing to death; ended up with an actual jockey crossed with a rather frumpy queen when I put on my previously jaunty neck kerchief and used it as a headscarf, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers. We met without incident and boarded our train to Lyme Regis. There in our seats the huge fatigue set in on a very tedious, very flat train ride to Norfolk. Boston startled me by snoring suddenly and even had a snort in a very horsey way at some point. We were off!
After the long seeming train the cab ride that was supposed to be twenty minutes the very over chatty cab driver told us otherwise, threatening even an hour if there was traffic. This grim prognosis was incorrect but it didn’t stop her from yacking all the way about grindingly dull stuff. We survived but it was touch and go!
FAKENHAM RACECOURSES.
It was lovely to finally arrive at this dinky but very well organised course. Boston had told me on the train that he had bought two shares in a horse named Jamada. This is equivalent to a tooth, I had joked feebly on the train , but I was impressed, especially when I heard his perks. He was allowed in the posh bit with free drinks and food whereas I had to stay with the peasants as he rather unkindly told me. He tried to get me in but I had to know my station and stay with the hoy polloi. He would have to nip off at certain times to see the trainer etc but otherwise would rough it with me.
The grounds were lovely, petite but well manicured and managed. After the first confusion I found my tote and the beer tent so felt very good chatting and trying to stay warm. I was going to stick to my two quid each way system despite it being clearly ludicrous seeing as over half the races only had four nags in apiece. The atmosphere was splendid and the horses all seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves in that more gentle place.
I have just a handful of photos for indeed I had enough trouble getting my change out for my bets let alone try and get my freezing hands to manipulate the camera. However the most important thing other than Jamada winning convincingly, was my getting into the much coveted winners enclosure and meeting the very lovely team and the very smug horse with his ears pricked up the size of a donkey he was that pleased with himself.
The journey back was long and hard so despite our big grins we were forced to get the same cab back which crushed us and just made it in time for the train that would get us in after dark. We were shattered and with no buffet service on the train we had no source of sustenance to wile away the hours. This old bird was bone weary but very happy on arriving at her stable and had only lost a small handful of change but had happily cheered on the various old nags until it was very beautiful Jamadas time to shine brightly through.
BRAVO TEAM JAMADA.
OVER AND OUT FROM A HAPPY OLD BIRD AND FROM BOSTON AND JAMADA!
Old Bird Travels Solo! 