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This has been thoroughly vetted for swearing before I copied and pasted it. 
You know what he's like.
This is our 7th year here, and as usual, I start with the latest news on my car.
For new readers, my car has a fair few ‘niggling’ things wrong with it, and the list gets longer each year.
For those with automatic gearboxes, I’ll repeat this one as it may come in handy for you, you never know.
Near to your gear selector panel is a small, normally plastic, screw. If you ever find yourself in a position of being unable to select a gear (which apparently happens after crashes) and the breakdown truck driver needs neutral to get it off a roundabout or somewhere similar. You need to remove the screw and push the end of a pencil or similarly shaped object down the hole. You can then select neutral gear, remove the pencil, and move the vehicle.
This happened to me on a petrol pump a few years ago. If I had known about that screw I wouldn’t have blocked the pump for over an hour waiting for the breakdown truck to arrive.
It still happens now and again, so if the pencil trick works, why pay a fortune to a mechanic to sort it out?
The door locks are still temperamental. Sometimes the car will open, sometimes it won’t, so I just leave it unlocked.
Due to yobs smashing the boot lock a few years ago back in Barking, I think there are wires that have gone up into the bodywork space that are touching the metal. I got paid £192 for the equivalent cost of parts by the insurance company. as Jaguar don’t stock the parts any more. That doesn’t help my boot problem.
If I leave the car with the battery connected it will lose all its charge in a week, so after every journey I take off the battery leads until I use the car again. For those that read last years tale, I can still state it was no fun when a lead came off at 92 mph in the outside lane of the M6, and the engine cut out, as did the power assisted steering and brakes. Such fun!!
New problems.
If I sit at traffic lights, my oil pressure drops, and the warning light comes on, but the sump has plenty of oil in it.
I have no idea why, but the nearside back door won’t open. The child lock was put on, and it hasn’t budged since. Tried removing the fuse for it, but it still won’t open.
The brake light switch needed replacing. I contacted the absent forumite orioles as he used to refurbish old Jaguars, hoping he may have had a spare sitting on a shelf somewhere, but no such luck. He gave me a website address, and I left the enquiry on that. One day later an email said that a firm had one, but I needed a harness with it (don’t ask me, I don’t know), and the switch and harness was £120. Then I’d have to pay for somebody to fit it.
I contacted the local (local…lol… 33 miles way) Jaguar breakers in Swaffham. By sheer luck somebody had ordered a new one for the same model, but had not collected it, I got it for £47 inc V.A.T. I asked the man in the breakers about a harness. He said any good mechanic could sort that out.
My local man, Big Dan, did it, and only charged me £30 for making a harness and fitting that and the switch. Total cost was £77, instead of £120 for just the parts online.
And after sitting on the drive for so long, it was invaded by ants, but I got rid of those in the summer of last year. Now the cloth headlining in the car has come unstuck. It was okay one day, then all came loose the next. Youtube solutions include spraying it with adhesive, and putting it back. But this entails removing all the dried glue from the cloth, which is messy, as the foam layer it sits on has come away from the holding board in the roof. Another solution was to pin it back with upholstery pins, but at a cost of up to $30 for 10 pins I left that alone. I depended on good old fashioned drawing pins, which held it in place for a few hundred miles. But when speeding (as you do) with the windows open the wind got hold of it and the corner has come down again in the back, but as it doesn’t obscure my rear view in the mirror, I’ve left it like it.
And so the car saga ends for another year. It’s 10/11 each of two that the car makes it to next March.
You know what he's like.
This is our 7th year here, and as usual, I start with the latest news on my car.
For new readers, my car has a fair few ‘niggling’ things wrong with it, and the list gets longer each year.
For those with automatic gearboxes, I’ll repeat this one as it may come in handy for you, you never know.
Near to your gear selector panel is a small, normally plastic, screw. If you ever find yourself in a position of being unable to select a gear (which apparently happens after crashes) and the breakdown truck driver needs neutral to get it off a roundabout or somewhere similar. You need to remove the screw and push the end of a pencil or similarly shaped object down the hole. You can then select neutral gear, remove the pencil, and move the vehicle.
This happened to me on a petrol pump a few years ago. If I had known about that screw I wouldn’t have blocked the pump for over an hour waiting for the breakdown truck to arrive.
It still happens now and again, so if the pencil trick works, why pay a fortune to a mechanic to sort it out?
The door locks are still temperamental. Sometimes the car will open, sometimes it won’t, so I just leave it unlocked.
Due to yobs smashing the boot lock a few years ago back in Barking, I think there are wires that have gone up into the bodywork space that are touching the metal. I got paid £192 for the equivalent cost of parts by the insurance company. as Jaguar don’t stock the parts any more. That doesn’t help my boot problem.
If I leave the car with the battery connected it will lose all its charge in a week, so after every journey I take off the battery leads until I use the car again. For those that read last years tale, I can still state it was no fun when a lead came off at 92 mph in the outside lane of the M6, and the engine cut out, as did the power assisted steering and brakes. Such fun!!
New problems.
If I sit at traffic lights, my oil pressure drops, and the warning light comes on, but the sump has plenty of oil in it.
I have no idea why, but the nearside back door won’t open. The child lock was put on, and it hasn’t budged since. Tried removing the fuse for it, but it still won’t open.
The brake light switch needed replacing. I contacted the absent forumite orioles as he used to refurbish old Jaguars, hoping he may have had a spare sitting on a shelf somewhere, but no such luck. He gave me a website address, and I left the enquiry on that. One day later an email said that a firm had one, but I needed a harness with it (don’t ask me, I don’t know), and the switch and harness was £120. Then I’d have to pay for somebody to fit it.
I contacted the local (local…lol… 33 miles way) Jaguar breakers in Swaffham. By sheer luck somebody had ordered a new one for the same model, but had not collected it, I got it for £47 inc V.A.T. I asked the man in the breakers about a harness. He said any good mechanic could sort that out.
My local man, Big Dan, did it, and only charged me £30 for making a harness and fitting that and the switch. Total cost was £77, instead of £120 for just the parts online.
And after sitting on the drive for so long, it was invaded by ants, but I got rid of those in the summer of last year. Now the cloth headlining in the car has come unstuck. It was okay one day, then all came loose the next. Youtube solutions include spraying it with adhesive, and putting it back. But this entails removing all the dried glue from the cloth, which is messy, as the foam layer it sits on has come away from the holding board in the roof. Another solution was to pin it back with upholstery pins, but at a cost of up to $30 for 10 pins I left that alone. I depended on good old fashioned drawing pins, which held it in place for a few hundred miles. But when speeding (as you do) with the windows open the wind got hold of it and the corner has come down again in the back, but as it doesn’t obscure my rear view in the mirror, I’ve left it like it.
And so the car saga ends for another year. It’s 10/11 each of two that the car makes it to next March.
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My e -mails are going to have more traffic than the M25 on a bank holiday Monday 
thought you would have traded in that bloody Jag by now
I was wondering where this was, presume that he's been banned yet again?
crags, would you like to slag it off as boring now, or are you going to read it all first, like you normally do. 
I was supposed to meet Josey and Julie (a friend of Josey’s wife) at 4-00 p.m. at the hotel. He had decided not to take the joint to Cheltenham until Tuesday morning, whereas last year we went down with it on Monday afternoon. Arthur and Katie turn up when Arthur feels like it, this has been as late as 7-00 p.m. Wee Richie (Katie’s brother) and Lizzie (Josey’s eldest daughter) were to arrive under their own steam later.
As has been posted before, I don’t use a Sat-Nav device. I prefer the old method of looking at a map, memorising a route, and getting there with no problems.
A47, A14, M6 come off at junction 2 (Coventry) and get on the A46 to Warwick. Watch for sign to Warwick town centre, turn off the A46 on to the A425, take the first on the left and the hotel is on the right.
Easy-peasy lemon squeezy.
The only guesswork bit was in some road works on the A46, a large roundabout where the lane markings didn’t correspond with the signposts. There was no signs at all for the A46, but a lot of signs for the A45 to Birmingham, plus the blue motorway signs in brackets, but strangely, not one for the M40, which is just on the far side of Warwick.
If Christopher Columbus can find America in 1492, I can find Warwick in 2014.
It was 3-45 p.m. and the Sun was slowly heading west, and I wanted a rough heading of south west, so I headed for the road that led towards the Sun. A good (or lucky) choice, it was the continuation of the A46.
I arrived at 3-55 p.m. but there was no sign of Josey’s car. I went in and checked in (the bill had been paid) and got my room key. I also confirmed that the other three rooms would-be vacated on Friday morning, but I would be back on Friday night, and not leave until Saturday morning. I was told this was okay, and that I could stay in the same room on Friday.
I was supposed to meet Josey and Julie (a friend of Josey’s wife) at 4-00 p.m. at the hotel. He had decided not to take the joint to Cheltenham until Tuesday morning, whereas last year we went down with it on Monday afternoon. Arthur and Katie turn up when Arthur feels like it, this has been as late as 7-00 p.m. Wee Richie (Katie’s brother) and Lizzie (Josey’s eldest daughter) were to arrive under their own steam later.
As has been posted before, I don’t use a Sat-Nav device. I prefer the old method of looking at a map, memorising a route, and getting there with no problems.
A47, A14, M6 come off at junction 2 (Coventry) and get on the A46 to Warwick. Watch for sign to Warwick town centre, turn off the A46 on to the A425, take the first on the left and the hotel is on the right.
Easy-peasy lemon squeezy.
The only guesswork bit was in some road works on the A46, a large roundabout where the lane markings didn’t correspond with the signposts. There was no signs at all for the A46, but a lot of signs for the A45 to Birmingham, plus the blue motorway signs in brackets, but strangely, not one for the M40, which is just on the far side of Warwick.
If Christopher Columbus can find America in 1492, I can find Warwick in 2014.
It was 3-45 p.m. and the Sun was slowly heading west, and I wanted a rough heading of south west, so I headed for the road that led towards the Sun. A good (or lucky) choice, it was the continuation of the A46.
I arrived at 3-55 p.m. but there was no sign of Josey’s car. I went in and checked in (the bill had been paid) and got my room key. I also confirmed that the other three rooms would-be vacated on Friday morning, but I would be back on Friday night, and not leave until Saturday morning. I was told this was okay, and that I could stay in the same room on Friday.
A SOMEWHAT STUPID DECISION BY PREMIER INN
Unlike 2012, when parking was free, this year it was to cost £1 a day. The receptionist (good looking blonde) told me that cars for the extremely large office block on the other side of the road were using the Premier Inn car park during the day, so they decided to have machines installed that take cash or cards, and issue tickets. But if Premier Inn customers couldn’t find room to park, and went in search of space over the road, with no valid badges, they got clamped.
This obviously improved the finances of the Premier Inn, but didn’t solve any parking problems. The car park filled up with non-residents every day.
Not bothering to read instructions
I put a £1 coin in the slot, and it fell out in the return tray. I tried again, but this time the coin wouldn’t go in as the slot had closed.
I then decided to read the instructions:
1. Enter your car registration number.
2. Confirm number is correct.
3. Press enter button.
4. Put in correct cash.
5. Press green button for ticket.
Good start, the £1 coin wouldn’t go in.
I repeated the above steps, twice. The coin slot remained closed.
Who remembers these sort of MFI assembly instructions?
Fix panel A to panel C with 4 screws (F)
Fix panel B to panel C with 4 screws (F)
And after another 10 lines, once you have the outer case assembled, it said: Be sure to fit block Z to panel A with 2 screws (G) before fixing it to panel C with 4 screws (F)
I now know where the person who wrote the MFI leaflets went to when MFI went into liquidation.
He works at the parking machine headquarters.
Way down at the bottom of the instructions was the message ’If you have a private number plate, fill in the missing gaps at the end by adding zeros.’
What could be easier?
I entered XXXXXX and filled the line with zeros.
(I wonder who will be the first person to post that my number plate is not XXXXXX?)
And up came the message ’Invalid Number Plate’
Now, depending how you read that my number plate is not acceptable, or I am disabled.
My number plate is correct, so how did the machine know I was disabled?
Being impatient, it was now a choice of either go to reception, or attack the machine with an axe.
I went to reception as I had no axe.
After I wrote my registration number and name down for her, the ‘good looking blonde’ gave me a hand written receipt for 5 nights. I coughed up a Lady Godiva, and that was that.
She looked puzzled as my name or initials don’t match any part of my number plate. I left her guessing.
I put my car in a bay for disabled drivers. Because of lack of spaces the other 4 disabled spaces were taken up by cars with no disabled tax disc. What did I care? I had a space.
As the car park was almost full and I can’t see around corners, and am too lazy to walk and look, I asked if Josey was there yet. 'Blondie' pressed some buttons on her keyboard and said ‘Not yet, but I’ll let you know when he arrives.’
Unlike 2012, when parking was free, this year it was to cost £1 a day. The receptionist (good looking blonde) told me that cars for the extremely large office block on the other side of the road were using the Premier Inn car park during the day, so they decided to have machines installed that take cash or cards, and issue tickets. But if Premier Inn customers couldn’t find room to park, and went in search of space over the road, with no valid badges, they got clamped.
This obviously improved the finances of the Premier Inn, but didn’t solve any parking problems. The car park filled up with non-residents every day.
Not bothering to read instructions
I put a £1 coin in the slot, and it fell out in the return tray. I tried again, but this time the coin wouldn’t go in as the slot had closed.I then decided to read the instructions:
1. Enter your car registration number.
2. Confirm number is correct.
3. Press enter button.
4. Put in correct cash.
5. Press green button for ticket.
Good start, the £1 coin wouldn’t go in.
I repeated the above steps, twice. The coin slot remained closed.
Who remembers these sort of MFI assembly instructions?
Fix panel A to panel C with 4 screws (F)
Fix panel B to panel C with 4 screws (F)
And after another 10 lines, once you have the outer case assembled, it said: Be sure to fit block Z to panel A with 2 screws (G) before fixing it to panel C with 4 screws (F)
I now know where the person who wrote the MFI leaflets went to when MFI went into liquidation.
He works at the parking machine headquarters.
Way down at the bottom of the instructions was the message ’If you have a private number plate, fill in the missing gaps at the end by adding zeros.’
What could be easier?
I entered XXXXXX and filled the line with zeros.
(I wonder who will be the first person to post that my number plate is not XXXXXX?)
And up came the message ’Invalid Number Plate’
Now, depending how you read that
my number plate is not acceptable, or I am disabled. My number plate is correct, so how did the machine know I was disabled?
Being impatient, it was now a choice of either go to reception, or attack the machine with an axe.
I went to reception as I had no axe.
After I wrote my registration number and name down for her, the ‘good looking blonde’ gave me a hand written receipt for 5 nights. I coughed up a Lady Godiva, and that was that.
She looked puzzled as my name or initials don’t match any part of my number plate. I left her guessing.
I put my car in a bay for disabled drivers. Because of lack of spaces the other 4 disabled spaces were taken up by cars with no disabled tax disc. What did I care? I had a space.
As the car park was almost full and I can’t see around corners, and am too lazy to walk and look, I asked if Josey was there yet. 'Blondie' pressed some buttons on her keyboard and said ‘Not yet, but I’ll let you know when he arrives.’
‘What we have is a failure to communicate’
I thanked her and went off to my room, hung up my clobber, had a cuppa, caught a bit of news on the telly, then went downstairs for a smoke. It was 4-30 p.m. It’s unlike Josey (who lives in Harrogate) to be late. I phoned his mobile, but it went to voicemail, so I assumed he was still on the road.
I left a short message ‘I’m here, you’re not, ‘bye.’ No need for names, Josey always recognises my, what he calls, ’dulcet tones’
By 5-00 p.m. There was still no call from the receptionist. I decided to phone Ann, (Joseys wife) at home to see if there was a reported car or traffic problem. The home phone went to voicemail.
I then decided to phone Arthur to see where he was. The number wasn’t recognised. I then discovered that when I got my new phone I had missed a digit while entering his number.
At 6-15 p.m. it was time for a smoke.
As I crossed the lobby Arthur came out of the restaurant!! Cockneys and Glaswegians are alike with very short greeting methods, and not much evidence of handshakes.
Me: ’Art!!’
Arthur: ‘Yoh!!’
As we got to the hotel doors, I said ‘Heard from Josey?’
We stepped outside and he nodded towards the restaurant and said ‘He’s in there, waving at you through the window.’
They had been here over an hour. So much for phoning my room and letting me know of their arrival.
Josey said when he arrived I was talking to a man at the ticket machine. By the time he found a space, I was back outside the hotel doors smoking a cigar, and by the time he got the gear out of the car and looked again, I had gone back inside.
There is no truth in the malicious rumour that I was dodging lugging any gear inside and upstairs.
I thanked her and went off to my room, hung up my clobber, had a cuppa, caught a bit of news on the telly, then went downstairs for a smoke. It was 4-30 p.m. It’s unlike Josey (who lives in Harrogate) to be late. I phoned his mobile, but it went to voicemail, so I assumed he was still on the road.
I left a short message ‘I’m here, you’re not, ‘bye.’ No need for names, Josey always recognises my, what he calls, ’dulcet tones’
By 5-00 p.m. There was still no call from the receptionist. I decided to phone Ann, (Joseys wife) at home to see if there was a reported car or traffic problem. The home phone went to voicemail.
I then decided to phone Arthur to see where he was. The number wasn’t recognised. I then discovered that when I got my new phone I had missed a digit while entering his number.
At 6-15 p.m. it was time for a smoke.
As I crossed the lobby Arthur came out of the restaurant!! Cockneys and Glaswegians are alike with very short greeting methods, and not much evidence of handshakes.
Me: ’Art!!’
Arthur: ‘Yoh!!’
As we got to the hotel doors, I said ‘Heard from Josey?’
We stepped outside and he nodded towards the restaurant and said ‘He’s in there, waving at you through the window.’
They had been here over an hour. So much for phoning my room and letting me know of their arrival.
Josey said when he arrived I was talking to a man at the ticket machine. By the time he found a space, I was back outside the hotel doors smoking a cigar, and by the time he got the gear out of the car and looked again, I had gone back inside.
There is no truth in the malicious rumour that I was dodging lugging any gear inside and upstairs.
THAT’S A NICE VIEW OF SOME WOODS…
That’s what greeted Arthur and Katie with their technological gadgetry known as a Sat-Nav. I have no idea where they were, but more importantly, neither did they.
Later that evening, Lizzie got the same view using her Sat-Nav while trying to find us.
Lizzie needed somebody clever enough to tell her to turn the Sat-Nav off and get her here. It was a tad too late in the evening to rely on the Sun, so I did it by way of road names and numbers. She arrived soon after.
That’s what greeted Arthur and Katie with their technological gadgetry known as a Sat-Nav. I have no idea where they were, but more importantly, neither did they.
Later that evening, Lizzie got the same view using her Sat-Nav while trying to find us.
Lizzie needed somebody clever enough to tell her to turn the Sat-Nav off and get her here. It was a tad too late in the evening to rely on the Sun, so I did it by way of road names and numbers. She arrived soon after.
AVERAGE SPEED CAMERAS
They do what it says ‘on the tin’.
Some of us understand the terminology ‘average‘, but a lot of ‘drivers’ don’t. An abundance of idiots going from 40 m.p.h. to 70 m.p.h. then braking for the next camera will get a nice surprise soon in the post. Serves 'em right.
There were quite a few bright yellow signs near one lot of road works that had the message ‘CAMERAS NOT IN USE’ on them in black lettering. The roadwork crews were working, so the question is: ‘Do idiots really think that if the cameras ARE working, but the signs say they are NOT, that they will get off in court on a technicality. You can have 20/1 with me.
They do what it says ‘on the tin’.
Some of us understand the terminology ‘average‘, but a lot of ‘drivers’ don’t. An abundance of idiots going from 40 m.p.h. to 70 m.p.h. then braking for the next camera will get a nice surprise soon in the post. Serves 'em right.
There were quite a few bright yellow signs near one lot of road works that had the message ‘CAMERAS NOT IN USE’ on them in black lettering. The roadwork crews were working, so the question is: ‘Do idiots really think that if the cameras ARE working, but the signs say they are NOT, that they will get off in court on a technicality. You can have 20/1 with me.
A table was booked for about 8-00 p.m. in the restaurant. ‘Meal Deals’ consist of a starter, a main course, a dessert, a glass of whatever alcohol you choose, and a full English breakfast the next morning.
Waiters tend to get confused as there are people like me who only eat a main course, don’t drink alcohol and never eat a fried breakfast, so others build their meal deal around my main course. Wee Richie is the same as me on most nights. It all cuts down on expenses, which come to more than enough with a crew of 6 plus Ann arriving on Thursday, and Michelle, who we meet on the course, as she lives in Cheltenham.
Along the back of the table, left to right, were Arthur, Katie, Lizzie and Julie. Along the front, Wee Richie opposite Arthur, empty place opposite Katie, me opposite Lizzie, and Josey opposite Julie.
Our waiter was Alex, aged mid to late 20s, 5 feet 9 or thereabouts, stocky, with designer stubble and a pony tail. None of that mattered to anybody (except to Lizzie, I think she fancied a bite) because his manners and service were impeccable. Naturally, by the time he got to take our orders, we all knew who was ordering what, and for whom.
‘I’ll do ordinary meals first, then meal deals second, if that’s okay’ he said. Confusion reigned supreme as he got to the end where we were. I had been told to order a chicken wings starter, my own main course, an ice cream dessert and a glass of red wine.
My Golden Rule: never have steak on the first night away. If I keep the expenses down, God may throw us a few good results on the opening day at the Festival. I have stuck to it wherever we are, for years, and so far, it has worked quite well. I had fish, and very nice it was .
‘Your ice cream sir’ said Alex ‘two scoops of chocolate and one of vanilla, or two scoops of vanilla and one of chocolate?‘
‘Ask him’ I said and nodded towards Josey, which was another 1.01 landed when he ordered two choccy and one vanilla.
Julie asked for a starter, and nodded towards Wee Richie at the far end of the table ‘That’s for my husband.’ she said. Alex looked confused. Lizzie asked Julie ’What if he doesn’t like it?’ and Julie replied with a straight face ’He’ll eat what he’s told to eat.’
I asked Alex ’Confused mate?’ He just smiled.
I said ’So am I, she’s my mistress. I didn’t even know he was coming.‘
Lizzie ordered a plateful of something circular and yellow for a starter, I had no idea what it was, but Josey dutifully helped her eat it.
Arthur, who is good company, regaled us with some probably very funny stories, but being an idiot I had left my hearing aid in my room. Being polite, I just laughed when everybody else did.
Josey’s annual OCD of picking off the labels from Peroni bottles had abated as they had no Peroni here. But the Sol bottles escaped untouched. Perhaps he only does it to Peroni bottles??? More observation required.
Waiters tend to get confused as there are people like me who only eat a main course, don’t drink alcohol and never eat a fried breakfast, so others build their meal deal around my main course. Wee Richie is the same as me on most nights. It all cuts down on expenses, which come to more than enough with a crew of 6 plus Ann arriving on Thursday, and Michelle, who we meet on the course, as she lives in Cheltenham.
Along the back of the table, left to right, were Arthur, Katie, Lizzie and Julie. Along the front, Wee Richie opposite Arthur, empty place opposite Katie, me opposite Lizzie, and Josey opposite Julie.
Our waiter was Alex, aged mid to late 20s, 5 feet 9 or thereabouts, stocky, with designer stubble and a pony tail. None of that mattered to anybody (except to Lizzie, I think she fancied a bite)
because his manners and service were impeccable. Naturally, by the time he got to take our orders, we all knew who was ordering what, and for whom. ‘I’ll do ordinary meals first, then meal deals second, if that’s okay’ he said. Confusion reigned supreme as he got to the end where we were. I had been told to order a chicken wings starter, my own main course, an ice cream dessert and a glass of red wine.
My Golden Rule: never have steak on the first night away. If I keep the expenses down, God may throw us a few good results on the opening day at the Festival. I have stuck to it wherever we are, for years, and so far, it has worked quite well. I had fish, and very nice it was .
‘Your ice cream sir’ said Alex ‘two scoops of chocolate and one of vanilla, or two scoops of vanilla and one of chocolate?‘
‘Ask him’ I said and nodded towards Josey, which was another 1.01 landed when he ordered two choccy and one vanilla.
Julie asked for a starter, and nodded towards Wee Richie at the far end of the table ‘That’s for my husband.’ she said. Alex looked confused. Lizzie asked Julie ’What if he doesn’t like it?’ and Julie replied with a straight face ’He’ll eat what he’s told to eat.’
I asked Alex ’Confused mate?’ He just smiled.
I said ’So am I, she’s my mistress. I didn’t even know he was coming.‘
Lizzie ordered a plateful of something circular and yellow for a starter, I had no idea what it was, but Josey dutifully helped her eat it.
Arthur, who is good company, regaled us with some probably very funny stories, but being an idiot I had left my hearing aid in my room. Being polite, I just laughed when everybody else did.
Josey’s annual OCD of picking off the labels from Peroni bottles had abated as they had no Peroni here. But the Sol bottles escaped untouched. Perhaps he only does it to Peroni bottles??? More observation required.
IT'S GORGEOUS GEORGE!!
After dinner we sat about for a while, discussing, among other things, the BBC. No, not that BBC, I refer of course, to the British Bookmakers Cleanup.
Haircuts, shaves, protruding hair from lug’oles and nostrils all nicely trimmed. And I must say, Julie looked all the better for it (that’ll get me a slap next year)
Katie showed me and Wee Richie a photo of Arthur just a week before we came away. He had a full beard, and could have passed himself off as Gorgeous George Galloway in an instant. She showed the photo to Josey, and I said ’It’s Gorgeous George’. He just nodded, not realising that it was Arthur, and had to have a second look
I had removed my 3 month old white beard on Sunday, and shaved again on Monday morning. Josey was sporting designer stubble, well not strictly designer, the lazy git came here unshaved. My beloved phoned to see how I was, and asked after Josey and Lizzie, as she always does.
‘He’s got stubble, but you made me shave this morning’ I said.
She laughed ‘That will have to come off, and if I didn’t nag you, you’d have turned up with that beard, and we didn’t want that, did we?’
‘No dear, you didn’t.’ I replied.
Wee Richie didn’t need cleaning up. He has a very short hairstyle, no whiskers, and his boots, as ever, were like black mirrors.
Just for a change, all the swiped entry cards were working.
Bed beckoned for the last 3 remaining up, me, Arthur and Wee Richie, at about 11-30 p.m.
After dinner we sat about for a while, discussing, among other things, the BBC. No, not that BBC, I refer of course, to the British Bookmakers Cleanup.
Haircuts, shaves, protruding hair from lug’oles and nostrils all nicely trimmed. And I must say, Julie looked all the better for it (that’ll get me a slap next year)
Katie showed me and Wee Richie a photo of Arthur just a week before we came away. He had a full beard, and could have passed himself off as Gorgeous George Galloway in an instant. She showed the photo to Josey, and I said ’It’s Gorgeous George’. He just nodded, not realising that it was Arthur, and had to have a second look
I had removed my 3 month old white beard on Sunday, and shaved again on Monday morning. Josey was sporting designer stubble, well not strictly designer, the lazy git came here unshaved. My beloved phoned to see how I was, and asked after Josey and Lizzie, as she always does.
‘He’s got stubble, but you made me shave this morning’ I said.
She laughed ‘That will have to come off, and if I didn’t nag you, you’d have turned up with that beard, and we didn’t want that, did we?’
‘No dear, you didn’t.’ I replied.
Wee Richie didn’t need cleaning up. He has a very short hairstyle, no whiskers, and his boots, as ever, were like black mirrors.
Just for a change, all the swiped entry cards were working.
Bed beckoned for the last 3 remaining up, me, Arthur and Wee Richie, at about 11-30 p.m.
As bad as this is, it's still better than that 'Twilight' rubbish.
Vampires that come out in daylight ffs.
In case todays teenagers are scared of the dark no doubt.
Vampires that come out in daylight ffs.
In case todays teenagers are scared of the dark no doubt.
OFF TO THE COURSE
How Josey manages a full English breakfast at 7-00 a.m. after eating a 3 course meal at 9-30 the previous night is beyond me, but he does it, with the usual gusto. We’re roughly the same height, so I’m convinced he’s lying through his Hampsteads when he says he weighs 15 stones. On the other hand I could be a smidgeon overweight at 15 stones and 35 pounds…
Gear loaded in cars, and much easier to do without that dilapidated old suitcase we used to have. The replacement item was a large travel bag. Almost everything that rolled around inside the suitcase was now crammed into this bag. So much so that a few hundred quids worth of £1 coins had to remain under the seats in the car.
Josey phoned me a few weeks ago and told me had a pool of water in the passenger well. I have the same problem now and again, but it’s strange how water gets in. My last trip home from seeing my daughters in Colchester was in torrential rain, for 105 miles, one week before Cheltenham, but the next morning the car was dry inside.
I saw no rain while I was away at the races, but I’d bet that if I took up my front passenger side carpets, there would be water in there again. It never gets in the drivers side.
Josey said that his ‘leak’ was solved by somebody looking at the air ducts, which were full up with dead leaves and other crap. Josey cleans his car less often than I go to church on Sundays. Ducts all cleaned out, problem solved. I have two layers of carpet in my car, the original Jaguar carpets, and a grey one over the top of those. The carpets go over a thick layer of foam rubber, which soaks up any water that gets in. One week before I head off to Cheltenham, the carpets are layed out in the back garden for the Sun to dry out any last bits of moisture left in them.
I was wearing a padded anorak, so I put my jumper on the floor in the front for the journey. When I got out of the car at Cheltenham and put my jumper on, it was wet in places. Josey didn’t take his carpets out to dry them ffs.
How Josey manages a full English breakfast at 7-00 a.m. after eating a 3 course meal at 9-30 the previous night is beyond me, but he does it, with the usual gusto. We’re roughly the same height, so I’m convinced he’s lying through his Hampsteads when he says he weighs 15 stones. On the other hand I could be a smidgeon overweight at 15 stones and 35 pounds…
Gear loaded in cars, and much easier to do without that dilapidated old suitcase we used to have. The replacement item was a large travel bag. Almost everything that rolled around inside the suitcase was now crammed into this bag. So much so that a few hundred quids worth of £1 coins had to remain under the seats in the car.
Josey phoned me a few weeks ago and told me had a pool of water in the passenger well. I have the same problem now and again, but it’s strange how water gets in. My last trip home from seeing my daughters in Colchester was in torrential rain, for 105 miles, one week before Cheltenham, but the next morning the car was dry inside.
I saw no rain while I was away at the races, but I’d bet that if I took up my front passenger side carpets, there would be water in there again. It never gets in the drivers side.
Josey said that his ‘leak’ was solved by somebody looking at the air ducts, which were full up with dead leaves and other crap. Josey cleans his car less often than I go to church on Sundays. Ducts all cleaned out, problem solved. I have two layers of carpet in my car, the original Jaguar carpets, and a grey one over the top of those. The carpets go over a thick layer of foam rubber, which soaks up any water that gets in. One week before I head off to Cheltenham, the carpets are layed out in the back garden for the Sun to dry out any last bits of moisture left in them.
I was wearing a padded anorak, so I put my jumper on the floor in the front for the journey. When I got out of the car at Cheltenham and put my jumper on, it was wet in places. Josey didn’t take his carpets out to dry them ffs.
Arthur never turned off the A46 to pick up the M5, and carried on to the A435 following signs for Cheltenham instead. That’s a slow road to get into town by, and Katie was going to Sainsburys to get all the sandwiches, chocolate bars, crisps and bottled water. We meet in the Dragon Vet Centre car park (where loads of bookies park) just inside the Best Mate gates, as Josey holds all the entry tickets to the course. We had to wait for Arthur, already held up by not going onto the M5, and he wasn’t impressed with the queue in Sainsburys as Katie was in there for over 20 minutes.
I have no idea what chocolate bars and crisps cost at the course, but hot sausage rolls or pasties are £4 to £5 a throw, and bottled water at the course is £1-90 a bottle. Tea and coffee are £1-90, but for some obscure reason, hot chocolate is £2.
I was wearing a padded anorak, so I put my jumper on the floor in the front for the journey. When I got out of the car at Cheltenham and put my jumper on, it was wet in places Josey hadn’t taken his carpets out to dry them out ffs.
All off to the gates in a group, tickets handed over and on to the course. It’s cold, but not as cold as last year. No sign of Terry yet (Gogoidle), he was working for VC this year. Other bookies exchanged pleasantries, and all the security staff were from a new company. It’s probably hard to get them to do this venue twice as it’s manic. Stopping people from going through the tunnel under the stands with alcoholic drinks is okay when they’re on their first one, but not that good when they‘re drunk.
The only good thing about cold weather is that the curtains on the catering tent stay closed in the two middle sections. This stops punters walking between our joint and the joint next door. All the relevant stuff in its correct place, with laptop bags and other valuables tied to the ratchet straps holding the roof of the catering tent on, to stop any would be thieves walking off with stuff. It has never happened here, but at Aintree, if it moves, it’s best to nail it down!! The board was up and betting on the first race started before noon.
I have no idea what chocolate bars and crisps cost at the course, but hot sausage rolls or pasties are £4 to £5 a throw, and bottled water at the course is £1-90 a bottle. Tea and coffee are £1-90, but for some obscure reason, hot chocolate is £2.
I was wearing a padded anorak, so I put my jumper on the floor in the front for the journey. When I got out of the car at Cheltenham and put my jumper on, it was wet in places Josey hadn’t taken his carpets out to dry them out ffs.
All off to the gates in a group, tickets handed over and on to the course. It’s cold, but not as cold as last year. No sign of Terry yet (Gogoidle), he was working for VC this year. Other bookies exchanged pleasantries, and all the security staff were from a new company. It’s probably hard to get them to do this venue twice as it’s manic. Stopping people from going through the tunnel under the stands with alcoholic drinks is okay when they’re on their first one, but not that good when they‘re drunk.
The only good thing about cold weather is that the curtains on the catering tent stay closed in the two middle sections. This stops punters walking between our joint and the joint next door. All the relevant stuff in its correct place, with laptop bags and other valuables tied to the ratchet straps holding the roof of the catering tent on, to stop any would be thieves walking off with stuff. It has never happened here, but at Aintree, if it moves, it’s best to nail it down!! The board was up and betting on the first race started before noon.
Walking about greeting regular faces, closely watching the odds of the bookies either side of us, chatting to security staff, and smoking cigars. Not doing a thing worth doing basically, until the first race is over.
First race over, won by Vautour, the 7/2 joint favourite. The second horse well supported each way, and the third was a bad place result. The payout queues for bookies were similar to those that the pensioners made on Mondays at Canning Town Post Office.
You can stop crying now…
I could obviously see the start of the queue, but certainly couldn’t see the end as all the bookies queues mingled together the further away from the joints they were. This early in the day it’s rare to get somebody in the wrong queue, those moments of joy would come later..1.01.
The main body of the queue had died down after 15 to 20 minutes, there were still a few left to pay as some people come up later rather than queue for ages when a fancied horse wins. At this meeting, all bookies lay every horse in every race, no matter what price it is. New racegoers will back short odds favourites each way, which is a pain in the arse when paying out. None of them EVER come up with the correct change so you can pay them in notes, and you can do a small fortune in ‘shrapnel’ in loose change, or hold the queue up asking for change. Either way, it’s time consuming. Mind you, the number of ’seasoned’ punters who came up after backing the 2nd each way at 14/1, never had £1 or £2 ready to be able to collect £20 or £40, which really gets on my threepenny bits.
Race 2 was a much better result for all the books. Western Warhorse, one of two rags in the field, got up by a head on the line at ‘dirty knees’ to beat the much fancied 11/4 joint favourite Champagne Fever. One of those in the payout queue had a fiver each way on the winner and second. I meant to ask him if he had a forecast. but he took the cash and was gone in a flash. One of the old boys I talk to every year backed the winner as well. His mate backed the second, and they were swearing at each other from the last fence to the line
First race over, won by Vautour, the 7/2 joint favourite. The second horse well supported each way, and the third was a bad place result. The payout queues for bookies were similar to those that the pensioners made on Mondays at Canning Town Post Office.
You can stop crying now…
I could obviously see the start of the queue, but certainly couldn’t see the end as all the bookies queues mingled together the further away from the joints they were. This early in the day it’s rare to get somebody in the wrong queue, those moments of joy would come later..1.01.
The main body of the queue had died down after 15 to 20 minutes, there were still a few left to pay as some people come up later rather than queue for ages when a fancied horse wins. At this meeting, all bookies lay every horse in every race, no matter what price it is. New racegoers will back short odds favourites each way, which is a pain in the arse when paying out. None of them EVER come up with the correct change so you can pay them in notes, and you can do a small fortune in ‘shrapnel’ in loose change, or hold the queue up asking for change. Either way, it’s time consuming. Mind you, the number of ’seasoned’ punters who came up after backing the 2nd each way at 14/1, never had £1 or £2 ready to be able to collect £20 or £40, which really gets on my threepenny bits.
Race 2 was a much better result for all the books. Western Warhorse, one of two rags in the field, got up by a head on the line at ‘dirty knees’ to beat the much fancied 11/4 joint favourite Champagne Fever. One of those in the payout queue had a fiver each way on the winner and second. I meant to ask him if he had a forecast. but he took the cash and was gone in a flash. One of the old boys I talk to every year backed the winner as well. His mate backed the second, and they were swearing at each other from the last fence to the line
The live music from the beer tent, which is behind the catering tent, was okay if you’re partly Mutt ‘n Jeff, like me. All I could hear was the ‘boom boom’ of the bass line. The group were called the Chip Shop Boys. I never knew until Josey told me that night that they played the same 4 songs all day long!!
Jonjo O’Neills nag, Holywell, the 3rd favourite at 10/1, won race 3. It had 7 or 8 entries over the 4 days, so wherever it ran, it was bound to run well.
One of the payout queue was a young bird who came up with two tickets. ‘Lovely money.’ she smiled. She had the winner and the third. I paid her out both sums together.
‘That’s not right! Look!‘ she snapped, and pointed to the tickets.
She had decided that she was entitled to win money and place money, on both horses.
I pointed to the ticket and said ’That one didn’t win. You only get the place money.’
No apology for snapping at me, the ignorant cloth-eared bint just walked off in a huff.
About 5 minutes later was the first one of the day who was in the wrong queue. ’Alright mate? That’s my first winner today.’ he beamed
‘Well done you.‘ I said and smiled back at him, not taking his ticket.
‘What’s wrong’ he asked
‘Nothing wrong with the ticket.’ I said. ‘It’s a winner, but it's not one of ours.’
I love it when they do that. Now he had to head off to the arse end of another queue.
One of the payout queue was a young bird who came up with two tickets. ‘Lovely money.’ she smiled. She had the winner and the third. I paid her out both sums together.
‘That’s not right! Look!‘ she snapped, and pointed to the tickets.
She had decided that she was entitled to win money and place money, on both horses.
I pointed to the ticket and said ’That one didn’t win. You only get the place money.’
No apology for snapping at me, the ignorant cloth-eared bint just walked off in a huff.
About 5 minutes later was the first one of the day who was in the wrong queue. ’Alright mate? That’s my first winner today.’ he beamed
‘Well done you.‘ I said and smiled back at him, not taking his ticket.
‘What’s wrong’ he asked
‘Nothing wrong with the ticket.’ I said. ‘It’s a winner, but it's not one of ours.’
I love it when they do that. Now he had to head off to the arse end of another queue.
The 4th race was won by Jezki, not really unexpected at 9/1 and fifth best. Our Conor survived his fall, but sadly, had to be put down on the vets advice.
The bloke who had the first two home in the Arkle had the first two home in this race. He was near the end of the queue so there was time to ask him ’Did you do a forecast?’
The reply was ’What’s a forecast?’
In despair I lit a cigar while Michelle explained the vagaries of the Tote and forecast betting.
The bloke who had the first two home in the Arkle had the first two home in this race. He was near the end of the queue so there was time to ask him ’Did you do a forecast?’
The reply was ’What’s a forecast?’
In despair I lit a cigar while Michelle explained the vagaries of the Tote and forecast betting.
The 5th race went to the hotpot Quevega, the payout queues were astronomical, and the drink had flowed merrily among punters. One came up for about £85 to come. He handed me his ticket, it was one of ours, but not from this joint, it was from our joint out in the ring through the tunnel under the stands.
‘I put it on here.’ he said
‘You didn’t mate, this ticket is yellow, out tickets are blue, This ticket starts with five zero zero, Ours start with nine zero zero. You need to go to our joint out in front of the stand, where you placed the bet.’
‘I haven’t been out there.’ he said
‘You have, you got this ticket from that joint.‘ I replied
‘Where is it then?’ he asked
‘Go under the tunnel, the bookies are all on your left, you want the front row, 2 from this end.‘
Clear enough instruction I’d say.
Given the density of the crowd I couldn’t walk out there and back in under 3 minutes.
Less than two minutes later he was back.
‘I can’t find it.’ he said
I told him where it was again.
He was soon back.
‘Are you winding me up’ I asked laughing.
He said ’No‘…. with a straight face.
‘I’ll pay you it here’ I said ’but if you go out there with the Ring Inspector after the last race to try and claim it again, I‘ll hunt you down like a dog.’ I paid him his money, and while the next race was running, I took the ticket round to Arthur’s joint myself. I took no chances as we wouldn’t see Arthur until we got back to the car park, and he could have claimed it by then if he was ‘at it.’
Race 6 saw quite a few in the wrong queue, much to my amusement. Especially one filly, who handed in a ticket for Albert Britannia, who was betting two joints away.
‘I thought I could draw it at any bookies, like the Tote windows.’ she said.
I don’t know which was funnier, that or ‘What’s a forecast?’
‘I put it on here.’ he said
‘You didn’t mate, this ticket is yellow, out tickets are blue, This ticket starts with five zero zero, Ours start with nine zero zero. You need to go to our joint out in front of the stand, where you placed the bet.’
‘I haven’t been out there.’ he said
‘You have, you got this ticket from that joint.‘ I replied
‘Where is it then?’ he asked
‘Go under the tunnel, the bookies are all on your left, you want the front row, 2 from this end.‘
Clear enough instruction I’d say.
Given the density of the crowd I couldn’t walk out there and back in under 3 minutes.
Less than two minutes later he was back.
‘I can’t find it.’ he said
I told him where it was again.
He was soon back.
‘Are you winding me up’ I asked laughing.
He said ’No‘…. with a straight face.
‘I’ll pay you it here’ I said ’but if you go out there with the Ring Inspector after the last race to try and claim it again, I‘ll hunt you down like a dog.’
I paid him his money, and while the next race was running, I took the ticket round to Arthur’s joint myself. I took no chances as we wouldn’t see Arthur until we got back to the car park, and he could have claimed it by then if he was ‘at it.’ Race 6 saw quite a few in the wrong queue, much to my amusement. Especially one filly, who handed in a ticket for Albert Britannia, who was betting two joints away.
‘I thought I could draw it at any bookies, like the Tote windows.’ she said.
I don’t know which was funnier, that or ‘What’s a forecast?’
After the last race all the gear was packed away and hauled back to the car park, then we sat in the traffic outside the course for ages.
I did up two races figures in the car, but darkness beat me to the third race. They were restarted when we got back, with a nice cuppa.
In the restaurant that night Meal Deals galore were ordered, I settled for just one course, the steak.
I did up two races figures in the car, but darkness beat me to the third race. They were restarted when we got back, with a nice cuppa.
In the restaurant that night Meal Deals galore were ordered, I settled for just one course, the steak.
Tuesday night conversation in the restaurant was for old INNER CIRCLE members only.
To find out what this enthralling episode was about, please send an email to the appropriate address, along with your membership number.
To find out what this enthralling episode was about, please send an email to the appropriate address, along with your membership number.
WEDNESDAY MORNING
Up early as usual and a quick cuppa just before 6-00 a.m. followed by a trip down to the restaurant to get a pint of milk for my WEETABIX, then outside for a smoke.
When I got back upstairs Wee Richie stirred. He looked out of the window, it was foggy again. He said ’There are people smoking outside, what’s the time?
’Quarter past six’ I said
‘Occch naw, that’s the middle of the night.’ and promptly went back to sleep.
I read the traffic news on BBC, and the A46 was closed at the Sherbourne roundabout. A lorry’s brakes had failed, he had hit something, and was spilling diesel all over the road.
When I went down for another smoke at 7-35 I saw Arthur. He had seen the news as well. It was no help to us as neither of us knew where this roundabout was situated, south on our route, or north towards Coventry.
I went back up and called Richie, it was 7-55. He said ’5 more minutes.’ and immediately dropped off again.
I gave him 6 minutes, then I shouted ‘OY!’ and kicked his bed.
He must have been in a deep sleep because he sat bolt upright and said ‘What’s happening?’
‘8-01. Time to move.’
And move he does. Shower and shave, polishes his boots, combs his hair and gets dressed while the kettle boils for his flask of pot noodle, or wet cardboard, whichever tastes the nicer of the two. Roughly 25 minutes later he’s in the restaurant with a coffee waiting to load Arthur’s car.
Josey had no idea where this roundabout incident was either, but the latest bulletin said that one lane was now open. He said ‘We’ll go the normal way and play it by ear.’ It turned out that the roundabout in question was the first one we came to on the A46. Police and breakdown truck in attendance, the lorry was on the grass verge in the middle,and the traffic flow was fine.
Up early as usual and a quick cuppa just before 6-00 a.m. followed by a trip down to the restaurant to get a pint of milk for my WEETABIX, then outside for a smoke.
When I got back upstairs Wee Richie stirred. He looked out of the window, it was foggy again. He said ’There are people smoking outside, what’s the time?
’Quarter past six’ I said
‘Occch naw, that’s the middle of the night.’
and promptly went back to sleep. I read the traffic news on BBC, and the A46 was closed at the Sherbourne roundabout. A lorry’s brakes had failed, he had hit something, and was spilling diesel all over the road.
When I went down for another smoke at 7-35 I saw Arthur. He had seen the news as well. It was no help to us as neither of us knew where this roundabout was situated, south on our route, or north towards Coventry.
I went back up and called Richie, it was 7-55. He said ’5 more minutes.’ and immediately dropped off again.
I gave him 6 minutes, then I shouted ‘OY!’ and kicked his bed.
He must have been in a deep sleep because he sat bolt upright and said ‘What’s happening?’
‘8-01. Time to move.’
And move he does. Shower and shave, polishes his boots, combs his hair and gets dressed while the kettle boils for his flask of pot noodle, or wet cardboard, whichever tastes the nicer of the two.
Roughly 25 minutes later he’s in the restaurant with a coffee waiting to load Arthur’s car. Josey had no idea where this roundabout incident was either, but the latest bulletin said that one lane was now open. He said ‘We’ll go the normal way and play it by ear.’ It turned out that the roundabout in question was the first one we came to on the A46. Police and breakdown truck in attendance, the lorry was on the grass verge in the middle,and the traffic flow was fine.
On course, joint set up by 10-30, I got my first surprise. Due to lack of room on Tuesday I had hung the grub bag on the ratchet straps on the catering tent. The bag was still there, with 4 bags of crisps, 4 chunky kit kats and a few caramel bars. Most unusual, security guards or the cleaners generally have what’s left. The water bottles had gone though.
WIN A PACKET - BET WITH THE JACKET
Is the actual slogan on the jacket of the bookie next to Arthur’s joint out the front. His name is Guy, and him and his co-worker Darren have frightfully posh accents.
Arthur reckons it’s like working next door to Prince Charles
We came up with similar slogans for our joint.
‘Let’s get busy, bet with Lizzie’
‘Don’t be dimmer, bet with Glimmer.’
I suppose it’s lucky that none of us have the surname Hunt really…
WIN A PACKET - BET WITH THE JACKET
Is the actual slogan on the jacket of the bookie next to Arthur’s joint out the front. His name is Guy, and him and his co-worker Darren have frightfully posh accents.
Arthur reckons it’s like working next door to Prince Charles
We came up with similar slogans for our joint.
‘Let’s get busy, bet with Lizzie’
‘Don’t be dimmer, bet with Glimmer.’
I suppose it’s lucky that none of us have the surname Hunt really…
I was sitting putting Tuesdays tickets into their separate races, and then put each race ticket into numerical order, then into 7 different bags. There are 4 reasons for doing this
A) Something to do before racing starts
B) To make it easier for counting when Josey got home at the weekend
C) To write down ticket numbers of any sleepers
D) This enables us to be able to pay yesterdays tickets at a glance rather than searching for, and then through, the payout list.
I was doing Quevegas race and had tickets between all my fingers from different blocks of 100 tickets, when Darren, who had come to do something with the computer for Josey, and who had never spoken to me in 6 years, suddenly said ‘Morning John, how’s it going?’
As you can imagine, people who speak frightfully posh are not my first port of call for a conversation, and I never knew that he knew my name ’Bearing up under the strain.‘ I said.
Then ‘What do you think of my screensaver?’ he asked
I stoop up and walked towards the computer and then realised I knew what it was. By coincidence, it was briefly mentioned in despatches during the INNER CIRCLE conversation the previous evening.
It was the Ballroom in Blackpool Tower.
‘I’ve played the Wurlitzer organ in there’ said Darren
‘Really? Funny story about that place from years ago’ I said.
‘Do tell’ he said.
So I did.
I was in there with wife and daughters when they were aged about 9 and 11. There was a dance of some sort going on, and loads of teenagers were dancing in their own style to exactly the same music as middle aged couples on the floor.
A middle aged bloke was whizzing his equally middle aged partner around the floor, they were like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers compared to the others, and were dancing really well to any dance music that was played.
I decided to film them. I wasn’t being secretive, I just held the video camera up and started filming. About two minutes later he spotted me and whispered into his partners ear. They then left the dance floor together and sat down.
Darren said ‘Oh the fool.’ then after a brief pause he followed up with ’perhaps he was on disability benefit.’
A) Something to do before racing starts
B) To make it easier for counting when Josey got home at the weekend
C) To write down ticket numbers of any sleepers
D) This enables us to be able to pay yesterdays tickets at a glance rather than searching for, and then through, the payout list.
I was doing Quevegas race and had tickets between all my fingers from different blocks of 100 tickets, when Darren, who had come to do something with the computer for Josey, and who had never spoken to me in 6 years, suddenly said ‘Morning John, how’s it going?’
As you can imagine, people who speak frightfully posh are not my first port of call for a conversation, and I never knew that he knew my name ’Bearing up under the strain.‘ I said.
Then ‘What do you think of my screensaver?’ he asked
I stoop up and walked towards the computer and then realised I knew what it was. By coincidence, it was briefly mentioned in despatches during the INNER CIRCLE conversation the previous evening.
It was the Ballroom in Blackpool Tower.
‘I’ve played the Wurlitzer organ in there’ said Darren
‘Really? Funny story about that place from years ago’ I said.
‘Do tell’ he said.
So I did.
I was in there with wife and daughters when they were aged about 9 and 11. There was a dance of some sort going on, and loads of teenagers were dancing in their own style to exactly the same music as middle aged couples on the floor.
A middle aged bloke was whizzing his equally middle aged partner around the floor, they were like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers compared to the others, and were dancing really well to any dance music that was played.
I decided to film them. I wasn’t being secretive, I just held the video camera up and started filming. About two minutes later he spotted me and whispered into his partners ear. They then left the dance floor together and sat down.
Darren said ‘Oh the fool.’ then after a brief pause he followed up with ’perhaps he was on disability benefit.’
After he had finished doing whatever he was up to on the computer, Darren lashed out on 5 cups of tea.
Another £9-50p gone.
There was half an hour to go to the first race, and as usual, the place was filling up with punters. I had my head under the table getting some £1 coins out and when I got back up a Betfair scarf had landed on the table, and as nobody came for it in the next 10 minutes it went into my bag. Iirc, the slogan on the scarves is different each year. I have 4 or 5, and if I get any that are missing I’ll put them on e-bay as a set.
Racing got under way, Michelle, who is south African, still has trouble understanding my cockney accent. ’If you mean ‘three‘, say ‘three‘ she says.
‘I do say what I mean, if I mean ‘free’ I say ‘free‘ - I laugh, so do the punters (generally) but she doesn’t..
As for glottal stops, when a cockney counts in tens, it’s strange that the ’t’ is pronounced in 10, 50 and 60, but nowhere else.
10 - pronounced as ten - no problem
20 - the first ‘t’ is pronounced, but the second ‘t’ isn’t a glottal stop, it’s a double ’n’ - twenny
30 - starts with an ’f’ and a glottal stop for the ‘t’
40 - glottal ‘t’
50 - the ‘t’ is pronounced as ‘t’
60 - the ‘t’ is pronounced as ‘t’
70 - glottal ‘t’ back to double ‘n’ - sevenny
80 - glottal ‘t’
90- glottal ‘t’
100 - ‘undred
Another £9-50p gone.
There was half an hour to go to the first race, and as usual, the place was filling up with punters. I had my head under the table getting some £1 coins out and when I got back up a Betfair scarf had landed on the table, and as nobody came for it in the next 10 minutes it went into my bag. Iirc, the slogan on the scarves is different each year. I have 4 or 5, and if I get any that are missing I’ll put them on e-bay as a set.
Racing got under way, Michelle, who is south African, still has trouble understanding my cockney accent. ’If you mean ‘three‘, say ‘three‘ she says.
‘I do say what I mean, if I mean ‘free’ I say ‘free‘ - I laugh, so do the punters (generally) but she doesn’t..
As for glottal stops, when a cockney counts in tens, it’s strange that the ’t’ is pronounced in 10, 50 and 60, but nowhere else.
10 - pronounced as ten - no problem
20 - the first ‘t’ is pronounced, but the second ‘t’ isn’t a glottal stop, it’s a double ’n’ - twenny
30 - starts with an ’f’ and a glottal stop for the ‘t’
40 - glottal ‘t’
50 - the ‘t’ is pronounced as ‘t’
60 - the ‘t’ is pronounced as ‘t’
70 - glottal ‘t’ back to double ‘n’ - sevenny
80 - glottal ‘t’
90- glottal ‘t’
100 - ‘undred
Get your hankies before you read the next bit...
It was a dire afternoon for results, the hot ‘jolly’ won the first by half of the proverbial track, the places were murderous in the 2nd, same again for the 3rd, the favourite won the 4th, the 2nd favourite won the 5th, then suddenly the combination of Easterby and Hughes got the books a result at a double carpet in the 6th, and the beast from the Weld stable beat off the Mullins charge in the bumper at 16’s.
We could afford beans on our toast tonight... :)
So far so good with keycards at the hotel, not one had failed yet.
I was tired by the time we got back to the hotel, and didn’t do any counting of tickets. After another steak and a few glasses of juice’d’orange avec ice, too tired to even stay awake and watch the highlights of the day on television, I was off to bed long before midnight, but had a restless night.
Thursday morning - and the day they celebrate St Patricks Day on the course.
Morning og as usual, and off to the course by 8-45 a.m.
It was a dire afternoon for results, the hot ‘jolly’ won the first by half of the proverbial track, the places were murderous in the 2nd, same again for the 3rd, the favourite won the 4th, the 2nd favourite won the 5th, then suddenly the combination of Easterby and Hughes got the books a result at a double carpet in the 6th, and the beast from the Weld stable beat off the Mullins charge in the bumper at 16’s.
We could afford beans on our toast tonight... :)
So far so good with keycards at the hotel, not one had failed yet.
I was tired by the time we got back to the hotel, and didn’t do any counting of tickets. After another steak and a few glasses of juice’d’orange avec ice, too tired to even stay awake and watch the highlights of the day on television, I was off to bed long before midnight, but had a restless night.
Thursday morning - and the day they celebrate St Patricks Day on the course.
Morning og as usual, and off to the course by 8-45 a.m.
Sorry about the f in fog
I did all the previous days tickets, puffed a few cigars, chatted to a few punters and told a few security staff about the day they faced as it was St Patricks Day celebrations day.
I recognised a few regulars who have bet with us over the years. One I couldn’t miss as he stands about 6 feet 6 and built like a ‘brick building out in the garden.’ With him were another who is not as tall or as big, but going by his ‘fizzog’ is undoubtedly his brother, plus two mates.
There had been a mum in her late 20s with a baby in a buggy the last few 3 or 4 years, but there was no sign of her this year. Perhaps she found a better pastime…
I did all the previous days tickets, puffed a few cigars, chatted to a few punters and told a few security staff about the day they faced as it was St Patricks Day celebrations day.
I recognised a few regulars who have bet with us over the years. One I couldn’t miss as he stands about 6 feet 6 and built like a ‘brick building out in the garden.’ With him were another who is not as tall or as big, but going by his ‘fizzog’ is undoubtedly his brother, plus two mates.
There had been a mum in her late 20s with a baby in a buggy the last few 3 or 4 years, but there was no sign of her this year. Perhaps she found a better pastime…
Hello scissors, we’ve not been back to Kendal there since we met in Cumbria. How many years ago was that? As you know, this is not an easy place to find, and I still laugh at the memory of the ‘crafty onion lady‘ who got in your new car and stank it out while she showed you how to get here. And when she got out in her village and told you to go to the top of the road and turn right, you were still completely lost as she only wanted a lift home.
Forumites Josey Wales and Curious Cat also got lost when they came here separately. Sister-in-law and kids, and my best mate and his wife, also got lost. My sister has got lost 3 times coming here, but she never was any good at memory tasks. We have a couple coming up on Thursday next week from Kent, so there is little doubt that they will do the same.
Forumites Josey Wales and Curious Cat also got lost when they came here separately. Sister-in-law and kids, and my best mate and his wife, also got lost. My sister has got lost 3 times coming here, but she never was any good at memory tasks. We have a couple coming up on Thursday next week from Kent, so there is little doubt that they will do the same.
Due to a lot going on at home since I got home from Cheltenham the sending of these posts has slowed down compared to recent years, and not having made any notes, apart from the racing, a lot of what went on has been forgotten. Don’t forget to look in on Friday though, as notes have been made since I got home, and there’s one tale that nobody will believe.
I think it was Thursday that Terry (Gogoidle) met us in the car park. And looking very smart he was, as you’d expect working for VC. Terry can count money and calculate odds, but ask him how many kids he’s got and he looks confused as there are so many… The pocket money each month would pay off the debt of a small third world country
Small world (for the benefit of the viewing public)
the bloke I worked with for over 30 years in London went to Ascot for a day out with Bill (VC’s right hand man) as they are old friends. He helped out on the payout, but having never worked on course before, he was embarrassed to admit that he made a few mistakes which cost VC a few quid.
When I had mentioned him to Terry in emails over the years, Terry realised that it was him working with him and Bill at Ascot on the day he made the errors.
Terry (I know you’ll look in)
I spoke to Ray last week, but he can’t remember you. I said ‘You only made mistakes on that day, he was there with you and Bill. He used to work at the Stow, lives in Chigwell, about 5 feet 9, stocky, short greyish brown hair.'
I couldn’t describe you much more, but he still doesn’t remember you
Email me a photo, see if that jogs his memory.
The pocket money each month would pay off the debt of a small third world country Small world (for the benefit of the viewing public)
the bloke I worked with for over 30 years in London went to Ascot for a day out with Bill (VC’s right hand man) as they are old friends. He helped out on the payout, but having never worked on course before, he was embarrassed to admit that he made a few mistakes which cost VC a few quid.
When I had mentioned him to Terry in emails over the years, Terry realised that it was him working with him and Bill at Ascot on the day he made the errors.
Terry (I know you’ll look in)
I spoke to Ray last week, but he can’t remember you. I said ‘You only made mistakes on that day, he was there with you and Bill. He used to work at the Stow, lives in Chigwell, about 5 feet 9, stocky, short greyish brown hair.'
I couldn’t describe you much more, but he still doesn’t remember you
Email me a photo, see if that jogs his memory.
I told the security guards near us that they were lucky they weren’t in the beer tent as it was bound to kick off before the day was over. ‘Not big enough’ one said and smiled ’all the big fellas are in the beer tent.’ He was about 5 feet 11 inches tall and at a guess, 12 stones soaked through. The ones in the beer tent are all over 6 feet tall, and you’d get no change from 18 stones with any of them. They range from normal looking (hair, no moustache or tattoos) to bald headed with moustaches or goatee beards. I’ve never understood why men shave their heads then grow a beard by way of compensation. Almost as bad as middle-aged women who shave off their eyebrows then draw them back on with a black pencil
I think it was Thursday that Lizzie tore a strip in a forged £20 note. The punter wasn’t too pleased. Lizzie told him that if he didn‘t like it to report it to a policeman who was standing nearby. With the rip in it, at least he couldn’t pass it off to another bookie.
I think it was Thursday that Lizzie tore a strip in a forged £20 note. The punter wasn’t too pleased. Lizzie told him that if he didn‘t like it to report it to a policeman who was standing nearby. With the rip in it, at least he couldn’t pass it off to another bookie.
Racing got under way and the second favourite Oscar Whisky went at the first obstacle in the first race. Felix Yonger ran out of petrol before the 2nd last, leaving AP to ride the winner, which is never a good result no matter what price the beast was.
Lizzie tore a strip in a forged £20 note. The punter wasn’t too pleased. Lizzie told him that if he didn‘t like it to report it to a policeman who was standing nearby. With the rip in it, at least he couldn’t pass it off to another bookie.
Just as Western Warhorse did us a favour in a tight finish on Tuesday, Fingal Bay did the opposite and got up in the last two strides to deny the 20-1 shot Southfield Theatre by a nose, and cause long payout queues at all joints. From what I saw on the big screen, we were lucky not to be betting on the photo as it looked to me like the 20/1 shot had hung on. You now know why I wear glasses.
Those that were confident with Fingal Bay had already started queuing for their cash. Once the result was confirmed I said to the first couple of punters in the payout line, that was expanding faster than the Universe a split second after the Big Bang ‘Just waiting for the payout list from the computer, it won’t be a few seconds.’ When Michelle came back with it I said ’I asked for a payout list, not a ****ing toilet roll. Send it back.’ Some laughed, some didn’t.
Michelle had backed the second, so she wasn’t over the moon with it either
Lizzie tore a strip in a forged £20 note. The punter wasn’t too pleased. Lizzie told him that if he didn‘t like it to report it to a policeman who was standing nearby. With the rip in it, at least he couldn’t pass it off to another bookie.
Just as Western Warhorse did us a favour in a tight finish on Tuesday, Fingal Bay did the opposite and got up in the last two strides to deny the 20-1 shot Southfield Theatre by a nose, and cause long payout queues at all joints. From what I saw on the big screen, we were lucky not to be betting on the photo as it looked to me like the 20/1 shot had hung on. You now know why I wear glasses.
Those that were confident with Fingal Bay had already started queuing for their cash. Once the result was confirmed I said to the first couple of punters in the payout line, that was expanding faster than the Universe a split second after the Big Bang ‘Just waiting for the payout list from the computer, it won’t be a few seconds.’ When Michelle came back with it I said ’I asked for a payout list, not a ****ing toilet roll. Send it back.’ Some laughed, some didn’t.
Michelle had backed the second, so she wasn’t over the moon with it either
Excellent reading as usual TGM.
Tell ray that i'm Rae's brother. She also works with us and gave him a lift home on several occasions.
I worked a few times that Ray did but on different floors.
I have no photos on this PC as i've had trouble with it. but if you want one i'll try sending it from my phone.
He gave me directions to a Pridmore bookies, see if that jogs his memory.
Tell ray that i'm Rae's brother. She also works with us and gave him a lift home on several occasions.
I worked a few times that Ray did but on different floors.
I have no photos on this PC as i've had trouble with it. but if you want one i'll try sending it from my phone.
He gave me directions to a Pridmore bookies, see if that jogs his memory.
Top writing TGM, I probably know Terry as well as I worked at The Stow in the Laddies shop late 90's and again a little in 2002
Tel, just tried to phone Ray, it's engaged. Linda is probably yakking to somebody. I'll try again in 4 hours...
===========================================================================
Dynaste was extremely well supported in the 3rd, and with Al Ferof losing his place early on, but running on far too late, it was left up to Hidden Cyclone and Rajhdani Express to deny the favourite for the bookies, but errors were in force, and the ‘jolly’ got away at the last to win by over two lengths.
Race 4 forced me to conclude that At Fishers Cross will never win a World Hurdle, while backers of the hot favourite Annie Power were on the phone to Wonga.com after More Than That kept her at bay by over a length at the lollipop. Newbies to horse racing had the 11-8 favourite each way ffs, and we did a small fortune in change again. After the queue died down, up came the big fella with his brother and two mates. He was on the wind up, giving me an each way ticket for Zarkandar (4th).
I gave him my normal ‘David Cameron’ type opening line: ’Let me be absolutely clear about this… One, we don’t pay the fourth horse, two…we don’t pay a quarter of the odds on that race, and three… …..I don’t ****ing like ya.’ Him and his brother roared with laughter, and eventually, his two mates, realising it was all banter, joined in.
Race 5 saw the Scudamore ridden Ballynagour fend off the 5/1 favourite with AP on it by a very welcome gap of more than 6 lengths. Tatenen, the beast 6 lengths back in third place was very well supported each way at 33’s. There seemed to be too much each way cash with us for a horse of those odds. I have an unfounded suspicion that the bookies either side of us were only laying 28/1 The fourth horse was Johns Spirit, well supported each way, but at least Tatenen getting in the frame kept Tizzards charge, Third Intention, out of it, he was fifth.
The last proper race on the card was the Kim Muir, 23 set off but only 12 got home, with a double figure odds winner, and just over 80 lengths between the winner and the last.
The last race was the charity race. I have no idea what won it, but the favourite never does. Which is nice
Rishi Pershad says he spent weeks training for his ride in this race. It wasn’t immediately clear what he had trained as, so perhaps he should try training as a jockey next year.
No signs of police rushing about in front of the bookies at any time during the afternoon, so we assumed fights were at a minimum, or quickly dealt with by the ‘heavy mob’ in the beer tent, out of our sight. Perhaps the Chip Shop Boys kept everybody happy, as anybody nearby must have known the lyrics to all their entire repertoire after less than an hour
By now I had contacted Underdog.co.uk to claim for an industrial injury,my left thumb muscle was the subject of a repetitive strain injury, undoubtedly caused by paying out too much cash.
When Fenway visited us a few years back, he reported on here that I seemed to be standing about doing nothing. If I stood there all day for 4 days doing this, I could ask for double wages, and I'd get it. The less I do, the better it is.
===========================================================================
Dynaste was extremely well supported in the 3rd, and with Al Ferof losing his place early on, but running on far too late, it was left up to Hidden Cyclone and Rajhdani Express to deny the favourite for the bookies, but errors were in force, and the ‘jolly’ got away at the last to win by over two lengths.
Race 4 forced me to conclude that At Fishers Cross will never win a World Hurdle, while backers of the hot favourite Annie Power were on the phone to Wonga.com after More Than That kept her at bay by over a length at the lollipop. Newbies to horse racing had the 11-8 favourite each way ffs, and we did a small fortune in change again. After the queue died down, up came the big fella with his brother and two mates. He was on the wind up, giving me an each way ticket for Zarkandar (4th).
I gave him my normal ‘David Cameron’ type opening line: ’Let me be absolutely clear about this…
One, we don’t pay the fourth horse, two…we don’t pay a quarter of the odds on that race, and three… …..I don’t ****ing like ya.’ Him and his brother roared with laughter, and eventually, his two mates, realising it was all banter, joined in. Race 5 saw the Scudamore ridden Ballynagour fend off the 5/1 favourite with AP on it by a very welcome gap of more than 6 lengths. Tatenen, the beast 6 lengths back in third place was very well supported each way at 33’s. There seemed to be too much each way cash with us for a horse of those odds. I have an unfounded suspicion that the bookies either side of us were only laying 28/1
The fourth horse was Johns Spirit, well supported each way, but at least Tatenen getting in the frame kept Tizzards charge, Third Intention, out of it, he was fifth. The last proper race on the card was the Kim Muir, 23 set off but only 12 got home, with a double figure odds winner, and just over 80 lengths between the winner and the last.
The last race was the charity race. I have no idea what won it, but the favourite never does. Which is nice
Rishi Pershad says he spent weeks training for his ride in this race. It wasn’t immediately clear what he had trained as, so perhaps he should try training as a jockey next year.
No signs of police rushing about in front of the bookies at any time during the afternoon, so we assumed fights were at a minimum, or quickly dealt with by the ‘heavy mob’ in the beer tent, out of our sight. Perhaps the Chip Shop Boys kept everybody happy, as anybody nearby must have known the lyrics to all their entire repertoire after less than an hour
By now I had contacted Underdog.co.uk to claim for an industrial injury,my left thumb muscle was the subject of a repetitive strain injury, undoubtedly caused by paying out too much cash.
When Fenway visited us a few years back, he reported on here that I seemed to be standing about doing nothing. If I stood there all day for 4 days doing this, I could ask for double wages, and I'd get it. The less I do, the better it is.
Ann had arrived by train on Thursday afternoon without getting lost, which I’m led to believe was something of an achievement.
Back at the hotel I had a smoke, followed by a quick cuppa, then did some race tickets up before dinner. Everybody else had to pack their cases on Thursday night, so it was off to their rooms early-ish for most. I checked my engine, oil, water etc, as I was also off to the course on Friday in my car, and into the car park almost next door to the Best Mate entrance. hoping not to get stuck in the mud like I did last year. A tenner well spent, you get out quicker then trying to get out of the course members car park, and there are no police outside the gates telling you to turn left when you want to go right.
Up and about at 6-30 a.m. I called Wee Richie at 7-45, 7-55, 8-00, and 8-05...it was 4th time lucky.
Cold and foggy again. I was the first one to leave the hotel and onto the A46. Just as I passed the Worcestershire border sign, I saw a black saloon car upside down in a ditch at the side of the road. It had been there a while as it had the blue and white ’POLICE AWARE’ tape round it. Not sure if it was a BMW or a Mercedes, but it was well battered down one side. Serves the driver right for going too fast in fog, the idiot.
A trouble free run to Cheltenham saw me in the car park by 9-25 a.m. and I was the 3rd car to go in.
If anybody wants to use this car park you need to get there early on Friday as it can fill up pretty quickly. As you go past the Best Mate entrance there’s a brown panel fence on the left with a path next to it, ignore that and go to the next one, drive between the two concrete pillars about 7 feet high and follow the gravel path. A bloke in a high-vis jacket will take your tenner and point you in the right direction, just follow the path until another bloke in a high-vis jacket tells you where to park. After you’ve parked, don’t walk back to the main road. Its quicker to walk towards the pub and through the arch under the building, follow the path past the marquee, through the gap in the hedgerow and turn left, then walk along by the fence to get to the Best Mate enclosure gates.
Back at the hotel I had a smoke, followed by a quick cuppa, then did some race tickets up before dinner. Everybody else had to pack their cases on Thursday night, so it was off to their rooms early-ish for most. I checked my engine, oil, water etc, as I was also off to the course on Friday in my car, and into the car park almost next door to the Best Mate entrance. hoping not to get stuck in the mud like I did last year. A tenner well spent, you get out quicker then trying to get out of the course members car park, and there are no police outside the gates telling you to turn left when you want to go right.
Up and about at 6-30 a.m. I called Wee Richie at 7-45, 7-55, 8-00, and 8-05...it was 4th time lucky.
Cold and foggy again. I was the first one to leave the hotel and onto the A46. Just as I passed the Worcestershire border sign, I saw a black saloon car upside down in a ditch at the side of the road. It had been there a while as it had the blue and white ’POLICE AWARE’ tape round it. Not sure if it was a BMW or a Mercedes, but it was well battered down one side. Serves the driver right for going too fast in fog, the idiot.
A trouble free run to Cheltenham saw me in the car park by 9-25 a.m. and I was the 3rd car to go in.
If anybody wants to use this car park you need to get there early on Friday as it can fill up pretty quickly. As you go past the Best Mate entrance there’s a brown panel fence on the left with a path next to it, ignore that and go to the next one, drive between the two concrete pillars about 7 feet high and follow the gravel path. A bloke in a high-vis jacket will take your tenner and point you in the right direction, just follow the path until another bloke in a high-vis jacket tells you where to park. After you’ve parked, don’t walk back to the main road. Its quicker to walk towards the pub and through the arch under the building, follow the path past the marquee, through the gap in the hedgerow and turn left, then walk along by the fence to get to the Best Mate enclosure gates.
I was too early for Josey and company so I had a slow walk to the gates, then turned left towards the Vets car park. I chatted to a few guards who were directing traffic. I had a pre-paid public parking ticket that you have to hang on your rear view mirror, but as I don’t lock my doors, if somebody got in and nicked it, I could get clamped. That was why I opted for the car park in the pub. I gave the ticket to a security guard, who would hopefully give it to the first car to come in that didn’t have a prepaid parking ticket.
I was chatting to a guard when I heard a clattering noise behind me. I turned round and saw that ‘posh’ Darren, who seemed a tad the worse for wear had reversed into a parking barrier in the Vets car park. In best BBC English I said ’Good morning Darren.’ he smiled and said ‘Morning John.’ I never spoke to him again, but it’s said by quite a few people that he NEVER forgets anything you tell him.
This theory will be tested by asking about the car park barrier, if I get there next year.
I was chatting to a guard when I heard a clattering noise behind me. I turned round and saw that ‘posh’ Darren, who seemed a tad the worse for wear
had reversed into a parking barrier in the Vets car park. In best BBC English I said ’Good morning Darren.’ he smiled and said ‘Morning John.’ I never spoke to him again, but it’s said by quite a few people that he NEVER forgets anything you tell him. This theory will be tested by asking about the car park barrier, if I get there next year.
A QUIET ST. PATRICKS DAY?
Joint set up, all things not needed stacked away, and all set to go by 10-45 a.m. I had a wander (as you do) and spoke to the security guard nearest to us.
’Looked quiet yesterday‘ I said.
‘You must be joking mate.’ he said ‘a man aged about 60 got hit in the mouth and had his teeth knocked out upstairs in the Desert Orchid bar. He was in a right state, they had to bring him out in a wheelchair.’
Then he said that there was a 2 man fight in the khazi at half past five. Christ knows what you can find to fight about after the last race while having a pi$$, but there you are.
Just in case you thought the beer tent punters had been behaving, they hadn’t. There was a 10 man brawl in there at some stage of the afternoon., but as the police enter from the gap between the catering tent and the first catering van, about 25 yards to our left, we never saw them go in.
Joint set up, all things not needed stacked away, and all set to go by 10-45 a.m. I had a wander (as you do) and spoke to the security guard nearest to us.
’Looked quiet yesterday‘ I said.
‘You must be joking mate.’ he said ‘a man aged about 60 got hit in the mouth and had his teeth knocked out upstairs in the Desert Orchid bar. He was in a right state, they had to bring him out in a wheelchair.’
Then he said that there was a 2 man fight in the khazi at half past five. Christ knows what you can find to fight about after the last race while having a pi$$, but there you are.
Just in case you thought the beer tent punters had been behaving, they hadn’t. There was a 10 man brawl in there at some stage of the afternoon., but as the police enter from the gap between the catering tent and the first catering van, about 25 yards to our left, we never saw them go in.
GORGEOUS GEORGE AND THE 'MISSING MILLIONS'
At about 11-20, Lizzie spoke to Josey, and promptly vanished. She had been sitting in the betting shop filling out our expenses forms to get them sorted before racing started. Arthur came in and asked her to do him a favour.
‘Can it wait until I finish these forms?’ Lizzie asked, but it couldn’t.
I suppose when you’re carrying a large amount of banknotes you have to think of the safest place to keep it in your room while you sleep, and Arthur decided to keep it under his pillow.
Up bright and early as usual, once the car was loaded, Arthur, Katie and Richie checked out of the hotel and set off for Cheltenham. Arrived at the course, parked up, got all the gear in, and set up the joint. The last thing he did, at roughly 11-15 was to pat his coat pockets to make sure he had his money, but it wasn’t there.
He had left a five figure sum under his pillow, and checking out time was noon.
If one of the many eastern European staff was working illegally and got the job of cleaning Arthur’s room at midday, they were soon set to vanish, untraceable, with his cash.
The hotel was contacted a.s.a.p, and Lizzie set off in her 4x4 in ’blue light’ fashion for Warwick. Being a trained police driver, our Lizzie doesn’t hang about at the best of times. We’re often passed by her when we’re on the road while doing the obligatory 77 m.p.h. so it’s anybodys guess how fast she was going in this case.
No news came to Joseys phone, but Lizzie got back just after the first race, and all was well. The management had retrieved the money and put it in the safe until Lizzie got there.
At about 11-20, Lizzie spoke to Josey, and promptly vanished. She had been sitting in the betting shop filling out our expenses forms to get them sorted before racing started. Arthur came in and asked her to do him a favour.
‘Can it wait until I finish these forms?’ Lizzie asked, but it couldn’t.
I suppose when you’re carrying a large amount of banknotes you have to think of the safest place to keep it in your room while you sleep, and Arthur decided to keep it under his pillow.
Up bright and early as usual, once the car was loaded, Arthur, Katie and Richie checked out of the hotel and set off for Cheltenham. Arrived at the course, parked up, got all the gear in, and set up the joint. The last thing he did, at roughly 11-15 was to pat his coat pockets to make sure he had his money, but it wasn’t there.
He had left a five figure sum under his pillow, and checking out time was noon.
If one of the many eastern European staff was working illegally and got the job of cleaning Arthur’s room at midday, they were soon set to vanish, untraceable, with his cash.
The hotel was contacted a.s.a.p, and Lizzie set off in her 4x4 in ’blue light’ fashion for Warwick. Being a trained police driver, our Lizzie doesn’t hang about at the best of times. We’re often passed by her when we’re on the road while doing the obligatory 77 m.p.h. so it’s anybodys guess how fast she was going in this case.
No news came to Joseys phone, but Lizzie got back just after the first race, and all was well. The management had retrieved the money and put it in the safe until Lizzie got there.
Been reading it every day.
The last race was the charity race. I have no idea what won it, but the favourite never does. Which is nice
Made me smile.
The last race was the charity race. I have no idea what won it, but the favourite never does. Which is nice
Made me smile.
Ann was with me on the payout, leaving Lizzie, Julie, Michelle and Josey on the joint taking bets. I have no idea if it was a record crowd, but the area we are in was like a sardine can, as it always is on Gold Cup day.
If you can’t have a bit of banter, life ain’t fun.
An elderly ‘posh’ lady and her daughter came up to draw their money on the 2nd race, which was for a fiver each way on the winner.
‘Well done darlin’ I said.
Michelle heard me, turned her head and said ‘Speak to the lady nicely.’ So I gave her the ticket back and said ‘Pardon me luv. Shall we begin again?‘
She looked bemused, as you’d expect, but her daughter laughed as I took the ticket and said in my best BBC tones ‘Absolutely spiffing ma’am. One hopes you’re enjoying yourself?’
She smiled and said ‘Immensely, this is the first time I’ve ever been racing, isn’t it lovely?’
‘Indeed it is,‘ I said ‘and one hopes you back the next winner as well. Bye-bye for now.‘
Just behind her in the queue was the Big Fella, who had backed the second. He was laughing at me joshing the posh lady, so I said ‘She’s gone, back to normal, what the f*** do you want?‘ which started him laughing again.
He had backed the second for a tenner each way, and had £27-50 to come.
‘A pony for cash‘ I said smiling.
‘Nope’ he said
I gave him a score and a fiver, and as I gave him the shrapnel I said ‘Thank you sir…...you tight bastard.’
After the first 2 races when booze had flowed merrily, there must have been at least 12 cases of people being in the wrong payout queue.
If you can’t have a bit of banter, life ain’t fun.
An elderly ‘posh’ lady and her daughter came up to draw their money on the 2nd race, which was for a fiver each way on the winner.
‘Well done darlin’ I said.
Michelle heard me, turned her head and said ‘Speak to the lady nicely.’ So I gave her the ticket back and said ‘Pardon me luv. Shall we begin again?‘
She looked bemused, as you’d expect, but her daughter laughed as I took the ticket and said in my best BBC tones ‘Absolutely spiffing ma’am. One hopes you’re enjoying yourself?’
She smiled and said ‘Immensely, this is the first time I’ve ever been racing, isn’t it lovely?’
‘Indeed it is,‘ I said ‘and one hopes you back the next winner as well. Bye-bye for now.‘
Just behind her in the queue was the Big Fella, who had backed the second. He was laughing at me joshing the posh lady, so I said ‘She’s gone, back to normal, what the f*** do you want?‘
which started him laughing again. He had backed the second for a tenner each way, and had £27-50 to come.
‘A pony for cash‘ I said smiling.
‘Nope’ he said
I gave him a score and a fiver, and as I gave him the shrapnel I said ‘Thank you sir…...you tight bastard.’
After the first 2 races when booze had flowed merrily, there must have been at least 12 cases of people being in the wrong payout queue.
I agree with orsoncart...
‘Posh lady’ and daughter were back again after race 3, which was a winner at ‘dirty knees’!! Under close scrutiny she got my best BBC accent again,and she was definitely enjoying herself.
She was back again for the Gold Cup payout, but wasn’t over the moon that her horse finished second. She made up for that by backing Don Poli in the Martin Weasel Pipe Hurdle, which won at 12s. I have no doubt she will return next year for another day of ‘jolly good fun’ and with the prices like she picks, she’s more than welcome to back winners.
I’m not a fan of M. Pipe, he’s referred to as The Weasel (and worse) in our house.
The whole day saw ‘bookmaker friendly’ results, but loads of people still backed winners. As previously stated, at this meeting you lay every horse in every race. And when there is a shock winner at 100/1, which will no doubt happen again sometime, there will still be people queuing up to get their cash…Gawd bless’em
After the last race a youngish man was on his mobile phone as he came to the payout, busy telling his girlfriend that he had won £400 backing a horse with her name. In his other hand was a pint of lager.
‘What are you gonna put down?’ I asked ‘your beer or your phone?’
Youngsters ffs!! He put the beer down.
Ain’t love grand
’You’re new at this encha mate?’ I laughed
He laughed, ’Only the second time I’ve been racing,’ he said
I said ‘She’d be happy if you won a bullseye son, she’ll still luv ya, declaring yer full win is gonna cost ya, mark my words. There won’t be enough left for a pint with yer mates by the time you’ve been dragged out‘shopping‘
He wandered off, pint in hand, happy.
Racing ended and it was to pack everything away. interrupted by brief chats with regulars who were on their way home, and said they would see us next year. And they do. Even one of the security guards came over, shook my hand and said ‘Pleasure to meet you mate, see you next year.’
I don’t hear that very often
I had bags of coins open that I was counting into. I came to a £1 coin bag, and I had already put £13 in it, as I was getting another £7 to finish it off, Ann put in a handful of coins.
‘How much was that?’ I asked
‘Sorry, no idea’ she said ‘I leave all the counting to Josey.’
Lizzie, of ‘Lizziebags’ fame, was standing nearby, and laughed loudly. She had already mixed up some coins earlier, which amused her. I had to pretend to be annoyed to make it worth her while.
‘Posh lady’ and daughter were back again after race 3, which was a winner at ‘dirty knees’!! Under close scrutiny she got my best BBC accent again,and she was definitely enjoying herself.
She was back again for the Gold Cup payout, but wasn’t over the moon that her horse finished second. She made up for that by backing Don Poli in the Martin Weasel Pipe Hurdle, which won at 12s. I have no doubt she will return next year for another day of ‘jolly good fun’ and with the prices like she picks, she’s more than welcome to back winners.
I’m not a fan of M. Pipe, he’s referred to as The Weasel (and worse) in our house.
The whole day saw ‘bookmaker friendly’ results, but loads of people still backed winners. As previously stated, at this meeting you lay every horse in every race. And when there is a shock winner at 100/1, which will no doubt happen again sometime, there will still be people queuing up to get their cash…Gawd bless’em
After the last race a youngish man was on his mobile phone as he came to the payout, busy telling his girlfriend that he had won £400 backing a horse with her name. In his other hand was a pint of lager.
‘What are you gonna put down?’ I asked ‘your beer or your phone?’
Youngsters ffs!! He put the beer down.
Ain’t love grand
’You’re new at this encha mate?’ I laughed
He laughed, ’Only the second time I’ve been racing,’ he said
I said ‘She’d be happy if you won a bullseye son, she’ll still luv ya, declaring yer full win is gonna cost ya, mark my words. There won’t be enough left for a pint with yer mates by the time you’ve been dragged out‘shopping‘
He wandered off, pint in hand, happy.
Racing ended and it was to pack everything away. interrupted by brief chats with regulars who were on their way home, and said they would see us next year. And they do. Even one of the security guards came over, shook my hand and said ‘Pleasure to meet you mate, see you next year.’
I don’t hear that very often
I had bags of coins open that I was counting into. I came to a £1 coin bag, and I had already put £13 in it, as I was getting another £7 to finish it off, Ann put in a handful of coins.
‘How much was that?’ I asked
‘Sorry, no idea’ she said ‘I leave all the counting to Josey.’
Lizzie, of ‘Lizziebags’ fame, was standing nearby, and laughed loudly. She had already mixed up some coins earlier, which amused her. I had to pretend to be annoyed to make it worth her while.
The whole joint was taken apart, the base is turned upside down and has wheels attached, and becomes a flat barrow, and loads of stuff gets loaded on top.
Last year Joey was surprised to learn what the ratchet straps were for, that had been in the old suitcase.
This year when I asked for them, he had no idea where they were.
This means they were chucked away in an extremely rare moment of ‘tidying up’. His memory had gone. I’d bet he looked at them thought ’F*** knows what they’re for, I’ll put them in the dustbin.’
It’s hard work pulling that barrow along through the exiting crowd, and up the slope to the car park.
It needed brawn, not brain, so I left it to Julie
Back at the car Josey said ‘This could be a tight fit.’ as Ann had to get in the car as well.
I said ‘That’s no problem, just roof rack Julie.’
But she only heard the last bit, and thought I said ’Fat Julie.’
Last year Joey was surprised to learn what the ratchet straps were for, that had been in the old suitcase.
This year when I asked for them, he had no idea where they were.
This means they were chucked away in an extremely rare moment of ‘tidying up’. His memory had gone. I’d bet he looked at them thought ’F*** knows what they’re for, I’ll put them in the dustbin.’
It’s hard work pulling that barrow along through the exiting crowd, and up the slope to the car park.
It needed brawn, not brain, so I left it to Julie
Back at the car Josey said ‘This could be a tight fit.’ as Ann had to get in the car as well.
I said ‘That’s no problem, just roof rack Julie.’
But she only heard the last bit, and thought I said ’Fat Julie.’
Remembered this as I was typing earlier:
As it was cold every day, Julie said that if the Sun came out she would come to work in a mini-skirt.
I said that if she did, I would wear pink Speedos
The Sun did us, and the crowd, a huge favour, and stayed in.
Early morning chat led to my younger days, and Julie couldn’t imagine me with long hair, or with a 32 inch waist. I told her that my dad used to drag me to the barbers every other Tuesday for a short back and sides when I was at school, while other boys were sporting Beatles fringes and Rolling Stones type hairstyles.
When I got out of school for good, I rebelled. That was July 1967. The school uniform was binned the same day. I wore denim shirts and jeans, had black hair right down my back, and by 1972 I was a fully paid up member of the Quo Army.
Much to my dear old dads disgust, I never had my haircut until sometime around 1975. I had another haircut for his funeral in December 1977.
When I grew my hair again, at least dad wasn’t here to see my mid-1980s ponytail. I used to look a bit like Sly Stallone back then, and obviously got nicknamed Rocky,and less often, Rambo.
I used to let my hair hang loose at dart matches. George, one of my darts team, came up to me when I was waiting to throw in a match (having already missed double 16) and tied a ribbon in my hair. ’Perhaps you’ll see the double now.’he laughed.
And when stood on the oche for my favourite double, the 8, there were cheers of ‘Go on Rainbow.’
RAINBOW?!?!?!?!
WTF!!
I couldn’t see the ribbon could I, ffs. I thought it was black, but it was bright f***ing pink!!
At dart matches, the ‘Rocky’ and ‘Rambo’ nicknames got dropped, and I was now known as ‘Rainbow‘
Callers didn’t help either ‘Rainbow requires 10’ which gave way to calls of ’ooooh…who’s a big boy…’
As it was cold every day, Julie said that if the Sun came out she would come to work in a mini-skirt.
I said that if she did, I would wear pink Speedos
The Sun did us, and the crowd, a huge favour, and stayed in.
Early morning chat led to my younger days, and Julie couldn’t imagine me with long hair, or with a 32 inch waist. I told her that my dad used to drag me to the barbers every other Tuesday for a short back and sides when I was at school, while other boys were sporting Beatles fringes and Rolling Stones type hairstyles.
When I got out of school for good, I rebelled. That was July 1967. The school uniform was binned the same day. I wore denim shirts and jeans, had black hair right down my back, and by 1972 I was a fully paid up member of the Quo Army.
Much to my dear old dads disgust, I never had my haircut until sometime around 1975. I had another haircut for his funeral in December 1977.
When I grew my hair again, at least dad wasn’t here to see my mid-1980s ponytail.
I used to look a bit like Sly Stallone back then, and obviously got nicknamed Rocky,and less often, Rambo. I used to let my hair hang loose at dart matches. George, one of my darts team, came up to me when I was waiting to throw in a match (having already missed double 16) and tied a ribbon in my hair. ’Perhaps you’ll see the double now.’he laughed.
And when stood on the oche for my favourite double, the 8, there were cheers of ‘Go on Rainbow.’
RAINBOW?!?!?!?!
WTF!!
I couldn’t see the ribbon could I, ffs. I thought it was black, but it was bright f***ing pink!!
At dart matches, the ‘Rocky’ and ‘Rambo’ nicknames got dropped, and I was now known as ‘Rainbow‘
Callers didn’t help either ‘Rainbow requires 10’ which gave way to calls of ’ooooh…who’s a big boy…’
I went for a job in a brand new warehouse in Silvertown, and drove past for a butchers before the interview. It looked smart, neat, and the yard was tidy. I went to Suicide Sids in Plaistow and had my hair cut. When I got back for the interview, the first person I saw was a lorry driver who had hair longer than I had in the 70s!!
After consultation with wife and daughters, it was voted 2-1 to keep it short. Eldest daughter didn’t like it, youngest daughter thought I was ’cool’, she-who-must-be-obeyed got the final vote.
But I digress, back to Cheltenham.
After consultation with wife and daughters, it was voted 2-1 to keep it short. Eldest daughter didn’t like it, youngest daughter thought I was ’cool’, she-who-must-be-obeyed got the final vote.
But I digress, back to Cheltenham.
Joseys car got loaded, there were farewell hugs with Ann, Katie and Julie.Arthur grunted and waved, Josey shook my hand. (I did count my fingers afterwards)
Me and Lizzie set off for the pub car park, and part of the route is through the coach park, where good looking young ladies that pass by get treated to banging on the windows and shouting by drunken race-goers.
Lizzie was holding my arm, which sometimes makes the banging and shouting lessen to a certain degree. There were no doubt stares of bemusement and thoughts of ‘How did that ugly old bastard pull her?’
It was quite simple really. Lizzie was wearing some sort of fashionable shoes with paper thin soles, and had trouble walking and balancing on the broken rocks that constitute a path. The easiest solution was to hang on to me.
As we walked past it, Lizzie told me that she would love to have a have a party in the pub Marquee one day, and invite all her friends.
At £65 a head, I’m glad I don’t have that many friends.
Me and Lizzie set off for the pub car park, and part of the route is through the coach park, where good looking young ladies that pass by get treated to banging on the windows and shouting by drunken race-goers.
Lizzie was holding my arm, which sometimes makes the banging and shouting lessen to a certain degree. There were no doubt stares of bemusement and thoughts of ‘How did that ugly old bastard pull her?’
It was quite simple really. Lizzie was wearing some sort of fashionable shoes with paper thin soles, and had trouble walking and balancing on the broken rocks that constitute a path. The easiest solution was to hang on to me.
As we walked past it, Lizzie told me that she would love to have a have a party in the pub Marquee one day, and invite all her friends.
At £65 a head, I’m glad I don’t have that many friends.
We said goodbye and she went off to her car. I was faced with an hour drive back to Warwick, so I decided to 'water the hedgerow' first, while my engine warmed up.
Out of the field and onto the exit path, I got to the main road, but the traffic going right was at a standstill, so I sat and waited. About two minutes later I saw headlights in my rear view mirror. A 4x4 pulled up behind me. All of 35 seconds had passed when the female driver got out and walked to my car.
This is the logic of women: ‘If you want to turn right, it’s quicker to turn left, and go to the roundabout, because I’ve been waiting ages.’
I said ‘It’s not quicker to turn left, I’d obviously be sitting 50 vehicles further back than where I am now, and you haven’t been waiting ages, you’ve been here about 30 seconds.’
She said ’Could you pull forward then, so we can get out?’
I said ’No I can’t. If I pull out and my bumper almost touches the bus opposite, there’s still not enough room for you to get out behind me, and I end up bringing the right to left lane to a standstill. That means the next roundabout to the right gets blocked, and nobody moves. I‘ll move when the traffic moves.’ and then closed my window.
Less than a minute later I saw her husband get out in my mirror. I undid my window, and awaited his pearl of wisdom. ‘Why can’t you pull forward, this is getting on my nerves.’
I repeated what I told his wife, and ended with ’AND I AM NOT TURNING LEFT.’
He started arguing. I have to say that my drivers seat is a lower than it normally is, be and I look pretty small in it. He carried on ranting ‘Give me one good reason why you can’t pull forward.‘
I said ‘You’re getting on my nerves now. If I have to get out of this car, you’ll see 76 good reasons to pi$$ off, and each one is an inch tall.’
It took a good 10 seconds to sink in but he went back to his car.
The bus driver must have felt sorry for me When the traffic inched forward, he let me out. I thanked him, moved forward, and put my bumper in the gap in front of him. But I didn’t pull right up the car in front, just to let the idiots behind stew a bit longer. When the car moved forward they all started shouting ’PULL OUT’
I did so very slowly and even the bus driver was smiling now.
Soon on the M5 and back to Warwick via the motorways, as I didn’t fancy the A46 at night.
Out of the field and onto the exit path, I got to the main road, but the traffic going right was at a standstill, so I sat and waited. About two minutes later I saw headlights in my rear view mirror. A 4x4 pulled up behind me. All of 35 seconds had passed when the female driver got out and walked to my car.
This is the logic of women: ‘If you want to turn right, it’s quicker to turn left, and go to the roundabout, because I’ve been waiting ages.’
I said ‘It’s not quicker to turn left, I’d obviously be sitting 50 vehicles further back than where I am now, and you haven’t been waiting ages, you’ve been here about 30 seconds.’
She said ’Could you pull forward then, so we can get out?’
I said ’No I can’t. If I pull out and my bumper almost touches the bus opposite, there’s still not enough room for you to get out behind me, and I end up bringing the right to left lane to a standstill. That means the next roundabout to the right gets blocked, and nobody moves. I‘ll move when the traffic moves.’ and then closed my window.
Less than a minute later I saw her husband get out in my mirror. I undid my window, and awaited his pearl of wisdom. ‘Why can’t you pull forward, this is getting on my nerves.’
I repeated what I told his wife, and ended with ’AND I AM NOT TURNING LEFT.’
He started arguing. I have to say that my drivers seat is a lower than it normally is, be and I look pretty small in it. He carried on ranting ‘Give me one good reason why you can’t pull forward.‘
I said ‘You’re getting on my nerves now. If I have to get out of this car, you’ll see 76 good reasons to pi$$ off, and each one is an inch tall.’
It took a good 10 seconds to sink in but he went back to his car.
The bus driver must have felt sorry for me
When the traffic inched forward, he let me out. I thanked him, moved forward, and put my bumper in the gap in front of him. But I didn’t pull right up the car in front, just to let the idiots behind stew a bit longer. When the car moved forward they all started shouting ’PULL OUT’ I did so very slowly
and even the bus driver was smiling now. Soon on the M5 and back to Warwick via the motorways, as I didn’t fancy the A46 at night.
It ain’t over 'til the fat lady sings.
With a bit of speeding I was back at the hotel by 7-50 p.m. I wasn’t going to the restaurant, as everybody else had gone home. Friday night dinner isn’t on expenses, and I’m saving up to be Jewish :) I had a Sainsbury’s chicken and bacon salad sandwich, and two Mars bars. All I needed was a cuppa, and I was sorted.
All I had to was get into my room, and relax.
Going through the lobby there was a woman I hadn’t seen before at the reception desk. I nodded and said ‘Hello’ as I passed. I got out my swipe card key, that had been working perfectly well all week, and stuck it in the slot, but the doors to the lift didn’t open. I went for the stairs as my room was on the first floor. Same again, the card wouldn’t open the stair doors.
I walked back to reception, told the woman my card had packed up and asked her to re-swipe it. She asked my name and room number. She tapped a few keys on her keyboard, and then said ‘That room is empty, give me your name again.’
So I did.
After further key tapping she said ’You’re in room 425.’
I said ‘I can assure you I’m not love, this was all sorted out on Monday. We had 3 rooms for 4 nights, with my room, the 4th one, booked for 5 nights, vacating on Saturday morning.
‘Who did this for you?’ she asked
‘I don’t know her name’ I said ‘she’s a young lady, pretty, with blonde hair.’
She said ’Oh, that’s xxxxxx’ (I still can’t remember it)
‘It definitely says you’re in room 425.’ she insisted.
‘In that case, where are my clothes and my stuff’ I asked ‘has somebody taken them to 425?’
‘Let’s go and see.’ she said
Off we went, she opened my room, it had been cleaned but my clothes and stuff were still there.
Further proof of the female approach to logic coming now…
‘Do you need a hand to get your clothes to 425, I can arrange that.’ she asked.
I said ‘Just a thought, if my room is vacant, and 425 is my new room, can’t you tap a few keys and make 425 vacant, and leave me where I am?’
‘I suppose I could do that, couldn’t I…‘ she said, as if I had solved the answer to the beginnings of the Universe and the Big Bang.
She tapped the necessary keys and the room swap was done. She then put my swipe card in her machine and stopped for a few seconds.
She had forgotten my room number already
I said nothing and waited.
Suddenly she said ’Ah yes’ and tapped it in.
’There you are sir, have a good night.’ and gave me the card.
With a bit of speeding I was back at the hotel by 7-50 p.m. I wasn’t going to the restaurant, as everybody else had gone home. Friday night dinner isn’t on expenses, and I’m saving up to be Jewish :) I had a Sainsbury’s chicken and bacon salad sandwich, and two Mars bars. All I needed was a cuppa, and I was sorted.
All I had to was get into my room, and relax.
Going through the lobby there was a woman I hadn’t seen before at the reception desk. I nodded and said ‘Hello’ as I passed. I got out my swipe card key, that had been working perfectly well all week, and stuck it in the slot, but the doors to the lift didn’t open. I went for the stairs as my room was on the first floor. Same again, the card wouldn’t open the stair doors.
I walked back to reception, told the woman my card had packed up and asked her to re-swipe it. She asked my name and room number. She tapped a few keys on her keyboard, and then said ‘That room is empty, give me your name again.’
So I did.
After further key tapping she said ’You’re in room 425.’
I said ‘I can assure you I’m not love, this was all sorted out on Monday. We had 3 rooms for 4 nights, with my room, the 4th one, booked for 5 nights, vacating on Saturday morning.
‘Who did this for you?’ she asked
‘I don’t know her name’ I said ‘she’s a young lady, pretty, with blonde hair.’
She said ’Oh, that’s xxxxxx’ (I still can’t remember it)
‘It definitely says you’re in room 425.’ she insisted.
‘In that case, where are my clothes and my stuff’ I asked ‘has somebody taken them to 425?’
‘Let’s go and see.’ she said
Off we went, she opened my room, it had been cleaned but my clothes and stuff were still there.
Further proof of the female approach to logic coming now…
‘Do you need a hand to get your clothes to 425, I can arrange that.’ she asked.
I said ‘Just a thought, if my room is vacant, and 425 is my new room, can’t you tap a few keys and make 425 vacant, and leave me where I am?’
‘I suppose I could do that, couldn’t I…‘ she said, as if I had solved the answer to the beginnings of the Universe and the Big Bang.
She tapped the necessary keys and the room swap was done. She then put my swipe card in her machine and stopped for a few seconds.
She had forgotten my room number already
I said nothing and waited.
Suddenly she said ’Ah yes’ and tapped it in.
’There you are sir, have a good night.’ and gave me the card.
An hour later I had washed off the smell of filthy money devoured the sandwich and the Mars bars, had two cuppas, and headed downstairs for a smoke.
WHY DO THESE THINGS HAPPEN TO ME
It was pretty cold outside by now, and the nightly fog had descended. I stuck a cigar in my gob then started to pat my pockets, but to no avail, I had left my lighter upstairs.
I scanned the four smokers who were outside like ‘The Predator’ in the movies, picking my victim carefully, I didn’t want to chat, I just wanted to smoke and needed a light.
Potential victim 1 - she was stood by the ashtray that was built into the wall about 12 feet from the entrance doors. Thin, about 45, hair in a bun, wearing glasses and some awful print dress by Laura Ashley that resembled mid-1970s caravan curtains. She was timid looking and looked like she’d scream if a man got to within six feet of her.
I passed her over and scanned potential victim 2 - Smartly dressed, ciggie in his left hand, he was sideways on to me, by the flower bed with one foot up on a rock, looking casual. I went to move and he turned slightly, I saw that he had a phone in his right hand and he was talking to somebody.
I passed him over for potential victim 3 - Seated at a table, he was puffing on a pipe. As I approached him he sat upright, lit up his Kindle thingy, and started reading, the anti-social bespectacled bearded hippy bastard!!
It was number 4 who became the victim now. He had his back to me.
I’d guess him to be about 25, about 5 feet 6, tubby (hark at me being politically correct...tubby ffs,…he was fat) wearing a blue t-shirt and beige shorts (in this weather!!) and had a pint of lager on the table beside him. I should have checked for Jesus sandals before moving in.
I tapped him on the shoulder ’Got a light please mate?’
He turned round to face me, and said ’I don’t smoke.’
My immediate thought was ‘What the f*** are you doing out in the freezing cold supping lager in a t-shirt and shorts you f***ing moron.‘
What I actually said was ‘No problem.’
Kindle reading bloke got up and went in, without offering me a light. Mobile phone man turned his back to me, still yakking on the dog. Laura Ashley lady must had sneaked back in under camouflage of the trees and flowers
My car was the first car in the car park, so I opened the boot, stuck the battery leads on and got a light from the car lighter.
In this minimal amount of time, t-shirt and shorts moron had decided to invent a new game which was called ‘Stating the bleedin’ obvious.’
‘That’s your car then?’ he said.
I nodded.
‘Fast?’ he said.
‘Me or the car?’ I asked
The car.’ he said, in what seemed all seriousness.
‘Pretty fast, if you can afford to hit the pedal hard, fuels not cheap these days’ I said.
‘Likes petrol does it?’ he said.
‘Not much choice really is there?’ I replied
‘What the fastest you’ve done in it?’ he asked.
‘Well over 100’ I said
‘I had a car that fast once.’ he said
I was going to say that all cars go over 100 but I couldn’t be arsed.
‘Really?’ I said, taking longer puffs on my cigar in order to go back in soon.
‘Yeh’ he said, but not bothering to tell me what make or model it was.
Somebody tapped on a window and he went inside.
devoured the sandwich and the Mars bars, had two cuppas, and headed downstairs for a smoke. WHY DO THESE THINGS HAPPEN TO ME
It was pretty cold outside by now, and the nightly fog had descended. I stuck a cigar in my gob then started to pat my pockets, but to no avail, I had left my lighter upstairs.
I scanned the four smokers who were outside like ‘The Predator’ in the movies, picking my victim carefully, I didn’t want to chat, I just wanted to smoke and needed a light.
Potential victim 1 - she was stood by the ashtray that was built into the wall about 12 feet from the entrance doors. Thin, about 45, hair in a bun, wearing glasses and some awful print dress by Laura Ashley that resembled mid-1970s caravan curtains. She was timid looking and looked like she’d scream if a man got to within six feet of her.
I passed her over and scanned potential victim 2 - Smartly dressed, ciggie in his left hand, he was sideways on to me, by the flower bed with one foot up on a rock, looking casual. I went to move and he turned slightly, I saw that he had a phone in his right hand and he was talking to somebody.
I passed him over for potential victim 3 - Seated at a table, he was puffing on a pipe. As I approached him he sat upright, lit up his Kindle thingy, and started reading, the anti-social bespectacled bearded hippy bastard!!
It was number 4 who became the victim now. He had his back to me.
I’d guess him to be about 25, about 5 feet 6, tubby (hark at me being politically correct...tubby ffs,…he was fat) wearing a blue t-shirt and beige shorts (in this weather!!) and had a pint of lager on the table beside him. I should have checked for Jesus sandals before moving in.
I tapped him on the shoulder ’Got a light please mate?’
He turned round to face me, and said ’I don’t smoke.’
My immediate thought was ‘What the f*** are you doing out in the freezing cold supping lager in a t-shirt and shorts you f***ing moron.‘
What I actually said was ‘No problem.’
Kindle reading bloke got up and went in, without offering me a light. Mobile phone man turned his back to me, still yakking on the dog. Laura Ashley lady must had sneaked back in under camouflage of the trees and flowers
My car was the first car in the car park, so I opened the boot, stuck the battery leads on and got a light from the car lighter.
In this minimal amount of time, t-shirt and shorts moron had decided to invent a new game which was called ‘Stating the bleedin’ obvious.’
‘That’s your car then?’ he said.
I nodded.
‘Fast?’ he said.
‘Me or the car?’ I asked
The car.’ he said, in what seemed all seriousness.
‘Pretty fast, if you can afford to hit the pedal hard, fuels not cheap these days’ I said.
‘Likes petrol does it?’ he said.
‘Not much choice really is there?’ I replied
‘What the fastest you’ve done in it?’ he asked.
‘Well over 100’ I said
‘I had a car that fast once.’ he said
I was going to say that all cars go over 100 but I couldn’t be arsed.
‘Really?’ I said, taking longer puffs on my cigar in order to go back in soon.
‘Yeh’ he said, but not bothering to tell me what make or model it was.
Somebody tapped on a window and he went inside.
I was on the last bit of my cigar when a young bloke came out for a smoke, he was dressed in black, blue and white racing leathers.
‘Not seen a bike in here, where do you park it?’ I asked
‘I haven’t got a bike.’ he said, and lit up a cigarette.
I stubbed my cigar out, threw it in the bin and went inside.
It must be something they put in the water up here.
T-shirt and shorts, drinking cold lager out in the freezing cold, but doesn’t smoke, and the other one dressed in motor bike leathers, but doesn’t own a bike. The worrying part is that these two were probably on expenses, which means that somebody has actually employed them.
A quick flick through the news, lights off, and I was soon knocking out zeds.
‘Not seen a bike in here, where do you park it?’ I asked
‘I haven’t got a bike.’ he said, and lit up a cigarette.
I stubbed my cigar out, threw it in the bin and went inside.
It must be something they put in the water up here.
T-shirt and shorts, drinking cold lager out in the freezing cold, but doesn’t smoke, and the other one dressed in motor bike leathers, but doesn’t own a bike. The worrying part is that these two were probably on expenses, which means that somebody has actually employed them.
A quick flick through the news, lights off, and I was soon knocking out zeds.
Had a rare lay-in, never woke up until 7-30 a.m. Had a cuppa, out for a smoke, back up to get my clothes and stuff and loaded the car. Checked the travel news for any incidents on my way home, only road works on the A14, gave in my swipe card, and on the way home by 9-15.
Not many (if any) cameras on the A14, I was already doing 80/85 when a 5 car convoy passed me, I latched on to the back of it, and we cruised along the outside lane at about 100 mph for a long way, which put up my petrol consumption a fair bit, but I just wanted to get home.
An incident free trip, I got home and pulled up on the drive at about 11-00 a.m. All I wanted was a cuppa and a quiet smoke in the garden. Jane was outside picking a few weeds from the drive. She opened the passenger door and took my bag from the seat and gave me a peck on the cheek. Then I got smothered in kisses and had my face licked endlessly as the dog jumped inside the car.
It was good to be home.
Not many (if any) cameras on the A14, I was already doing 80/85 when a 5 car convoy passed me, I latched on to the back of it, and we cruised along the outside lane at about 100 mph for a long way, which put up my petrol consumption a fair bit, but I just wanted to get home.
An incident free trip, I got home and pulled up on the drive at about 11-00 a.m. All I wanted was a cuppa and a quiet smoke in the garden. Jane was outside picking a few weeds from the drive. She opened the passenger door and took my bag from the seat and gave me a peck on the cheek. Then I got smothered in kisses and had my face licked endlessly as the dog jumped inside the car.
It was good to be home.
Anyway, if you feel a desire to go horse racing for the first time, shun all the crappy meetings, save your money up and go to the Cheltenham Festival.
Top class racing, atmosphere you could cut with a knife, and if you come and say hello to us, you end up getting mentioned in despatches.
That’s your lot
Top class racing, atmosphere you could cut with a knife, and if you come and say hello to us, you end up getting mentioned in despatches.
That’s your lot
"Then I got smothered in kisses and had my face licked endlessly"
Funny thing with that was that remark caught my eye first, first thought was he's only been gone a couple of days, then read it wasn't Jane doing the kissing
Funny thing with that was that remark caught my eye first, first thought was he's only been gone a couple of days, then read it wasn't Jane doing the kissing
Burton-Brewers
18 Mar 14 14:09
thought you would have traded in that bloody Jag by now
Here she is Burt, not moved since Cheltenham, and won't move until next week when grandchild number 4 is born.
.
http://i59.tinypic.com/14b2vz9.jpg
18 Mar 14 14:09
thought you would have traded in that bloody Jag by now
Here she is Burt, not moved since Cheltenham, and won't move until next week when grandchild number 4 is born.
.
http://i59.tinypic.com/14b2vz9.jpg
now if you had not said anything I would have thought that was a Daimler, have you changed the rear lights?
Fantastic read as usual, I did look out for him in the best mate but couldn't remember the name of the bookies he worked for.
Maybe next year.
Maybe next year.
Burt
I don't mess with cars, I only know how to drive them, I haven't touched the lights.
Orsoncart
as you face the catering tent behind the stand in the BM enclosure, we are the 2nd joint from the left. I'm not one of the females, but I'm the biggest and ugliest of the two males. That should narrow it down a lot.
I don't mess with cars, I only know how to drive them, I haven't touched the lights.
Orsoncart
as you face the catering tent behind the stand in the BM enclosure, we are the 2nd joint from the left. I'm not one of the females, but I'm the biggest and ugliest of the two males. That should narrow it down a lot.
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