​Yes, I am an admirer of Bryony Frost as a jockey. Yes, in a recent poll I voted for her as my favourite jockey. Yes, she is the grand-daughter I have never had.
Yet, name me another jockey who can get on the front page of the Racing Post simply for a flying visit to Exeter racecourse for two rides, neither of whom are favourite? And do not suggest Frankie Dettori as he would not even know there is a racecourse on Haldon Hill or be able to name any racecourse located in Devon.
Bryony has sparkle and the locals, at least, love her. Her presence today at Exeter will swell attendance and if she wins on either of her mounts, both of which have a squeak, the applause will ring out long and loud. She rides for Paul Nicholls and her father Jimmy, though the first is at the behest of the owner, a man who has horses in training on both sides of the Channel. Of course, Bryony won the Red Rum at Aintree last April on San Bruit, a ride that the ever reluctant to praise or either mention her described as ‘brilliant’. The owner thought so too, hence his request for Bryony to come over from France to keep the partnership intact. Hopefully, when commitments allow, she will be making the trip over a good few more times this winter. I miss her.

The weather is testing the patience of trainers at the moment, especially Nicky Henderson who is pulling his hair out at being unable to unleash his battalion of potential top-class novice chasers. Although, for someone of his age, he still has need to comb his hair in the morning, he cannot become complacent and if this ‘anticyclonic gloom’ continues for much longer he may be bald come Boxing Day.
Actually, I am finding comfort in this dry, and for the time of year, warm, spell, as it reminds me of days of yore when the opening meetings at Ascot and Cheltenham would be plagued by dry ground, often described as firm, with trainers setting-up prayer meetings in hope of the gods, any god, providing rainstorms. Yes, good ground is now the new firm. Back then, in the days of Josh Gifford and Stan Mellor, racecourses did not have state of the art watering systems and two and three-runner races were accepted with gratitude as they were better than walk-overs. With a few exceptions, ground conditions are described as no worse than good at the moment, with selective watering to maintain that description. Come the Festival, do you think these same trainers would be complaining of ground described as good?
I am perplexed by trainers not being fined for taking horses out on the day of a race when the ground is exactly as described when declarations were made. In France, fines are excessive, especially for major races, not mere drops in the oceans when fines are handed out by our stewards. Half the value of the race should be the fine imposed; that should persuade trainers to value risk over caution. Or the fact they have eyed an easier race in a few-days time!

I am not criticising the magnificent work of those people who organise charity race-days. I am critical, though, of our sport raising six-figure sums to help fund cures and treatment for cancer and other human deceases, while in comparison doing far less to raise funds for equine charities. I feel we are shooting ourselves in the foot by promoting our awareness of human illness while giving the impression our equine companions are of less importance to us. It should be the other way around. Pat Smullen Cancer Trials Ireland Charity Race raised 240,000 euros, a fine and honourable achievement, a splendid way to honour a fine man. But why is there no drive to raise a similar amount for the aftercare of horses or to help fund cures for equine decease?

​The French are never slow to publicly demonstrate their opposition to laws or the intentions of their government they believe to be unfair. I only wish the British would replicate their noble actions. The French government, as with our despicable Labour governing party, have defended pushing-up tax levied on horse racing by claiming there is a big hole in public finances. Given the shed-loads of money wasted on the covid experiment, should we be surprised that governments around the world are having to save pennies with draconian measures against the vulnerable while continuing to spend mega-bucks on projects influential elites might consider of greater importance than giving benefit to uneconomical eaters?
What is impressive is that it seems the whole of the racing industry in France rallied shoulder-to-shoulder in opposing this attack on the industry, including the trotting side of racing in France. Jobs will be lost if the French government do not concede entirely on this matter. Already the French parliament has voted down the bill to increase taxation on racing, though, although making assertions that they want to protect the sport, the minister at the forefront of raising taxation has said he intends to find an alternative way to squeeze more money out of the sport.
If only the sport in this country had come together to voice its anger on the streets of London about the Gambling Commission’s missionary zeal to have government and bookmakers prying into the private financial matters of ordinary punters in order to save the souls of those afflicted by their addiction to on-line betting, namely bingo and poker sites.

Michael Stoute has his final runner as a trainer today at Nottingham. Firstly, I hope the horse, Wanderlust, wins, and secondly, I hope the sport in general gives Sir Michael the sort of send-off heroes of the sport deserves. Usually, as with Sir Henry Cecil, our heroes from the training ranks die suddenly and our appreciation can only be posthumous. Sir Michael is alive and, though perhaps not 100% hale and hearty – he is 79 when all said and done – he deserves to be honoured for both the success Freemason Lodge has been associated with during his long tenure but also for being well-liked by his peers and respected by the public for all the time he has held a trainers’ licence. He is one of those legendary trainers who in fifty and hundred-years-time whose name will resonate as John Porter, Fred Darling, Capt. Boyd-Rochfort and the Jarvis and Waugh family, do today.
Back in the day, when a jockey retired, for instance, his colleagues would organise a dinner, with every jockey who had ridden against him invited to speak in eulogy about him. I hope Sir Michael is similarly feted. A bottle of champagne and a framed photograph will not be nearly suitable given all he has achieved in the sport.

While I verge from sceptical to critical about the Bleeders’ Cup, I have to admit that the Melbourne Cup is one of the races that can vie for being ‘the greatest horse race in the world’, as the winning jockey described the race last Tuesday. Although the veterinary pantomime that preceded this season’s St. Leger winner, Jan Brueghel, from taking part detracts somewhat from the lead-up to the race, the race itself is everything the racing fan can expect from a race. A lot of runners, foreign invaders to give intrigue, the high possibility that a complete outsider might prevail, thereby encouraging the world and his wife to have a bet and the host racecourse seemingly as fair and attractive as any in the world. I would have liked a British or Irish-trained winner but that was not to be, especially as Joseph O’Brien did not have a runner this year, though he did formally train the third home, but it was nice to have the winner trained by one of the less dominant Australian trainers, which allows romance to bloom once-in-a-while. A note there for Aintree to take on board.

Surprise, surprise, Luke Comer jnr has won his appeal against his suspension from the sport. It seemed to me at the time of the enquiry into the discovery of equine bones found on a forested part of his land that there was no direct evidence to suggest the remains were anything to do with him. No DNA to trace to horses formally trained by him or even the age of the remains. To me, of course, firstly, he should not have been found guilty of the claim against him, and secondly, the same leniency should have been applied to Shark Hanlon. But that is Irish racing justice for you. Selective. One might say that as Comer jnr’s father, also subject to a banning order, is a major sponsor of Irish racing, that a deal might have been struck. I am not saying it has. I hope not. But it was my prevailing thought after reading about the success of Luke Comer’s appeal.

​Out of the blue, as was the announcement of his passing, he rang me one evening and I could hardly believe it was him. He was responding to a letter published in the Racing Post on the subject of one of my many hobby-horses, owners being allowed to register the name of a famous horse on to a lesser kind of racehorse. Why he chose to take time out of his life to speak to a total stranger, I cannot say? I had no idea then and all these years later I remain mystified why I was so honoured. Perhaps he was bored. Perhaps he hoped I say something illuminating that he could hang an article around. I suspect I disappointed him.
Thinking about it now, in the letter I may have been questioning the 18-character rule of naming racehorses and veered off-course by also referencing the lack of respect afforded to horses who had strained every sinew when alive to entertain and enthral us only to have their name re-used a few years after their retirement. The names of racehorses are pathways to memory, remember.
He was, broadly speaking, in support of my position and I hoped our short conversation might provoke him into writing an article on the subject; his weight of reputation might have spurred the B.H.A. to introduce a cherished list of names that would have protected the names of our famous equine heroes and heroines long into the future, alongside the names of classic winners, Grand National, Cheltenham Gold Cup winners, etc, that are debarred from ever being used again.
I remember saying to him, mainly, I believe, to prolong the honour of speaking with him, that the name Rondetto might yet reappear on a racecard. He seemed to be hurt or possibly offended by the possibility and I reminded him that though Rondetto won many races at the top level, he had not achieved success in one of the races that would allow his name to die with him. Rondetto, I know, was Alastair’s favourite racehorse.
Apart from owning a copy of ‘The Best of Alastair Down’, a Racing Post publication, a celebration of his life’s work up 2015 and a horse racing book of the year award winner, this brief telephone conversation is the only personal association I had with the great man and I envy those who knew him as either a friend or a colleague.
John Francome once said of Alastair Down, that it was wrong that he (John) had many books published, while Alastair had not bothered himself to write any, a fact he put down to laziness. Or words to that effect. And that is the one blot on Alastair’s professional life; he has left us with so few books with his name on the spine to adorn our book-shelves. ‘The Best Of …’ will be the next book I reread. 
May he rest in peace on the windswept Cleeve Hill where he has requested his ashes to be spread and the spirits of all the great horses of National Hunt he wrote about pass-by to pay their respects to the greatest writer on racing there has ever been, and doubtless always will be.

David Jennings, a fair writer of quality prose himself, interrupted his preamble to the Breeders’ Cup to pay his respects to the great man. A nice touch.
Jennings suggested that people either love the Breeders’ Cup or loathe it. He is wrong in his assessment. The third position is the one I take. I am indifferent to it. It moves me not one iota. In America, cheating was considered okay as long as you got away with it. It is only now, where the ‘social licence’ has become a stick to beat the sport, that the U.S. is caring more for the horses on the track and going against the tide in an effort to catch the cheats. Also, dirt is a crap surface to race horses on. The Breeders’ Cup is an American invention, a beanfeast for the multi-millionaires. All tinsel and razzmatazz. It is not for me. That said, I hope City of Troy is successful in his bid to give Coolmore all that it desires and I would like Bradsell to win for Holly.

It is inappropriate that Alastair Down should pass from us at the time of year when expectation and suspense is about to become a reality of surprise and attribution. November, the best time of year. We will see State Man, Constitution Hill, Galopin Des Champs, all the young talent at Closutton and Cullentra and many many more, during this month. And it begins today with Gerri Colombe and Hewick at Down Royal and Bravemansgame at Wetherby. Let me live at least until after the Little Grand National and a little beyond. It is all I ask. After all, I have outlived Alastiar, and that too is wrong!