EVERYONE HAS THE RIGHT TO BE WRONG, THE NEW AIDAN, WHAT IF & NOT HAMILTON, CARTMEL.

Note to Richard Forristal of the Racing Post: the sport for all its existence has been called horse racing, not horse breeding. The two may live hand in glove with each other but it should be remembered that without the hand there is no need of the glove.

When the Arc was invented, it was needed. There was no King George and Queen Elisabeth Stakes in 1919. Derby winners, French, English or Irish were kettled towards the Cup races, with the Ascot Gold Cup as prestigious in those days as any Derby. Comrade won the inaugural Prix de I'Arc de Triomphe, ridden by Frank Bullock. Incidentally, I have always thought the title of the Ascot race to be too long, too convoluted. Given our late Queen's passion for our sport, would it not be a lasting honour to her for the K.G & Q.E. to be shorted to the Queen Elisabeth Stakes (or even Memorial Stakes)? The same with the Longchamp race. It is known worldwide as the ARC, so why not shorted the title to the Prix de I'Arc. Small matter, I know. But if Richard Forristal can go off his head simply because geldings will be allowed to compete in the Arc from 2027, I can voice my thought that a little brevity in the titles of the two major middle-distance races in Europe would be no bad thing. Traditionalists will be appalled, of course, as this traditionalist is appalled at the castration of the race formally known and loved by me as the Grand National. One day a gelding will win the Arc. The shape of the breed will not change for it happening and if it does alter it will not be so drastic as the 'trend' for speed so loved by thoroughbred breeders of today. Where is tradition when the long-lived major races are being short-changed by breeders putting profit before what is in the best interests of the breed. Having a couple of stoutly-bred geldings running in the Arc occasionally might even help balance the incessant travel towards 10-furlongs over 12.

Richard Forristal has every right to express his opinion. He is wrong, though, and I expect history to prove him so.

As long as he continues to train jumpers until the day he takes over from his father at Ballydoyle, I believe Joseph will in time be considered the new Aidan. Already he has achieved things in this sport that still elude his father, and not only his Melbourne Cup victories, and if he continues to allow himself the opportunity to train jumpers, I am sure he will power past his father's achievements when he was primarily a trainer of National Hunt horses. Joseph's five winners at Royal Ascot last week were nothing more than a step up the ladder towards taking his father's crown.

This is an obvious what if? But I think it is a question that needs to be asked. How would the B.H.A. have responded if this short spell of red hot weather blighted us last week and not this? Would they have postponed the meeting a week? Moved the first race forward to mid-morning? Or back to six in the evening? Just a thought. Tight collars, top hats and 36-degrees - ladies would have fainted en masse, old men would have keeled-over and died. Ed would not have had a chance of keeping Luke Harvey out of that swimming pool!

Yesterday my brain, no doubt due to the excessive heat - at the moment there is a lovely cool breeze coming through the open window - in expressing my fantasy 5-day Northern Racing Festival, I included Hamilton and its Saints and Sinners meeting. I should have suggested Cartmel, not Hamilton. If you have not visited Cartmel races it is your loss. It is Britain's Killarney or Killarney is Ireland's Cartmel. You choose. The Carlisle Bell, plus, I might suggest a second day, perhaps its all female-jockeys meeting, a day of jumps racing at Cartmel and then the 3-day Northumberland Plate meeting at Newcastle. Flat turf, jumping and all-weather racing. A picture of British racing in one neat succession. I commend my proposal to the electorate. Or the B.H.A. Or the three racecourse mentioned.

There is a chance of some rain this evening, perhaps even a thunderstorm. Something to look forward to, even if it will entain this old bloke running from room to room hastily closing every open window. Hopefully I will remember to start with the skylight. Oh, and for those not alive in 1976, the weather we are enduring this week bears no comparison to 1976. It was a hot summer, a British summer; it was the length of time without rain that keeps it in my memory, not excessively high temperatures.