"When we had water he would cook rice, but generally he made bread" *

  * from Arabian Sands (1959) by Wilfred Thesiger

High time I started making bread of my own.
The apotheosis of middle class completism?
Or an earthy reconnection with what's real?

Never mind all that shite. This first warm, salted, crusty white loaf turned out a treat.

1. Flour, salt, yeast, warm water

2. Combine

3. Knead, stretch and knead again

4. Cover and leave in a warm place

5. An hour and a half later


6. Tap down, reshape, cover and leave for half an hour more

7. On a preheated baking tray, score dough, scatter flour

8. Bake for 35-40 mins in a hot oven

9. Get in

Further information: Food & Cooking by Harold McGee (2004), chapter 10
Video: river cottage basic loaf

Fantasy Festival: Day 4

Our Conor was simply awesome in the Triumph. I know one of the owners. His name is Tanqueray & Tonic.

If we'd ever met I'd call him Noel. But these are the days when you make somebody's acquaintance without ever having to look 'em in the eye. Tanqueray & Tonic is a member of the KFC (or Kalanisi Fan Club), a small online community of racing punters and enthusiasts that's been on the go for years. Last Christmas, T&T marked our card at the big Leopardstown meeting: "I am lucky enough to be one of the 6 members of the Man About Town syndicate that owns Our Conor. From day 1 Dessie has been giving us huge reports on the horse. Based on what Dessie says the 7/4 is too big and he should be backed."

In the event Our Conor was a non-runner that day but when he reappeared at the Irish Hennessy meeting he fairly bolted up. I doubt any amount of stable confidence, though, could have prepared T&T and the boys for the absolute hatchet job he produced out there on Friday. And now they can dream again as they eye up next year's Champion Hurdle.

You have to go back to 2002 and Scolardy to find the last Irish winner of the Triumph. We were there. It was the year Brynaldo speared the Champion Hurdle, Queen Mother and Gold Cup on his trident. It was the year of the bajan gayboy bandit and the leather-panted temptress.

At the track Nick's ambition has always been to neck his hipflask before the first and back one winner before the last. I doubt he remembers the name of the Irishman who gave him the tip that day but he'll never forget the name of Charlie Swan.

"Put ahl o' yer money on Charlie Swan in the first boys."

Jenkins took note. For all he knew Charlie Swan could have been the name of a horse. But no - it turned out Charlie Swan was riding in the first.  And Nick's ambition was realised big time when yer man Charlie steered Scolardy home by eleven lengths at an SP of 16/1.

In the Triumph field that day was a 40/1 no-hoper called Non So, owned by the Dawn Run Partnership. One member of this syndicate was Alan Fordham who used to work on the same floor as me. Alan loved his racing. He had a bet every day and had no illusions of making it pay.

Non So was his first foray into racehorse ownership. After winning a couple of little juvenile hurdles at the gaff tracks he caught up with me at work. "We're running him in the Triumph, Steve, I can't believe it. We'll lead 'em round - at least for the first mile." And that's what he did, until weakening and pulling up before the last.

A great thrill to have a runner at Cheltenham but that wasn't the end of the road for Alan. Non So went on to win the Lanzarote Hurdle, finish 2nd in the Tote Gold Trophy and 4th in the County Hurdle itself. A small horse, he never seemed quite so good over the larger obstacles. Yet in his final race - at the Festival on 16 March 2006 - he somehow managed to stuff 23 rivals in the big two and half mile handicap chase, the old Mildmay of Flete.

Meanwhile back in the real world of Fantasy Festival, there'd been a good bit of rain about and it came in time for At Fisher's Cross, who won the Albert Bartlett convincingly.

Our Conor had won at 4/1. At Fishers Cross was returned a mere 11/8. Most of us were flapping about for winners at big prices. Si, however, who'd started the day with a workable bank of around £140, did not overlook these good things.  By the time we got to the Gold Cup he'd gathered a stash of £275.

Meanwhile Colin had found the strong staying Inish Island each-way in the Albert Bartlett and was sitting on £373. The thing to do now was to lump the lot on Bobs Worth at 11/4. That would have been enough to take the lead. Instead he went for the mud loving Cape Tribulation. If someone who wasn't already pissed up on booze had told him this was in fact an illegal second each-way bet of the day maybe he'd have come back to Bobs Worth? Si put a ton on Long Run.

The Gold Cup was an epic contest, absolutely brutal. They don't come tougher than Bobs Worth. When you closely observe a race like that you begin to appreciate why Gold Cup winners struggle to come back and defend their title. Best Mate was able to do it (the first horse since L'Escargot in 1971) but even he couldn't recover from the total warfare that was his third win in 2004.

Most of us had something to play with in the finale - the aptly named Grand Annual. The formbook was now irrelevant. The only thing to do was to back something at a price. I needed a lively one at around 16/1. Davoski made his calculation and when his original fancy shortened up he had to choose something else! Tim, Si and Colin could afford to look nearer the head of the market. Neville had pulled up and gone home early in what turned out to be a hospital job for an inflamed pancreas. Get well soon mate.

Steve went for Ulck Du Lin. When Ruby pulled him up at the top of the hill, putting the tin hat on a miserable week for Paul Nicholls, the chasing pack was in with a real shout.  Our chances came and went. As they freewheeled down the hill for the very last time Petit Robin was stilll in the mix for Si. But as they approached the second last two horses had pulled clear: Alderwood, the 3/1 favourite (effectively running for Steve) and Kid Cassidy (the selection of Colin).

And the Kid took it up 2 out! "Come on Kid Cassidy!" called out Col, edging urgently forward, his body now in bookies' reflex. Some of his mates joined in: "Go on the Kid! Go on!" But Alderwood, in the hands of AP McCoy - the strong man - gradually asserted in the final climb home.

And then a long low drawl from the back of the shop: "Go a-h-n McCoy-y-y! G-e-h-t in!".

Not Steve, who'd stayed behind in the pub resigned to whatever the Fates threw up.

Just a punter who'd backed the final favourite in the Getting Out Stakes. Or the self-satisfied hollow cackle of Christopher Marlowe's bad angel arriving right on cue to lead Colin to the underworld.

Back to the pub for the brief ceremony and what the telly pundits like to call "the reaction".

Steve M being led up in the sponsor's rug

I introduced a second prize this year and (here's psychological profiling for you) only Nick and Colin had had the nerve to leave a few quid behind in their banks. Nick just shaded it but had the good grace to consign his prize immediately to the whip.

And so we set our sights on next year. You can already get stuck into Our Conor for the Champion, or maybe you prefer The New One? Surely the aging Hurricane Fly will have to give way to a new one. The game is all about renewal.

And also anticipation. A Julian Barnes character wrote about it in the novella Flaubert's Parrot:

"I remember the end of L'Education Sentimentale. Frédéric and his companion Deslauriers are looking back over their lives. Their favourite, final memory is of a visit to a brothel years before, when they were still schoolboys. They had planned the trip in detail, had their hair specially curled for the occasion, and had even stolen flowers for the girls. But when they got to the brothel, Frédéric lost his nerve, and they both ran away. Such was the best day of their lives. Isn’t the most reliable form of pleasure, Flaubert implies, the pleasure of anticipation? [And here Barnes borrows a phrase from Philip Larkin] Who needs to burst into fulfilment's desolate attic?" 

Well obvioulsy we bloody well need to, so that we can see who comes out on top in the Champion Hurdle and the Gold Cup - and Fantasy Festival too. But we also need the anticipation. At Cheltenham it is unique because it's so long-lasting and for some the countdown has started already.

So until next year, lente lente currite noctis equi - as they say in Basildon.

Fantasy Festival: Day 3

Steve disclosed this morning that Medinas is the name of Sam's old workplace. He hinted (no he pretty much admitted) that his flamboyant 33/1 selection yesterday had nothing whatsoever to do with form study.

At this point Patrick "Double Carpet" Maguire chipped in. His victory in the competition last year, he said, was down to the fact that he liked the name of his 33/1 winner Countrywide Flame - because it amusingly reminded him of cunts.

All of this brings the game into disrepute. It suggests - as Nick Jenkins has long insisted - that it's all down to blind luck.

If only Ben adopted a similar approach. IF ONLY - those two last words of the derelict punter.

If only he'd slapped all his remaining wedge on BENEFFICIENT today, he'd now be sitting on a pot of £1,400 and drinking Doombar through a straw. Instead of which he's left without a pot to piss it away in.

Benefficient was incredibly game there today. He led them round most of the way and when Dynaste turned the screws and forged ahead on the way down the hill, a lesser beast would have folded. But he kept at it, and at it again, until finding a brilliant leap at the last and the reserves of stamina to get him to the line.

Did Dynaste go too soon?  Maybe, maybe not. At the Festival here last year in the Fred Winter, Tom Scudamore went for home too soon on Kazlian. Miles clear turning in, the chasing pack eventually swallowed him up close home. He did the same thing on the same horse only this last weekend in the Imperial Cup at Sandown.

And here today Scudamore once more took it up a long way out. The New Course at Cheltenham is notoriously stiff, particularly in these relentless Festival end-to-end gallops. Maybe he thought the horse was - if you'll pardon the expression - giving him a good feel. Maybe he thought stamina was guaranteed after that Feltham win over 3 miles. Who knows.

Who cares? Colin, for one, doesn't give a flying monkey's. He trousered 200 notes while the rest of us rustled through our papers to find the next racecard.

The Pertemps was won by a JONJO horse wearing FIRST TIME HEADGEAR carrying the SPECTROSCOPE colours. There are clues a-plenty in that one sentence alone. Clues that we all walked blunderingly by.

The Ryanair was run just as Colin always said it would be run - and I take my hat off to the lad.  Cue Card won't stay, I told him, ACCEPT IT! Cue Card didn't only stay, he stayed the hardest way - by making the running and being harried relentlessly all the way round by Champion Court. When he stretched away up the hill, it was a defining moment for a  true champion.

In what's becoming a sickening trend, Steve was the only one of us to pick out this winner - presumably because the beast's name reminded him of an old family pet or something.

In the World Hurdle I thought old Bog Warrior had them all on the stretch as they turned in, but it wasn't to be. The speedier types collared him. Solwhit, so often the witness to Hurricane Fly's prosecution, had his day in the sun and it was some training performance to get him here.

Colin jerked away his precious JOKER DOUBLE on Oscar Whisky here, and surely now regrets committing the cardinal sin of punting: changing his mind.

And so now we turn for home.

Colin may be able to reel-in the leader with a relatively short priced winner.
But the rest of us need some inspiration. Think of a name - any name...

1. Steve M £937.60
2. Colin £301.25
3. Si £140.63
4. Nick £109.55
5. Neville £103.96
6. Tim £103.13
7. Dave £100
8. Steve C £82.50
9. Paul £56.42
10. Bryn & Patrick £50
12. Ben £10

Fantasy Festival: Day 2

Originally Steve was going to have a tenner each-way on Medinas.

When told he'd have to rethink his each-way bets (only one allowed per day) he came back quick as a flash: "Change Medinas to £20 win. Money for old rope."

I don't know about the old rope, but it was money indeed as the King beast fairly stormed up the hill at 33/1!

With almost a grand in the bank Steve's out of sight, surely?

In the Neptune Ruby didn't quite get it right for once, dictating what looked a dawdling pace on Pont Alexandre. This was probably intentional on his part, but it played right into the hooves of The New One - who it turned out was the only one of these stayers blessed with a killer turn of foot. You wouldn't be surprised if they came back to 2 miles with him next year. And how we struggled - only Davoski found this winner at 7/2 and there was more to come.

With the principal Grade 1 winners lining up in the 4-miler and the Jewson, the RSA was an anticlimax. This is not what we come here to see - especially when Back In Focus and Dynaste are allowed to contest those lesser events without a Grade 1 penalty. That's what they mean when they talk about diluting the Festival. Nevertheless, Boston Bob - who seemed to struggle to hold his place at times - really rolled down the hill in a sweeping move, only to fall agonisingly in the straight.  Lord Windermere picked up the pieces, outstaying Lyreen Legend for an Irish sweep. Everyone drew a blank and it was just like the old days.

Sprinter Sacre did what we've come to expect in spite of a brave attempt by the old warrior Sizing Europe to ease him out of his comfort zone.  But Sprinter's comfort zone is upholstered and super-zonal. And that was the end of that.

Paul (or should I say Geoffrey) plumbed new depths by placing a £5 win bet at odds of 1/4. Not even Jenkins would have the gall to do that.

Si duly landed his JOKER DOUBLE. It only paid out at just under even money before adding his 20% bonus, but it was welcome money in the bank I'm sure.

Brynaldo too netted the first leg of his double, adding a whopping £12.50 to his £50 stake. When Fiveforthree won him a sneaky £40 in the Coral Cup, seasoned pros were heard muttering to themselves. Could this be the start, they said, of the old Reynoldstown Charge?

Look here boys. We're only half way through. We've still got a few quid to spend.
Surely the time has come to start betting like men?

1. Steve M £942.60
2. Nick £234.55
3. Tim £183.13
4. Si £185
5. Colin £181.25 (+ 2nd leg of JOKER to come)
6. Neville £173.96
7= Bryn/Dave £170 (+ for Bryn second leg of JOKER to come)
9. Steve C £132.50 (+ second leg of JOKER to come)
10. Paul £106.42
11. Paddy £100
12. Ben £70

Fantasy Festival: Day 1

Following the late defection of the quietly fancied Lady Brickett, a field of 12 lined up for our 2013 renewal. If you’d told me we’d have as many runners as the Supreme Novices...

This was the smallest field for the Festival Opener since 1976.  Hopefully William Hill, who in their scrap for business had already guaranteed each-way terms for the first five home, were up to their throats in frantic thievery all morning.

There’s nothing quite like Festival form and Champagne Fever returned to the scene of his gutsy win in last year’s bumper to land another big one, outstaying My Tent Or Yours – the latest in a long line of doomed Supreme Bankers. Ruby Walsh rode a master class from the front: stealing away at the start, maintaining a pace that was just searching enough, while keeping a bit back for the climb home. Jezki, the one I liked at the morning prices, got chopped up by Cheltenian early doors and then paid for some scratchy leaps at the business end and could only scramble third.

The Arkle failed to serve up the treat we’d all hoped for. Arvika threw in a couple of magnificent leaps down the back but just as you thought he might make them all go he went out like a brief candle.  Overturn – in turn - then failed to heat up the hotpot.  And so it was left to an unlikely hero to keep Simonsig honest: Mouse Morris’s Bailey Green, who seems to have been on the go non-stop since they called time on last year’s Festival. But the grey, who on this evidence is no Sprinter Sacre over the big black ones, was classy enough to hold on.

The Champion Hurdle was the searing tussle we’ve all come to expect these days, with the blinkered and brave Rock On Ruby getting stuck into them from the off.  Half way round Hurricane Fly appeared to be struggling to go with them. Then Grandouet, who’d had no difficulty holding his place, made a hash of one and came down. While Mike Cattermole was making yet another shambolic job of the on-course commentary, Walsh managed to nurse The Fly back into the brawling ruck. And when they turned for home he asserted, finally quietening those who’d doubted he truly stays. The first to regain the title since Comedy Of Errors back in 1975. Countrywide Flame, shamefully neglected by Paddy this year, stayed on like a good Cesarewitch horse should to deny Zarkandar for third.  

There must have been some late money for The Fly because it looked at one point as if he’d be sent off an insulting price. The returned SP of 13/8 will have irked some shrewd Fantasy players.

And so to the competition.

Fantasy Festival wouldn’t be the same without Nick wagering a minimum £5 bet on an odds-on 8/15 shot. Spawny twat! And this year he wasn’t even alone. Davoski’s brother Paul, allowed to enter the competition in the belief that he played the game straight, played the same card! An inglorious Boycottian debut and no mistake.

Steve M (whose swaggering confidence was betrayed the moment he described his selections as “burgers in waiting”) has sauntered clear after landing a rare JOKER DOUBLE. It was a cautious one alright but the Simonsig/Hurricane Fly combo paid out at just over 3/1 before the addition of his 20% bonus. He also picked out Champagne Fever at 5/1 – so he’s well clear with over £300 in the tank.

BUT!

Colin, who’d earlier snaffled a nifty little each-way pot on Tullamore Dew, is sitting on a monstrous double after landing over £80 on The Fly in the first leg of his JOKER. All that remains is for him to make a complete bollocks of that all-important second choice. I’d get it out of the way soon, Col. The more you wait, the more we'll get inside your headspace, taking you to uncomfortable places. For pity’s sake don’t leave it till Friday.

Nick also found three winners. His strategy of conservatism has not altered in 13 years, and that’s why all those lovely winners won him a mere forty quid. It’s Day 4 that matters, not Day 1, I can hear him say.

In a day notable for successful JOKERS, Si and I also pouched our first legs, albeit less audaciously than Colin.  We now just need to remain calm, unflinching and strike when the moment is right.

This is Si’s debut and a big shout-out to him for landing one winner and finishing second with all three of his other selections.  He’s bagged the whole week off work too. Clearly a lad who means his business.

Nev and Tim ended the day ahead, mainly thanks to The Fly, and Paul just about broke even.  

This is all very well from you boys at the front, but whatever happened to carefree bets at big prices? Well done if you won a few pounds and sixty-seven pence.  Take a bow if you robbed the bookie of a few quid and thirty-three pence. Man up! I've had to reformat far too many Excel cells to two decimal places and we've only just begun.

The rest of us are playing catch up. Benaldo Faldo has been off the track for hundreds and hundreds of days, and he’s out the back again. It’s a game of margins though. If only Rock On Ruby had held on...

On a personal note it was one of those days of sinking feelings as the ante-posters foundered in their turn: Dodging Bullets – OUTCLASSED; Arvika Ligeonniere – UNSOUND; Grandouet – going alright when FELL.

Turning to the day of race bets: Jezki – THIRD! UNTIDY IN RUNNING; Our Mick – SECOND! GAME BUT WELL BEATEN...

So it was massive relief in the last when Rajdhani Express managed to hold off the closing Ackertac (just!) in an arduous lifelong ascent to the line. To have been shortheaded would've rounded the day aptly. Instead of which I can type this up without screaming and look towards Day 2 with relish.    

1. Steve M  312.60

2. Nick  242.05

3. Neville 238.96

4. Colin 221.25 (plus £81.25 double yet to be committed)

5. Tim 215.63

6. Paul 195.17

7. Si 180 (£26.67 double yet to be committed)

8. Steve C 165 (£32.50 double yet to be committed)

9. Dave 160

10= Bryn/Paddy 150

12. Ben 135

apologies in advance for any settling errors

Her Majesty's Totalisator

If you like to look for a decent priced horse in one of the Festival handicaps, don't forget the Tote.

In the last five years 33/49 (67%) of the handicaps (not including the cross-country race) were won by a horse returned at 10/1 or above.

29 of those 33 winners (88%) were returned a better price on the Tote.
(In fact Divers was marginally better on the Tote too, but the numbers are so tight I've disregarded him.)

The missing figure below, of course, is the betfair SP, which I suspect beat the Tote more often than not.

Still, if you don't play the exchanges, or enjoy each-way betting, it may be worth giving the Tote a go.

Ante-Post Mortem

For all the hard work, what an indifferent book of rides I'm looking at.
(Not that it was real work in the Larkin squatting toad sense.)

Supreme: Dodging Bullets at 14/1 - now 9/1
January bet. Has been nibbled at recently but market effectively blown apart by My Tent Or Yours.

Arkle: Arvika Ligeonniere at 10/1 - now 8/1
Oldest bet in the book and all was looking rosy till he went left-handed. They say it's a two horse race between Simonsig & Overturn but he could yet shake them up.

Champion Hurdle: Grandouet at 6/1 - now 8/1
Recent bet, followed almost immediately by long walk in the market. I do have faith in the horse but this recent rain has dented confidence.

Neptune: Rule The World at 10/1 - now 10/1
Pont Alexandre just keeps getting punted and Jonjo has been uncommonly talkative about Taquin Du Seuil. I expect my lad will be shortened into 8s or thereabouts come Wednesday though.

RSA: Back In Focus at 14/1 - now 12/1 but almost a certainty to bypass the race.
No money back or free bet for me. Absurd really to see a Grade 1 winner over 3m being routed to a 4 mile novice chase for amateur riders! But that's the name of the game these days with too much firepower concentrated in a small number of yards.

Champion Chase: no bet

Jewson: Aupcharlie at 12/1 - now 5/1
One of the better prospects but I'd be a lot happier if the rain had left off. Nor can I be doing with the Pipe yard dithering about where they're sending Dynaste.

Ryanair: Sizing Europe at 10/1 - now 6/1
Was keen on this until I heard the trainer leaning towards the 2 miler. This late rain might have made his mind up, sadly.

World Hurdle: Bog Warrior at 10/1 - now 10/1
I'd resigned myself to a no-show but on a softer surface maybe we'll see him come over after all.

Triumph Hurdle: Swnymor at 14/1 - now 25/1
Odds took a walkabout after a shocking effort on quicker ground last time. Looks ground dependant now but needs a Friday bog merely to justify saddling up.

Albert Bartlett: Road To Riches at 14/1 - now 14/1
Recent bet and not much to add except that the rain has helped At Fishers Cross and today's form helped African Gold. Was hoping to see this boy on a decent surface.

Gold Cup: Last Instalment at 33/1 - now a confirmed non-runner
A real pity. On the likely ground he'd have made them all go, but now we may never see him back to his best.

Toads

Why should I let the toad work
Squat on my life?
Can’t I use my wit as a pitchfork
And drive the brute off?

Six days of the week it soils
With its sickening poison -
Just for paying a few bills!
That’s out of proportion.

Lots of folk live on their wits:
Lecturers, lispers,
Losels, loblolly-men, louts -
They don’t end as paupers;

Lots of folk live up lanes
With fires in a bucket,
Eat windfalls and tinned sardines -
They seem to like it.

Their nippers have got bare feet,
Their unspeakable wives
Are skinny as whippets - and yet
No one actually starves.

Ah, were I courageous enough
To shout Stuff your pension!
But I know, all too well, that’s the stuff
That dreams are made on:

For something sufficiently toad-like
Squats in me, too;
Its hunkers are heavy as hard luck,
And cold as snow,

And will never allow me to blarney
My way of getting
The fame and the girl and the money
All at one sitting.

I don’t say, one bodies the other
One’s spiritual truth;
But I do say it’s hard to lose either,
When you have both.

- Philip Larkin (1954)