Giddy Up

I haven't stopped today, well that's a lie, I stopped just long enough to watch the Grand National.

I come from a family who have always stopped to watch this. My Dad loves his horses and from a very young age we were allowed to pick a 'winner' in the National. The only race. Dad would sit on the edge of his seat, slowly galloping forward, the odd shout of encouragement, his hands would come up searching for the reins, his shouts a bit louder. At jumps he would sit up straighter and pause until he reached the safety of the firm ground beneath him. Towards the end his shouts were deafening and the whip had come out. Often I would watch him more than the horses. And then, within moments, it was over, forgotten for another year. But those memories are still strong. So much so that this morning we all sat round the paper choosing our horses.

I put the bet on today and was amazed at how many people were in the shop. There were the just turned 18 year old girls and boys, the older women, out for coffee and a quick flutter, the men trying to look like they belonged, but didn't really. There were others who made no apology and just asked 'how do I' and stood gawping at all they took in. Clearly they had never been in an old style bookies.

In my head today I was back with Dad, watching him watch the race, it was magical. I won 1st and 2nd, so something has rubbed off. But then, I've always been able to spot a winner.

I asked my boy to be my jockey for blip - he refused point blank! So here is the only shot I took. At least it shows the sun is out and we are still smiling.