For a while now, Saturday mornings have started in such a hilarious way by two jockeys on Facebook. We all look forward to the Wocket Woy and Batch videos so much that they have become a part of our weekend. Even he loves the hysterical antics of two grown men on their horses. And when an opportunity to own a teeny-tiny part of a racehorse came up, £45 for a bit of Nobby, we jumped at the chance and waited with anticipation as to when 'our' horse would run.
At 3.50 at Plumpton apparently. Except he didn't run because the ground was too wet. But we went anyway and giggled the whole afternoon.
To those of you that have never been racing, it's not how you imagine. There were no fancy hats or champagne, there were no owners dripping with money, there wasn't any glamour or beauty at all. In fact there weren't even any women there, and certainly none under 50. But my goodness it was fun. Having no idea what to do, how to bet or what to say - there was suddenly a plethora of older blokes willing to show us how it was done. We laughed together as they tipped us off, in between pints from plastic glasses and discarded fags on the floor. We exchanged horse knowledge and stories of huge wins, they told us how much they had riding on each horse, we jumped and screamed when ours looked like it was coming home a winner, we laughed with the geezers who laughed at us. She won, my sister - and I lost, picking the fallers and the ones who trotted home.
I can't wait to go again. And if Nobby runs, we will be cheering the loudest. £10 to win on Ya Hafed (Nobby) - our tiny part of the dream that is the Sport of Kings.
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