2000 Guineas

Not sure on 2000 guineas more likely 1000 or a big race – a filly I think, and within in two years of his leaving. Good of you to even care about this. He brushed off the embarrassment and sort of carried on. Obviously I know where he writes now and something really strange happened recently, that might allow me to ask him directly.

I wouldn’t know that Purwell but I am sure many appreciate the knowledge.

I missed Sir 🍒 ‘s post over page which can happen with a fast moving forum

He wrote…

“Trailed” or “trialled” – you stalked him or WERE him?

Why do I even ask?

No good EVER comes of it!”

Well there is no way I would spend a year of my life chasing myself. I admit it became an obsession similar to the lady who researched the ID ( sorry pun) of Jack the Ripper for three years and she couldn’t leave it – it took her over and consumed her and subsumed her mentally. I think Conan Doyle lost his own ID when he invented Holmes – he became a shadow living in the shadow of the master sleuth. Holmes came back with a big dog after dying in the Reichenbacher falls. He beat Doyle his creator – he won.

As for Salty Jack it tired and drained me so much that I eventually lost interest and never declared to the world I had found him. I did get that A team satisfaction of getting a result and the plan coming together.

No good came of it – apart from a little self esteem which I shared with gamble. In the main no good EVER comes of stalking – Although Graham Greene’s double possibly lived a happier life than the author he pretended to be, who was often beset by deep depression. I stared up at the large window he wrote from in Brighton bang on the front above shops. A modest small place I nearly acquired, for the fascination and magic that may have remained there in the walls and in the air. Like you Sir in your newly acquired suit, I am a lover of all things green. I wouldn’t make a point of it, but if you did a silly dance on a racecourse of your choosing, at a stretch, I could almost love you.

🐢…he don’t love no one but himself – I watch quietly from the garden.

“Seem to remember you might have gone off a cliff on that one Nats – maybe I am wrong. I also recall Hurdy-gurdy man from his exotic isle, saying a certain group 1 horse couldn’t be beat, for months and months before the big race. Might have been a filly or mare. He said you could put your house on it and he suggested he had. The house finished up in pieces at the bottom of the cliff. Can anyone fill in the dots?”

I seem to vaguely remember someone raving on about how great Hurricane Run was … but got turned over by Pride