Forum Replies Created
- Posts
THE HOLE
I have reported this happening before but a long time ago BUT as it is a grey and rather dreary afternoon I thought I might brighten the scene and write it again, also Sedgefield was very kind to me.
I was living in Frankfurt in the mid 80’s. I would buy the Sportwelt every day it was sold – It wasn’t every day and it was expensive 3 marks I think for a slimmie.
They had jockey’s weights in kilos so I adapted to that and used to go to Frankfurt race course very often. A favourite horse at that time ( never have particular favourites these days it’s all mathematics and money really) was the sprinter Orojoya and I picked up a good price on her when she ran in Frankfurt and later backed her at 1/3 @ Sandown (last race ) or Kempton in blighty on a rather dreary evening where I heard a bookie shout – I’ll pay you Monday at Leicester – such were the times them. I was invited to the John Dunlops early evening party after racing by a lady that new him – but I declined because I felt sorry for the lady’s husband.
Anyway all that aside I want to get to the HOLE. One Sunday as it was often a Sunday…duty calls I must go ( maybe finish it later )
Just had time to edit the mistakes 👌Wintertime
One horse to another horse
“Do you know what you are doing ?”
Other horse
” Not really “
The winter cancellations are quite flavoursome to me. Any break in the racing programme means I can put my feet up. Even one meeting cancelled saves me quite a lot of grind.
I think the summer heat was a different matter and caused distortion. An equal or slightly less distortion that the new much smaller fields disrupt jump racing data. It is all manageable but difficult.
Of course I have had quite a lot of social disruptions over the Xmas period – it’s inevitable and taken with a pinch of salt.
I don’t recommend any break in the racing programme apart from the weather inflicted breaks that come from above.Thank you Gnats (Nathan) for finding and posting the voting data history over the past few years.
The 🏆 is still coveted despite the guilty ones having mince pie eyes.
Gnats as for your very righteous self admission it presented and interesting denouement to what was a runaway winner.The secret gambler series I.
The salt cellar in our house is a jolly looking rotund father Xmas about two inches tall with a red cloak and a full white beard and two very important holes in the top of his head – which incidentally work as well in June as in the bitter cold of January.
The hour is 2028 and dinner is called. I am miles away in Wolverhampton and rustle up my slim unobtrusive paperwork and clear the three pages very neatly away, as the horses presumably mill around the start – I place my mobile on the table screen down and prepare my napkin as the soup starter is brought in. I revert to two blackboards in my head. I put figures on one board still fresh in my mind from my written calculations, it’s seconds away from the off now and I attempt a better be quick and accurate final division sum on blackboard 2.
” Could you fetch the salt please ”
Hmmm that done it and it’s a disappointing no bet caused by social obligation and nicety and towing the line and with a now blank mind I obligingly get up and fetch father Xmas. No real worries with that it is all part of the game and has happened many times before. After 40 minutes when the dinner is finished, the unknowing culprit – the little father Xmas, still smiling is put away.The escapee speaks…
Gnats has to be applauded for his fine work on this but ‘ just sayin ‘ I have never seen the compo snuffed out in an instant – it is usually left up for a few days for comments in the various sections – but possibly Gnats is well ahead of the game and sensed the declining mood.
These yearlies have been going on for almost a quarter of a century and possibly there’s a limit to high interest. I can remember, well with the big one anyway, there were always ten challengers and votes would reach into the 70’s and 80’s but now we are scraping 30. That does not mean the forum is less well attended – I don’t possess comparable figures – it may be just that interest has waned.
Congrats to VTC – his sixth award I think. Not that I follow tipsters but I must applaud the Ginger one and Dynamite for posting up profit and loss. Both are to be applauded.The news channels grab us by the eyelids by focussing on disasters so I continue in the same vein to highlight the disaster of my own New Year celebrations. After the last guest had gone at 315 am – I needed to chill out, so opened a bottle and watched the final recorded half of Papillon – a filum I had seen yonks ago. Now I invested my valuable time expecting to be entertained and what actually happened – somebody picked my pocket right under my nose in my ‘ the disgusted one’s ‘ armchair. They cut and got away with, 34 minutes and five years of the main character’s life – stripped it out of the action. No whiff of warning – just robbed blind at a celebratory time of year in the earlies – wham bam thank you licence holder!
The crouching menace can go take a running jump and drown in it’s escape attempt as far as I care.
The horseracing product has not so blatantly been chipped away by the three legged race – win lose and draw. Ball times features on the news every day – you get stuffed full of its personality dramas whether you like it or not. I like it ! Hence the horseracing decline.
Just a few words. Oh I hit the sack at 515am5 days of exhausting celebrations to go !
Uber Eats saved my Xmas a bit like the eight man orchestra on the Titanic it changed the reality and all for a measly £27 plus a pound tip to the guy in the helmet.
Two bottles of Trivento Argentinian Malbec
acceptably good for a screw top – Ground take note.
A two pint bottle of non organic milk and a brand that Postman Pat might have delivered as a suspect parcel.
An exorbitant plastic packet of Leerdammer with its trademark holey slices – the nutty one that can only count to eight.
I am on the second shared bottle and could comfortably sleep in a manger.I dedicate my racing models to
to Frederick Forsyth a perfectionist in research” What is the life expectancy of an inmate in a concentration camp?
One month to nine months
(The Odessa file)
What is the life expectancy in a British run care home –
Four years – unless you find an unlocked window.😁
The plebeian cheese Leerdammer is best eaten with water biscuits which are completely tasteless and give a better chance of tasting the cheese – be it simulation hypothesis or cold turkey reality.
If existence and your mind and thoughts Ground are fantastically all part of a simulation hypothesis – the newest term – it proves that superior beings if they did create such a paradox, possibly as a kind of experiment out of one of their advanced amusement arcades or thought machines – well it only goes to prove that such advanced beings had a mischievous side and were able to create the odd rabbit hole that didn’t run that deep.
Like Scrooge on the eve before Xmas
I experienced a MUTE NIGHTMARE.
The memory is painful…A green vested blob in the shape and size of several men was spotted stretching its many legs across the downs adjoining Epsom racecourse. A man sporting a grubby mac with notebook attached and one eye noticeably larger than the other was in his sixth year of pursuit and at what he thought at a respectfully safe distance.
BLOB angered by years of looking into his rear view suddenly reacted; he unusually stopped, backtracked his mammoth miriapod form at a never seen mercurial speed to subsume his pursuer including the large eye – then let out a burp with such reverberating loudness it awakened Thor and the soundly sleeping fur coat of Stephen Little that stood itself up and jigged about shouting ” I am awake ” where’s HARRY FINDLAY to brush me down.
It was an undulating myth that caught me in the earlies, but it was an 830pm visit yesterday evening to the Quaker shops to buy two bottles of reserve Fleurie to help the turkey on its way – a two pint bottle of organic full milk for morning tea and some vintage red leicester for the armchair and the second bottle. Alas the early shutting puritans have robbed me blind and I am sat here drinking black tea like a convict of old in Nicholas sit with me.
Ground – a picture hardly paints a thousand words particularly in your case.
Write out a hundred times
‘ The quick brown fox jumped over the LAZY DOG ( in BOLD )
My insanity at least has some order to it and can be contained at least by written definition, while yours is uncontainable by description and very much suited to restriction in what they used to call a funny farm.
However your laziness has irked me for the first time, and I am rarely irked, since that last time when Blob told me to remove my jesting words from the brain to the drain – in other words into the dusty bin where Adolf of Hitler ill fame, once won a fixed race twice, jumping his guts out.
I may pass my intended vote over from the fairweathertipster – currently on pot leave to your hating of the grounds and basics of english – the bottomless ground hater !
My escape – well yes 😄
Possibly my political scoop
indicating the possibility of
an ulterior motive for the
early calling of the General election
an event which shocked the cabinet through
to their lilly whites and brought
pelting thunderous inclemency and thunderous skies down
on Drowning Street.
This mixed in with my obsessive work on the Blob was possibly my death knell in that haunted dusty place.Still a few old threads exist which is pleasing.
Exhausted all avenues is the applicable term methinks.
Anyway life goes on in another form which I may expand on at a later date or may not.
Gnats I wish you a good time with the turkey and it’s now quite obvious to me that Yeats must love reading ghost stories.I have made a schoolboy error and posted in the wrong thread.
Whatever happens to him get the Hill in a horse box and down to the nearest sandy beach – it is clear he needs a change of scenery – this is often described as a holiday. Maybe 🤔 Spain ?I reposted my post because I couldn’t see it in the Constitution Hill thread – I now realize why – I have just vaulted the wall.
Ground good to see you are still banging the keys … The quick brown fox jumped over – but with you it’s more often than not the lazy dog for not polishing your posts
– but remember this ; it was the stoic Epic Eric, better known by his family name Epictetas who advised that the vaulting of walls was not the way to achieve true freedom, rather it was to found vis an internal tunnel combined with self discipline – a word I have never given much merit or purpose to on my personal roller coaster, as the wave of life is there to be ridden rather than curtailed.
Treat my undisciplined post as an aberration and a giving way and a pleasant distraction in the doldrums.
I have a lot of nasties brushed under the carpet that surfaced yesterday and prevented me earning a crust or two at Newbury so alas I missed all that action so all I was left with was a fast disappearing Wolverhampton run on that fabulous carpet
.
As for Constitutional Hill I would let the horse decide what future it wants – I know that sounds daft but there are ways of communicating without blah de blah. A deep look in the eyes can often expose the inner soul.It’s sort of cocoa time and we will get to Constitution Hill in a moment but let’s focus our attention on the far more historically momentous Bunker Hill back in June 1775. Would have been summertime and the Redcoats presented themselves as the greatest professional all Blighty fighting outfit in the globe at that time – but were to routed and embarrassingly decimated by a group of untrained yankee hillbilly sharpshooters staked out in them thar hills. The Brits lost a miserable thousand men after three ‘ let’s show em ‘ horseback charges. It was only when the Yankee doodles ran out of ammo that the Anglos managed to restore order and pick a few off.- well 450 not going home souls – if you want a round number. Advice is – don’t ever take on the Hill. Times change and the British army nowadays is a bit deplete of answers and questions indeed and twiddling its trigger fingers and thumbs as the money pours in and the transformation starts.
Bunker Hill was the first birth pangs of the now hugely grown US of A fighting force that has the current capability to present some semblance of balance and world order. One might warn any boat people and any tree dwelling Venezuelans who might be reading this, to get their bins, paddles, and night glasses out.
The first time I saw the horse ‘ the hill’ was on prime time TV I remember going into a physical spasm on account of observing the most perfectly formed equine beast to ever set the racing mind racing and caused in me a kafkaesque transformation into something subhuman in the throes of riga mortis. It was early days in his history, but in a way and to reiterate I remember thinking I have never ever parked my peelers on such a perfectly honed equine shape. The shape won the ensuing horse race but I couldn’t tell you when that was or where. Sad to see this perfectly formed creature twiddling its hooves these days a mere shadow of its former self – but there you go – a mishap or two and things change – even go into reverse. Let’s face it, it can happen to each and everyone of us – even the clever jump ahead Marcus Aurelius’s of this world.
I am too sheep-like to address the Goat of racing hurdlers but cooly make a mention of Make a Stand who won 9 out of his 14 hurdle races all won in his inimitable style and he reportedly acted to like a gentleman at home – whatever that might imply.
He booted through his Champion hurdle in record time and pinged the last with energy to spare if memory serves.
Lived to a ripe old 28 horse years and was active in retirement enjoying a bit of the old showjumping. Nothing odd about that – In a similar vein I’ve tried a bit of yomping myself – but didn’t like the disapproving disappearing foot soldiers as I passed through them on the pavement. I confine myself these days to jumping the queue. It’s a lot safer by a yard and the creepy eyes can be dealt with by a cold unremitting stare.
Game on !
– but remember this ; it was the stoic Epic Eric, better known by his family name Epictetas who advised that the vaulting of walls was not the way to achieve true freedom, rather it was to found vis an internal tunnel combined with self discipline – a word I have never given much merit or purpose to on my personal roller coaster, as the wave of life is there to be ridden rather than curtailed.
.