A step back in time - and still no walking poles

I'm sure many people are familiar with this shop but I had never noticed it before.

James Smith & Sons are umbrella, stick and whip manufacturers. I must admit I did not notice any whips but the shop is full of just sticks and umbrellas.

It is something of a step back in time but the shop seems to be thriving - and thankfully I could not see any of those walking pole things.

You can find this wonderful throwback to a Victorian era in New Oxford Street and learn more at their 21st century website.

Use of video helps cricket but not so sure for rugby

I am no expert on rugby. I went to the wrong type of school. We were actually told off if we played at lunchtime.
That has not stopped me enjoying the World Cup. The Japan win was great for the game - and Brighton - although I suspect South Africa will comfortably qualify for the knock-out stages anyway.
Like most other more casual fans I am still mystified by most of the penalties. The ref blows but it is utter guess work as to why and who against. The toughness of the players is incredible, but also borderline dangerous. The number of injuries is now so high that we are reaching 'something must be done' territory - albeit as a non-rugger bod I have no idea what.
I have though been intrigued by the impact of the TMO (Television Match Official - or use of video technology to you and me) on the rugby matches. It seems to me as a non-expert that in the case of rugby, video technology has a negative effect. Good rugby involves tries - but the TMO tends to result in apparent tries being ruled out. This is the opposite to what has happened in my sport, cricket, where video technology has led to umpires being more willing to award wickets. Ball tracking (Hawkeye) has shown that 'leg befores' (LBW's) are far more common than umpires had previously been willing to award.
This is not an argument for removing the use of technology in rugby to help the ref, sorry Sir, get things right. Rather I think the blazers may need to look at revising the number of points awarded so tries are encouraged. 7 points for a try and only 2 for a penalty anyone?
NB - and by the way I have backed Ireland to win the thing!

The absence of Germans in Greece tests Anglo/Russian relations

One thing very obviously noticeable in Greece this September was the absence of Germans, and their replacement by Russians.
I guess the Germans may be worried about the reception they will receive. The Greek tabloids have enjoyed photoshopping Ang-Gella (that's how I pronounce it - hard second g) onto jackboots and swastikas. It's the German Government who have been most resistant to giving Greece debt relief - despite being perfectly happy to flog endless Mercedes and VW's (complete with fiddled emissions data) to a Greece which bought them on borrowed money.
Not only have the oligarchs arrived, even buying up the Onassis private island, but many more ordinary Russians are forsaking Crimea for Greece.
This has all led to some interesting cultural clashes, and tests for Anglo/Russian relations. In fairness the Russians do not get up early to put towels on the sunbeds, but tensions exist none the lest.
There seem to be English hotels and Russian hotels, English resorts and Russian resorts - and the guests only meet on trips. Then the English guide tends to be a portly middle aged Greek man with an impressive moustache who speaks English; the Russian guide is more likely to be a young Russian woman who speaks Russian (obviously) but little Greek.
The Russians (the men at least) are enjoying their new found wealth. Smoking is compulsory and the rather large bellies result in quite a splash when they flop into the sea. And the Russians certainly love their selfie sticks. It has to be carried everywhere, even swimming. Apparently selfies are now responsible for more sudden deaths than shark attacks. It can only be a matter of time before a Russian gets the double up - killed by a shark while taking a pic with his selfie stick.

Witnessing the unenthusiastic re-election of Syrzia

I managed to get to Greece last week to do my bit for the Greek economy. I have always enjoyed going to Greece, and all the cliches about the friendliness of the Greek people, the welcome in the tavernas, the ancient history and the sheer beauty of both the mainland and the islands are true.
There is no doubt that many of the current problems Greece experiences were self inflicted. The culture of tax avoidance was (and still is) endemic and the public sector is bloated. Every time any Party tried to do the tiniest thing about this, they then got voted out by the Greek electorate and replaced by their opponents who in populist form suggested reform was not necessary.
However there is little doubt that the straight-jacket of the Euro is the primary reason for the continued economic pain. The figures were fiddled to allow Greece to join, and the consequence is that they are locked into an exchange rate completely inappropriate for their economic situation.
Remarkably Syrzia managed to get re-elected whilst I was out there. This was despite totally failing to end austerity and agreeing to a bail-out deal even more regressive than the one they had earlier rejected. 
It seems to me that the two main parties, Syrzia (now) on the centre left and New Democracy on the centre right are engaged in a Faustian pact. Syrzia are bottling public sector reform and ND are bottling agricultural and tax reform - but both agree on staying in the Euro. So although as they now seem destined to achieve just above or below 30% of the vote each, the turn-out in Sunday's election was down to 52% - reflecting more public indifference than anger. 
The old fashioned Communists (sorry if I had an effect by highlighting their posters) got 5%

while the attractively named (for me anyway) Union of Centrists got seats in the Parliament for the first time.

I cannot see how the Greek economy can recover unless there is debt relief. Bail-outs just add to the debt, making it impossible for any Greek Government (left or right) to balance the books. 
But at least the EU flag flies proudly - even at the ancient cave of Loizos. 

Sign up to TTIP for cleaner air

The vehicle of choice for those ever so slightly smug middle class environmentalists has always been the Volkswagon. 
My left wing geography teacher drove a VW Beetle. It seemed to be the law that every VW camper van had to display a a bright yellow sun (not the paper obviously) sticker emblazoned with 'Nuclear Power No Thanks' in the rear window. Even now the Islington (and Brighton) elite makes its way to Glastonbury in their tastefully restored brightly coloured VW dormobiles campers.
But this week we learned those diesel VW cars and vans have been emitting poisonous fumes responsible for 100's of 1,000's of premature deaths from respiratory diseases. Vorchsprung durch technik has killed many more people than nuclear power.
We now know that VW - and most likely other European motor manufacturers - have been conning us. It was not just a case of fiddling the emission tests. Software designers were actually commissioned to create a special sensor to install in the engine which identifies when a test was being conducted. The software fix would then cause the engine to switch to test mode which reduced the emissions. This was necessary because if the engine were to run in clean mode all the time its performance was basically crap.
And once again it took the evil petrol guzzling, gas fracking USA to discover this. Contrary to the impression you would gain from the general anti-American tone in environmental circles, American emission standards are higher than in Europe. VW cooked up this scheme to fool the US regulators. There was no need to do it here because the EU Commission had already been persuaded by the much 'nicer 'European car companies to keep their standards low - ironically partly to meet carbon emission targets. Bizarrely many in Europe - including our own UK Government - had concluded that switching from petrol to diesel would help tackle climate change.
So next time you hear dire warnings from the anti-TTIP crowd just remember that if we are forced to abide by American emission testing standards for our cars, we might just end with cleaner air and fewer deaths.

As They Cross Wilson Avenue

Graham Green must take most of the blame. Brighton Racecourse 'enjoys' a reputation for a certain roguishness on the back of the depiction of razor gangs and racketeering in his most famous novel Brighton Rock, and the iconic Boulting Brothers film based on it.
In actual fact the events portrayed in Green's book took place at the long closed nearby Lewes racecourse, but the image has stuck.
15 years ago there was every chance that Brighton racecourse would suffer the same fate as Lewes. Long neglected by its owners, Brighton Council, it was unloved, unsafe and basically a dump.
Under the inspirational leadership of local racing fan Phil Bell - now gone onto to great things at Chepstow - the course was smartened up and has enjoyed something of a revival.
To be honest the course is never going to be Ascot but its future looks secure and a day watching the racing there is always interesting.
Last Monday was a day for real racing fans, not the stag/hen, family fun, ladies' day crowd which Brighton, along with many other courses, try to attract in the summer.
Autumn had set in, and the wind swept across the paddock. The betting jungle was sparsely populated.

Brighton is a unique racecourse, uneven with twists and turns, which favours course specialists. One of my first successful betting strategies was to follow a horse called Belper, who had only one eye. He could not win anywhere except Brighton, where he could fix his good eye on the running rail and find his way to the finishing line.
In all races except those over the shortest distance of 5 furlongs, the horses have to gallop across a road. This can be scary, especially when the wind is tugging at the straw matting put down to cover the tarmac, and the rain makes it as slippery as ice.
A tradition amongst the commentators is to mention this road in every commentary, making Wilson Avenue the second most famous road in racing folklore (after the Melling Road at Aintree obviously).
Inevitably with the inclement weather changing the going, the results on Monday proved to be a bookers' benefit with a host of long odds winners.
Highlights for me were seeing the veteran horse Megalala, 14 years old and effectively drawing his pension in horse terms, go into the stalls without any help from his jockey or stall handlers. He finished 3rd, beating horses over 10 years younger than him.
Most Brighton racedays include a seller. These are for the worst horses in training, and involve the winning horse being sold at auction immediately after the race. The great sports journalist, Ian Carnaby, sponsors a 'truly awful' selling race at Brighton every year, and in days gone by used to finish his day out in town with an evening listening to the late Rockin' Billy playing Billy Fury discs in Preston Street.
Brighton racecourse still has its many detractors. The chances of it ever hosting a Derby trial (eminently sensible because if a horse can handle Brighton it could certainly deal with the contours of Epsom) again are probably long gone. It suffers vandalism, the going can be very firm in the summer, the travellers were still allowed to camp at the 2 furlong poll this week but it remains a cracking day out.
Oh and even if the getting out stakes (or in my case the getting in deeper stakes) does not work out there is a chance of a rainbow to guide you into town afterwards.

Brighton marks (out of 10)
Welcome/friendliness 8
Atmosphere 5
Betting ring (size, competitiveness) 5
Racecard (cost, quality) 6
Queues for bar 8
Viewing 7
Standard of racing 4

Total (out of 70) 43
Punting success - lost

Brian Close - not by any means the greatest but possibly the bravest

Growing up as a cricket mad teenager Brian Close was a distant but heroic figure to me.

I was 15 years old when he was recalled to the England side in 1976. He looked to me like a very old man; bald, wearing what seemed to be a white Marks and Spencer cotton mix shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and no obvious protection to face the best fast bowling attack in history. 

Actually he was 45 years old. He wore those pretty useless Tony Greig batting gloves and some pads and that was it. The over Michael Holding bowled to him at Old Trafford was probably the most intimidating 5 minutes of sport there has ever been.

Throughout my cricket life we always talked of Brian Close. Whenever anyone was hit by the ball Brian Close was cited. Normally as you collapsed in agony someone would point out that 'Brian Close would not even rub it.'

Close pioneered fielding at short leg, less than two yards from the batsman. Again this was pre-helmet and when the batsman connected properly he would allow the ball to hit him. It may be apocryphal of course but the story which always gets repeated over post match nostalgic chats was of a time that the ball from a full blooded hook shot hit Close on the shoulder and bounced up and was caught by the fielder at gully. As he walked off for lunch a concerned female spectator said, "Mr Close. Well done but you must be more careful. What if the ball had hit you on the head?"

Close replied, "Madame then he would have been caught in the covers".

Looking back now with the benefit of hindsight I realise that Brian Close was not actually a great cricketer. He was picked first for England aged 18 but never truly established himself in the side. But he was obviously an incredible character. I think he was probably a bit scary but as a captain he got the best out of the promising youngsters in the Somerset team - including cricketers in the Sirs Viv and Beefy who went on to be greats.

As an administrator back at Yorkshire Brian Close went on to fall out with Geoff Boycott, which in itself suggests sound judgement!

Brian Close's death was announced today. He was 84 and I gather - in true obituary speak - he lived life to the full. RIP Brian Close - maybe not the best but certainly the bravest.

The Glamourising of Crime Continues with the Latest Kray Twin Thugfest

I don't like the title Legend given to yet another film based on yet another book about the Krays.
Glamourising crime has proved to be a useful earner for both the film and publishing industry over the years. It always surprises me that a store as right-on as Waterstones has a whole section of its shop devoted to crime. Not fiction but fact based books celebrating the lives of various hardmen.
It was a former armed robber who hit the nail on the head for me. He described how he had wasted his life up till the age of 40, spent more years in prison than free and missed his chidlren growing up. He had eventually turned his life round and now worked with youngsters on the periphery of crime, persuading them to make better life choices than he had. This man was scathing about Guy Ritchie 'a posh ponce who glamourises crime in his gangster crap films. I'd love to meet him and tell him the damage he does.'
At least this latest attempt by the British film industry to cosy up to crime lords made some effort to show the Krays for what they were. There was no 'old ladies could walk the streets, strike a light me old china, Ronnie and Reggie, salt of the earth' urban myth rubbish. Fact is Reg Kray was a wife beating thug, and Ron Kray a psychopathic peodeophile - and this just about comes out in the film. 
Oh and Tom Hardy, the actor who played both Kray twins, did a very good Michael Caine impression. Still feel guilty for watching it though.

Brighton to Hastings without 20 minutes in Eastbourne please

Driving to Hastings from Brighton is a nightmare. The road network is crap - and even if you go out of hours it will take you 90 minutes.

Surely then the best option is to go by train. There are 3 an hour - and the Ashford diesel misses out the halts (although having only 2 carriages means it's packed quite often).

The problem if you are going to Hastings is that you have to visit Eastbourne effectively twice. You can even get off at Hampden Park to have a sneaky fag and get back on the same train again (having walked across the bridge).

On first thoughts the obvious answer is to campaign to get scrap the Eastbourne visit? But realistically I guess a connection will not be built and I suppose some people do want to go to go Eastbourne to visit their elderly relatives.

The real problem is that you end up sitting in the Eastbourne station (nice as it is) for 15 mins. Scrap this wait and could get to and from Brighton and Hastings in less than an hour - even at rush hour.

NB - Heartily recommend Hastings for a visit. A town which has been on its uppers for years shows plenty of signs of reviving. The Old Town is an unpretentious version of what Brighton's North Laine used to be like.

What if Barbara Castle had succeeded?

Matthew's Parris BBC Radio Programme Great Lives is one of my favourites.

This week the subject of the discussion was Barbara Castle - it's here on iplayer - and for someone with more than a passing interest in politics it was fascinating.

I have always had something of a soft spot for Barbara Castle. As a very young police officer standing guard outside the Labour Party Conference in Brighton I met her briefly.

This was before the Grand Hotel Bomb, so the security round party conferences was considerably more relaxed than the guns, compounds and secure zones you have now. Indeed the main policing effort was not really about protecting the conference; rather it was policing the various large demonstrations the conferences attracted.

Barbara Castle was by now a member of the European Parliament, and to me anyway had a rather fearsome reputation.

She came up to me and asked for directions to a local restaurant, and then spent 5 minutes chatting with me and a colleague, thanking us for the work we were doing and asking us about our jobs. She could not have been nicer or more gracious.

The Great Lives programme reminded me of Barbara Castle's successes - equal pay for women, the breathalyser, seat belts, motorway speed limits - which were all introduced against often sexist opposition. It was always pointed out by those opposed to the breathalyser that she was a woman who did not drive. Now it is almost impossible to believe that such things did not exist.

Her one great failure though was what struck me - and prompted me to think about what might have been. 

It was already clear under the Wilson Government of the 1960's that the British trade unions had got out of control. The film 'I'm Alright Jack' and the sitcom The Rag Trade - with its catchphrase 'Everyone Out' - were less comedies and more like documentaries.

Barbara Castle tried to change this with 'In Place of Strife', a trade union reform bill containing what would now be considered uncontroversial provisions to introduce ballots before strikes could be called and 'cooling down' periods to encourage negotiations.

In the face of determined opposition from the trade unions, and the treachery of Jim Callaghan, Barbara Castle failed to get her changes through. Instead Harold Wilson caved in and agreed 'solemn and binding' agreement with the TUC that the trade unions completely ignored. With each new walk out dear old Solomon Binding found his name taken in vain on a weekly basis.

After another ten years of strikes resulting in Britain becoming the 'Sick Man of Europe' it fell to Mrs Thatcher to successfully introduce trade union reforms and restore sanity to the work place.

You can never be sure of the answer when playing 'what if' about history but I am certain Barbara Castle was right with In Place of Strife. If she had succeeded then it is surely conceivable that the winter of discontent would not have happened, and the result of the 1979 election would have been very different.

Beer is Art with Smashed Aubergine

Apparently beer is art - or so it says on the outside of the new BrewDog 'pub' in Brighton.
Located in what at one time was called 'Hector's House' (presumably as in 'you are a silly old Hector'), it is handily placed for Brighton nick and the new development of student homes at the old fruit and veg market in Circus St.
I donned my baseball cap (backwards), bumster trousers and Lyle & Scott pumps and popped along last night with an old friend who is a shareholder in Brew Dog through their, actually rather impressive and successful, crowd funding scheme. This entitled him to a 10% discount, so he obviously got the rounds in. 
On walking in it was immediately obvious that we had reduced the average age of the customers somewhat, as well as reducing the beard quotient significantly. Incidentally what is it with white blokes with dreadlocks? It always seems a bit odd to me but if ever you want to find out then the Brighton BrewDog is a good place to ask.
I admit I am no expert but as I understand it BrewDog has pioneered 'craft' beer. This is not real ale but instead a keg beer (remember Watneys) which it is socially acceptable (unlike Watneys) to drink.
There is certainly a wide selection of brews to choose. You can drink 'Nanny State' (Nigel Farage drink your heart out!) which is the low alcohol version, or the rather strong 'Pilot Brew'  (surely Nigel's actual tipple) at a rather pricey £3.60 for a half.
I settled on the Dead Pony Club (3.8% so ideal for a session) and have to say it was pretty good.
The pub itself is inevitably a bit pretentious (i.e. it fits Brighton rather well) with what seemed to me to be a series of cages for you to sit in whilst drinking. It would ideal as the backdrop for the next Amnesty International fundraiser.
No one was eating food but the menu did not suggest pub grub. The aubergine was served 'smashed' for some reason and the duck 'air dried' apparently. Certainly no pickled eggs, not even crisps.
In fairness there were no fruit machines, no music and no TV's. 
My verdict? I think it will do ok, although they may have to adjust their prices if they are to attract the nearby students.
Anyway after a couple of Pilot Brews we adjourned to the King and Queen for a nice pint of Harveys and to watch the cricket on the big screen. Just as it was reaching a conclusion this was switched to the football. The manager reported most customers wanted to see if someone called Rooney could score a goal - the bastards! May as well have stayed in the Beer is Art for a plate of smashed aubergine.

Body surfing - in Devon - in October

On Sunday over breakfast I received an email from a very old and dear friend. We are meeting up soon for a holiday and have been making plans for what we will be doing - a ramble, a beer, a pub quiz, a chat over old times and even a visit to National Trust properties.

I'm afraid I nearly splurged out my corn flakes as he's suggested that we go 'body surfing' in October, in Devon.

Obviously initially I refused but after 24 hours it appears I may have to reconsider. I have ordered my wet suit  (from Asda) and am practising breathing in.

Following my leader

Clarifying the rules on brown sauce

I like to think I am not a fussy eater but there are some things which do matter. 
Last week I was offered Co-Op own brand brown sauce in one of those plastic upside down squeezee style bottles. 
I happen to know some people that refuse to shop in the Co-Op because 'its profits go to the Labour Party', but I would not allow politics to get in the way of my shopping habits. My first job was with the Co-Op (I was made redundant!) and I have continued to shop with them because I think they provide a different form of competition to the other supermarkets.
However that support cannot extend to something so wrong as its own brand brown sauce.
Surely everyone knows that the only brown sauce which can be put on your chips in polite company is HP in a glass bottle - and it must never be kept in the fridge.
Harold Wilson knew this.

Graham

NB - I have been asked to clarify the rules on tomato sauce as well. These are actually not so strict. Tomato sauce - or red sauce as it can also be known when its origins are questionable - is best served in a large plastic imitation tomato on a formica table in the caff. Eating tomato sauce at home is only for children. For this Heinz is best but own brands are ok - even the Co-Op budget version can be used. Hope that helps.

Donald Trump - Vice President?

I concede I may have been watching too many back to back episodes of House of Cards (American version) but I was intrigued by Donald Trump's pledge to not run as an independent if he fails to win the Republican Party's nomination for President.
Trump has courted the Democrats in the past, and his loyalty to the GOP has been questioned - not least by his repeated failure up until today to rule out running Ross Perot style.
It is widely believed in Republican circles that Perot's candidacy led to George Bush Snr's defeat at the hands of Bill Clinton in 1992. 
So what has changed the Donald's mind? Could it just be that he is enjoying politics so much that he is going to carry on even if he does not secure the Republican nomination? 
It looks certain he will poll well, and he commands support from sections of the American electorate that the GOP have not connected with since Reagan.
I therefore predict Jeb Bush will secure the Republican nomination next year, and that he will invite Donald Trump to be his running mate.
The Donald for VEEP - the tip you read here first.

45 Years - try not to snore if you nod off

Yesterday a Guardian reading friend persuaded me to see one of those films that Guardian readers have to pretend to enjoy.
I am always one for new experiences so having checked the movie was not in French (that would be a step too far) I went along to the Duke of York's and embraced the experience. Refreshingly there was no Odeon hot dog and pop corn, rather it was coffee (fair trade) and flap jack (organic) that we guzzled before the main feature. You could even take a beer (craft) in if you wished but it was a bit early for that.
The film I saw was 45 Years, starring  Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtney. They play a married couple in the week leading up to the celebration of their 45th wedding anniversary. This is disrupted when Geoff (Courtney) receives a letter telling him that the body of his long dead girlfriend (Katya) has been found perfectly preserved in a melting Swiss glacier. Geoff and Katya had been in love and planning to marry when she fell and was presumed killed in a climbing accident. Geoff went on to meet Kate (Rampling) but had never told her about the previous relationship in any detail, and their plans to marry.
It seems that Geoff and Kate have had a reasonably happy marriage. There are hints at tension over their childlessness, and it seems they filled that hole with a series of rather fierce looking alsatians german shepherds. Max, the current one, is taken for long brooding walks by Kate in the bleak Norfolk countryside when she needs needs to get out of their isolated house.
In truth not a lot happens. Geoff tells Kate a bit more about Katya, revealing he was her next of kin and that she wore a wooden ring so they could pretend they were married. Kate broods about this, stares into the distance and the mirror a lot, and reflects on whether this secretiveness by Geoff had undermined the basis of their marriage.
The younger Tom Courtney used to play the good looking working class hero in those black and white 'It's Grim up North' type British films made in the late 1950's and early '60's. He's certainly no longer a sex symbol in this (unless baggy grey white y-fronts are your thing) and to me does not quite convince in the role. 
In contrast Charlotte Rampling is compelling in a slightly over-arty way. She manages to be both elegant and harsh, and it's possible to see her as one of those teachers that you remember with respect and affection (even if at the time you were rather scared of them). The local postman is a formal pupil and he refuses to call her by her first name.
The plot focuses on whether Geoff and Kate can hold it together for the week through to the celebration. I will not spoil things by revealing if they do.
You will gather that I went to see the film with low expectations. In fairness these were exceeded and I would not want to put you off. It's based on a short story by David Constantine called 'In Another Country.' At times it seemed the title of the film had been changed from that of the book to describe the length of the film rather than the marriage.
Being an arty film it was inevitable that references to the dangers of climate change and the evils of Thatcher were crowbarred into the plot. It seemed to have been filmed at the end of the winter so I never quite understood why the glacier in Switzerland should have melted at that time of year - surely even with global warming this would have occurred in the middle of summer? And Geoff and Kate had a remarkable number of friends at the anniversary celebration considering what a grumpy couple they appeared to be.
The best bits for me were when Geoff and Kate talked about things other than their marriage. Geoff reluctantly attended a work reunion and his reminisces from that had echoes of Kingsley Amis and the Old Devils - especially the story of 'Red' Len (or Len-in) as they called him who now regaled them with stories of his villa in Portugal and his banker grandson.
The film captured the tensions caused by jealousy and things unsaid but in a slow meandering and borderline pretentious way. Oh and a bit of advice please do concentrate - I thought I did but it turns out I missed a crucial bit when Kate climbs into the attic and looks at some of Len's photographs of Katya. I was watching closely but looking for the wrong thing!
I give the film 4/10. It was ok but if I am honest I preferred Mission Impossible 3 and the Man From Uncle. I am though looking forward to Tom Courtney's next film, Dad's Army, where he seems well cast to play Corporal Jones.

Graham Cox

NB I didn't read the review in the Guardian by its (and the BBC's) resident film critic Mark Kermode until after jotting down my thoughts. It's unsurprisingly a good deal more positive than mine, and no doubt more authoritative. Don't let me put you off therefore. Go along and see it for yourself - just make sure you choose a comfy seat and don't snore if you nod off.

Shrewdies followed Hayley

My sadness at hearing the best woman jockey, Hayley Turner, is to retire at the end of the season is countered by the knowledge that she is is to end race riding in one piece.
It is with good reason that jockeys are one of the few professions who do their job followed by an ambulance, and Hayley had a really nasty fall a couple of years ago in which she received very serious injuries and was fortunate to not be killed or paralysed.
I was lucky enough to see Hayley riding at her very best, when in my judgment she was amongst the best five jockeys in the country. 
Happily Yarmouth racecourse reopened this week. The track used to have perfect going, with a good covering grass onto top of the sandy soil. As a result the top Newmarket trainers often would give their best young horses their first run at the Suffolk track.
The September festival was the highlight of the year and I made a special trip to see some hotpot maiden two-year olds run at the meeting.
Hayley Turner was riding there and outshone the other jockeys, riding a stack of winners on both fancied and unfancied.
Being near the HQ of racing Yarmouth has always had a knowledgeable crowd and it was obvious from the affection shown to Hayley that they knew how good she was. Her walk from the weighing room to the paddock saw her negotiate an obstacle course of well-wishers, autograph hunters and cynical gamblers with admirable good humour.
Over the years I won more money than I lost backing horses partnered by Hayley, but I do not think it is my pocket talking when I suggest for a couple of years she may have been the best of the lot.
The advantage for the punter was that still within racing there is a prejudice against female jockeys, especially that they are not 'strong in a finish.' This gave shrewd punters (and even unshrewd ones like me) a slight angle as her horses often went off at a price a little bit higher than if they had been ridden by a (often less skilled) male jockey.
So good luck to Hayley, thanks for the wins - and it would be nice to see her have a final winner at this year's Yarmouth September festival on its newly laid track.