Sweet Thursdays With Jim And John

A recent race at Newmarket was sponsored by the brewers Adnams, the full title being Adnams Pink Gin Gallop Handicap. I’ve kept up with the wine and spirits trade after spending several years in the industry but I hadn’t noticed how many ‘made up’ pink gins had appeared on the market. The traditional drink was gin with about six drops of Angostura bitters added, which made it pink. Angostura was believed to relieve sea-sickness back in the 1800s.

I have very fond memories of the equine Pink Gin, who went with Jim Old when he joined Nigel Twiston-Davies several years ago. Showing all of his commendable patience, Jim had him ready for a steeplechase at Wincanton soon after the turn of the year in 2019. Pink Gin made all and was still three lengths clear at the line, tipped and backed by this humble scribe. Celebrations were long and loud.

Jim told me a lovely story recently. When he turned his hand to training after a very successful career in the saddle, Scobie Breasley trained mostly ordinary horses but had his share of winners around the midweek tracks. One day things went well for him and he and his wife May were invited into the stewards’ box for a drink. Along the way, one of the officials congratulated May and said he assumed a nice little touch had been landed. May was startled. “Oh no,” she replied. “Scobie hasn’t had a bet since he stopped riding!” Priceless.

More and more these days I think of travelling around the country, visiting places which have a connection with racing. Or put another way, I’d like to add to the list of hostelries which I visit regularly before or after the afternoon’s sport. The ones I already know well include the Anglesea Arms near Goodwood and the Fox on the Downs opposite the two-furlong marker at Brighton. The Irish woman who runs the latter once ordered up some Courage Directors bitter for the guests before my selling race and it was pure nectar. Sadly, Directors seems to have disappeared now, not just at the Fox but everywhere else, as well.

One of my main objectives is to go to York once more and stay at the Fairfax Arms in Gilling East (Black Sheep bitter), with the little stream trickling past the front door and the model railway up the side road. Trouble is, I’m running out of people. Either they’ve passed on or can’t make the trip because of time and distance. The last time three of us went up we even managed a day at Beverley before the Dante meeting. It was the year A Horse With No Name bolted up in the long-distance race on the Knavesmire and I bored everyone by singing the America hit from many years ago. She was a very good mare and you may recall she won later on at Cheltenham, as well.

Talking of pubs by a river, the Greyhound at Stockbridge has the Test actually coursing through its garden. This is irresistible and I was strongly tempted after a Southampton match a while back  –  this was just before we started losing nearly every week  –  but it’s still the better part of two hours to Bristol. There are lay-bys all along that stretch of the A34 and the lorries making the journey from Southampton Docks to the Midlands and beyond make full use of them. In fact, after an evening match on one occasion I thought some of them had bedded down for the night, which seemed perfectly safe and reasonable.

I stopped the car for the most obvious reason (getting old, you know, powers of restraint not what they were) and heard quite distinctly the strains of Borodin’s Second String Quartet emanating from one of the cabs. A lorry driver with Radio 3 on, or possibly Classic FM. I wondered if he knew it would gradually give way to Baubles, Bangles and Beads, which was pompous of me because I dare say this regular on the Southampton to West Brom run knew far more about the composer than I did. Borodin was also a first-class chemist and left a few pieces unfinished, though there was plenty in Prince Igor to make Kismet one of the most popular West End musicals of all time. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind being a stranger in paradise if they had Courage Directors or Black Sheep there. You never know.

I believe I travelled the way I know when Pink Gin won at Wincanton, though there are locals in Nailsea who tell me about various short cuts, most of them involving Bruton one way or another. I shall investigate further, especially now that I know that revered American author John Steinbeck stayed for six months back in 1959 and said that he ‘felt more at home in Bruton than I ever have anywhere.’ If you’re looking for something rather more light-hearted than East of Eden, you might try a brisk hike to Batcombe and settle down with a copy of Sweet Thursday in the Three Horseshoes. A drop of pink gin wouldn’t go amiss, either. Made the traditional way, of course.

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Ian Carnaby