KEEPPUNTING'S  OTHER  HALF



Well given the exciting day that's in it.......no no not the election of the new pope.. The.Cheltenham Festival I am talking about, I thought I may as well add my twopence worth, or two cents worth, whatever....

I could, I suppose, be described as a liberty belle, having lived all my life until seven years ago in Dublin, only a bus ride from city centre. So you are asking "What the hell would she know about horse racing so?".  Fair point but I have lived with keeppunting for over half my life so something must have gone into that curly head of mine.

Keeppunting is not just a punter.  That is just a tiny part of his interest in these majestic beasts.  At the core of his being is a complete passion for THE HORSE. From the magnificent stallion standing tall with an intelligence in his eye that is hard to match to the expectant mare carrying her precious foal   with love and care. Keeppunting never stops to wonder at the miracle of the minute old foal who stretches his matchstick like legs and grasps at the straw in an effort to stand beside his proud mother. He has the height of respect for the race horse, the work horse, the wild and unbroken horses, ponies and not least the lowly rescue donkeys who find sanctuary with  horse lovers like himself.  As he says at the heart of them all is THE HORSE.

Keeppunting has thought me everything I know about the horse. The only thing I knew up to then was that I liked and admirred horses when I saw them.  The only thing I knew about racing was that our household came to a standstill one saturday a year when the Derby took place.  A newspaper with the horses names would be spread on the kitchen table, my mam and granny, complete with aprons on, would call the six of us children round the table. My dad would stand by with a jotter and a pen in readiness for writing down a horse's name next to each of our names.  My granny would pass around a knitting needle, (oh hope Health and Safety and the Dept. of Children don't read this ) and each of the nine of us would close our eyes and take a turn in stabbing the newspaper to see which horse we picked for the draw. My dad would be subsequently despatched to the bookies shop across the road with the money for all the bets......may the best man, or woman win.

I also remember Arkle being mentioned from time to time. I was seven when Arkle won the Cheltenham Gold Cup in 1964.  My memory is of my dad and grandmother, normally two of the most reserved people I have met in my life time, standing and shouting at the black and white tv, "Come on Arkle, go on, go on boy, you can do it,  go on........" I was seven as I said and I actually thought the world would end or the sky would fall if Arkle did not win, but he did and my grandmother cried, just as she did on the day that it was announced that the Great Great Arkle had died.

But, readers, in those intervening years I have been like a sponge, soaking up every bit of info that keeppunting imparted to me.  I am amazed at the facts that I DO know now about the horse.  I know colours like Bay describes brown horses, Grey is the colour of white horses and Chestnut is a whole other conundrum.  I know the names of parts of horses such as withers, flanks.  I can recognise one horse from another, which is a miracle in itself. I now know that there is a difference between Flat race horses and those who are trained to jump Hurdles.  I can pick out a small tidy horse from a larger thicker horse while parading or running. The different look in certain horses eyes, the set of the ears.

The best part those is that I have made the trip to Cheltenham Race Course, accompanied by keeppunting himself.  He made the decision on which meeting we should attend based entirely on my height......  "You will see nothing at all at the march meeting, you will be crushed.  The only hope is the Open in november".  And off we went. I have now been there a couple of  times and hopefully will go again soon.  From the moment keeppunting received onfirmation of our ferry booking and racing badges I was hooked.  The first year we stayed in Gloucester which was lovely and the second time we stayed in a gorgeous hotel in Stratford on Avon.  Shakespeare country.  We also went to see a play at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre.

But to Cheltenham itself now.  We arrived each morn of the races at 10a.m. after a hearty breakfast. There was already a sea of eager punters flocking to the gates.  All dressed in suitable attire.  Brown, green and check heavy jackets and coats.  Style was rife but warm comfortable style.  Everyone wore a hat.   The men wore cord trousers of everycolour between yellow and red. ha ha.  The racecourse itself sits in the shadow of Cleeve Hill.  The country side is pure magic. Having attached my special prepaid badge to my brown wax coat, the badge which would allow me access to certain stands,  I was led into the grounds and down to where a huge tented village spread out among the fields. Inside were trade stands of every kind, food, drink, clothes, footwear, saddlery, leather goods, jewellery, trinkets of high quality. Goods for pets.  My favourite stands were the Country Day stand and the Injured Jockey stand.

I was able to browse these stands over the three days and purchase beautiful christmas cards, painted by injured jockeys.  Cards with fabulous country scenes.  Cards which displayed portraits of the greats....Arkle, Best Mate, Edredon Bleu....many many others.  I walked around to the strains of a fantastic Jazz Band, all dressed as butchers, who entertained for hours down beside the memorial statue of Best Mate.  I watched and took part in the races too.  Placing my little tote bets of two or three sterling pounds and loosing more than I won. But is was a bit of fun and my biggest win was with EXOTIC DANCER, who was ridden by A. P. McCoy or Johnjo O'Neill, in the Paddy Power Gold Cup at the Open meeting.

The cheltenham weather is cold but when you get caught up in the thrill and excitement of the races it is contagious.As I look at keeppunting who is sitting under a portrait of Istabraq, opposite a portrait of Best Mate and surrounded by small pictures of Arkle, Dawn Run and Desert Orchid, all purchased by myself for keeppunting, for the first time in 34 years I realise that THE HORSE has weaved his wily way under my skin too. As my other half says.....keeppunting.