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NH Stables
On The Loose
By Marcus Armytage, courstesy
of The Telegraph
You can tell autumn's here. Every jump
trainer in the country with half an eye for PR is holding an open
day to amuse owners and attract new clients. Last Sunday alone,
'Hen and Terry' opened up at Lockinge, Richard Phillips held one
at Addlestrop and Paul Webber held his at Cropredy. For trainers,
though, they represent perhaps their greatest challenge.
I arrived, slightly late, at Richard's to be met by a loose horse
galloping down the road with its reins between its legs followed,
at a respectable interval, by the screeching wheels of two 4x4s
full of expectant horse catchers. Goes well on the firm was the
overriding impression the horse gave.
It seems the Phillips parade co-incided, in an unfortunate accident
of timing, with a vintage motorbike rally passing through the picturesque
village. The phut-phut-cough of two dozen ancient BMWs the other
side of the hedge doesn't go down well with a lot of fresh racehorses
with the wind up their tails.
News from Cropredy, though, no doubt made Phillips feel better.
Webber had eight loose ones.
"One of them was a horse we hadn't cantered for a year and
a half, so I was particularly pleased at how well he was moving,"
explained Paul.
"Another, a filly, was very pleased with herself. I had visions
of her sliding under the paddock rails, taking out a group of octogenarians,
plastic chairs being splintered in all directions and the vet having
to put down local stalwart David Stoddart – all the while
pretending we were in complete control."
There is a God, and he proved it in the most unlikely of locations
on Saturday night – at a racing charity auction in a Cotswold
village hall attended by Michael 'Corky' Caulfield, racing's resident
sports psychologist.
For those who don't know him, bachelor Corky has, by his own admission,
short arms and long pockets, and his living expenses for the week
(any week, including the one before Christmas) rarely amount to
more than £20. His round in the pub is likely to be the first
– before everyone's arrived.
It is in his good gregarious nature, however, at charity auctions
to get the bidding going by putting his mitt up for the first bid,
safe in the knowledge that the item is either vastly undervalued
or that his bid will be superseded.
Throughout the auction, a pattern, therefore, began to emerge. "What
am I bid for a fortnight in an alpine chalet? Who'll start me off
at £2,000?"
Silence. So the auctioneer dropped his asking price to £500,
Corky put his hand up and the auction was suddenly up and running.
After the serious stuff, like holidays, came the less serious. "Who'll
give me £2,000 for an England rugby shirt signed by Ben Cohen
and his famous uncle George?" Again silence. "Who'll give
me a grand, then?"
It is here that Corky made a fatal error of judgment in his belief
that everyone would want a soiled England rugby shirt. He stuck
his paw up at a grand. Whether everyone thought he'd been `trying'
so hard all night they should let him have it (unlikely) or 'rugby
shirt, worth maximum £100' (more likely) is not clear, but
when the auctioneer scanned the room for another bid. he could not
find it. "Going," he said, "for the third time. Gone.
Mr Caulfield. Thank you very much."
For Corky, it's bread and water for the foreseeable future.
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