Hippomancy is an ancient art, still alive in the Grand National. My wife's uncle was in Liverpool in 1959 when the workforce at Oxo all backed the horse of the same name: it won at 8-1. He says the town was lit that night.
Well, I backed Golden Flight and down it went at the first fence - though the name is Delphic: will gold flee or take wing? For adherents of cash, Offshore Account stayed the course, but lost ground as the pace picked up, miming the effect of inflation.
On a political note, I was pleased that Eurotrek failed to complete. And we bloggers should not have been surprised to see Fleet Street unseated.
The winner, against all expectation, was Mon Mome (= "my kid"), perhaps a sign that we should be thinking of the next generation, as skewed demographics meets declining GDP. The trainer, Venetia Williams, was sporting a striking golden coat...
1 comment:
I was fast asleep, having consumed too much Beaune last night. Alas, "too much" is much less than it used to be.
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