Cheltenham

With God's own racecourse, a major literature festival, genteel reputation and lots else to recommend, Cheltenham has been a possible retirement destination for a few years. The downside would be the major upheval of moving as well as the knowledge that there's snakes in them there hills. I saw one once about 40 years ago and I'd worry it was still there.
But the next best thing is having a mate good enough to want to go once a year for the quieter but still very classy April meeting.
We knew today would be difficult. Two winners today would have put you in the champion tipster bracket. I was lucky that my D minus homework was mitigated by reserving judgement with scrutiny of the betting market on the day always a crucial factor, so having landed the favourite in the first with proper money, it was bookmar's money that ebbed back to them throughout the rest of another otherwise wonderful day there.
The genuinely lovely champion trainer acceded to my impertinent request for a photo. I said, my mate at work, by which I meant The Professor, only backs your horses.
Bit like me, he said.
Class act.

Unfortunately, the equally great Bryony, the best thing to happen to horse racing since Derek Thompson was sidelined to Fakenham on bank holidays, let me down but you can't have everything. I think it's the last sentence of Flying Finish by Dick Francis,
That's racing.