That's Racing and other stories

I hope nobody read yesterday's Racetrack Wiseguy bulletin.

One looks forward to these great Saturdays full of confidence and then watch it fall apart bit by bit. I'm glad I'd done well yesterday to pay for it. I should have posted the advice for those races instead. Whereas one can enjoy cricket for the sake of the game when one's team gets beat, most football supporters seem to prefer grinding out a grim 1-0 win than seeing their team go down 4-3 in a spectacular thriller. Horse racing's much more serious than that with real cash involved. Even at Cheltenham, which is God's own country, one doesn't enjoy losing. But it ain't over until it's over and the deficit for 2020 is still perfectly bridgeable. And I have more time to sort out my potential embarrassment than Boris has to sort out his.

 

It is Dionne Warwick's 80th birthday today so if you see me walking down the street and each time we meet I start to cry, by all means Walk On By. The Times duly listed the great lady's milestone in their birthdays. But they sometimes give their readers a clue and for Miss Warwick they put, 'singer, I Say a Little Prayer'. If they still have any aspirations to be a reliable organ of record, that could be misleading to retired colonels perusing the birthdays over a port and lemon in Eastbourne Conservative Club.

I'm not disputing that Miss Warwick recorded I Say a Little Prayer but, not for the first time, The Times birthdays makes an odd choice with which to represent those they list.

I know there are more urgent matters to address at present but you let them off with careless attention to detail like that, the next thing you know their racing tipster will be telling us that Goshen will win the International Hurdle. I have sent a suitably dry letter to the editor and we can see if it's considered pertinent enough for publication on Monday.

After my last success regarding Mother's Day I can see a whole new area of writing opening up in old age as I write to newspapers making salient points about minutiae.

 

But, as one thing dissatisfies, one has enough interests for others among them to compensate. Hearing a Telemann Christmas Cantata led me to order a disc of them and, while I was at it, added in a John Eliot Gardiner Bach Christmas Oratorio which I haven't had on a playlist since I stopped playing LP's many years ago. They are both tremendous but it's best to play the Telemann first because somehow the Bach is just so exceptionally spectacular there's nothing could follow it.