I walked around to the Rodgers house for 10 am so that Tom could drive us to Newmarket. To my mind we didn’t need to leave until 11ish, so secretly I was dismissive of this early start. In fact we arrived only just in time for the first race at 1 pm due to slow traffic and a big queue as we approached the course.
I guessed the course had a dress code which would exclude blue jeans and so I wore some dark jeans and a jacket. As I walked around got Tom’s house I wondered if we might need a tie. Tom found two ties to take, but we never used them. We had bought tickets for £80 each which included lunch and a view right beside the finishing post.
As we arrived we headed straight to the restaurant. I needed feeding after a small and early breakfast. However we discovered we couldn’t sit down until 2 pm for the second sitting. When we arrived at 2 pm our meal consisted of a carvery lunch of a Sunday roast. I sat next to a wood merchant and die hard Ipswich fan who had brought three of his customers from Northern Ireland for a day out at the races. They made most of the noise at our table of 12 and created a positive atmosphere for the meal.
I had a series of bets, each of which failed miserably, not even achieving a place. So by the time of the big race, the 2,000 guineas at 3:35 I was several quid down. I walked over to the bookies to decide which one should receive my gift. I intended to select a horse called Ghostwriter, but just at the last minute I swapped to Notable Speech. Lo and behold as if from nowhere in the pack Notable Speech came through to win at 16/1. Now I had won more than my previous losses. I decided that I would have one more bet and then call it a day. Of course, I lost on that last bet but still came out ahead by about £20.
The 2,000 Guineas is the first classic of the season, which is why Tom was keen on coming here for the day. But Tom was not the only person who wanted to watch the races. The place heaved with spectators, from chaves to toffs. Lots of young girls in their finery, older women still trying to look good despite the change of shape. Young lads in cheap suits and covered in tattoos. Couples in their county gear with affected voices shouting out for their horse and tearing up their tickets as the nag failed to make an impression in the race. As we left before the last race many of the spectators found it much harder to walk in a straight line, the young were much more boisterous and the county crowd had at last loosened their ties.
By counting the number of rows to the fence and the number of trees we found Tom’s car quite easily in this vast field of autos. We saw many a motorist wandering around pressing the remote to try to receive a response from their vehicle. An easy drive home and Tom dropped me off for a quiet night in.