Perfect timing

For the Beach Boys it was California Girls who were sans pareil. For Chas and Dave it was the Girls of London Town. But this column is dedicated to the girls of Merseyside. On Grand National Day at Aintree, it was wet and windy. Umbrellas turned inside out, racecards disintegrated to sodden pulp, rain seeped down inside your collar. But everywhere you turned there they were in their wispy little bits of silk and lace, spray-tanned midriffs frequently on view, dressed nine out of ten of them for a summer evening’s dance floor and still loving every minute of it.

It was a pity that Carrie Ford, the 33-year-old mother who came out of retirement to ride Forest Gunner, trained by husband Richard, could not give them a first female victory in the race to reward their cheery stoicism. But she rode him beautifully to finish fifth behind the impressive winner Hedgehunter. If Forest Gunner hadn’t been running on empty from the Canal Turn second time round, they would have been closer.

Four times Grand National-winning trainer Ginger McCain, who had declared of Carrie that a ‘brood mare’ couldn’t win the National and threatened to bare his backside to the unkind elements if she did, was getting nervous on the second circuit that he might have to fulfil his promise. He had taken the precaution of presenting Carrie with a bunch of flowers before the race, even if it was only on loan before he visited the grave beside the winning post of Red Rum, the horse he trained to win three Nationals and finish second in two more.