The turf: Ups and downs

The more unctuous of vicars tend to assure us through December that ‘the true joy of Christmas lies in giving’. There are moments, however, when one’s faith in such advice is sorely tested. After trawling most of the West End, Mrs Oakley had this year secured the ultimate outfit for Grandchild No. 5. Unfortunately, when we moved house in early December, the package containing dress, blouse, headband, etc. disappeared.

Ultimately, there was no option but to search through the remaining 53 unopened boxes of books, which have been stowed in an icy cold, unlit outhouse until we build shelves to accommodate them. The removers, we felt, just might have tucked the item inside one. In box 52, and I kid you not, I found the precious parcel. And was virtue rewarded on Christmas Day? Was it, hell. Instead, we got the tantrum to end all tantrums from Grandchild No. 5 because she hadn’t been given the same outfit as her sister. Those of the female gender start early.

It was Grandchild No. 2, though, who reminded us how life moves on. On Christmas Eve she remembered that she had forgotten to ask Santa for something essential. ‘It’s a bit late,’ said her mother. ‘But you could try writing him a letter.’ ‘No worries,’ said Grandchild No. 2, coolly. ‘I’ll text him.’

At long last the weather has relented enough to allow racing to move on, and we saw a star of the future for sure at Cheltenham on New Year’s Day in Nicky Henderson’s Oscar Whisky. The ability to quicken is the mark of a really good horse and when Barry Geraghty asked Oscar Whisky to do that after the last hurdle he moved effortlessly into another gear and lost the others.