My mate who owns a pub called me in January and said did I want to buy a 25% share in a racehorse called the Druids Nephew because one of his regulars owned it in partnership with a guy who had died and the executors wanted to sell quickly.
It wasn’t hugely expensive. He knows I’ve owned a few over the years ( including one I called charlton )and I did think about it for a week or so but decided not to do it .
Fast forward 3 months and the horse had won easily at the Cheltenham festival and was now 2nd favourite for the Grand National , so I’m beginning to feel like I made a pretty big mistake . There I am sitting amongst the addickted at hillsborough, not really concentrating on the game from 4.15pm onwards because I have managed to get the grand national text commentary up on my phone. When he takes the lead 5 out,I start to sweat profusely . Obviously I’ve had a good bet in case he wins and my mate is involved so I want him to win – but I suppose when he fell 4 out and it appeared on my text , I was well ( if I’m honest and I know it sounds really mean ) but possibly a little relieved.
Anyway, it allowed me to enjoy our lads night out in Sheffield ( what a great place by the way ) without constantly imagining the ‘ what if ‘ scenario.
14 pints later , a jolly good night ended at 12.30 pm in us 5 middle aged blokes being evicted from the curry house for disturbing the other customers by arguing too loudly amongst ourselves about whether we should remain in the EU or not – that’s what you call proper middle class hooliganism.
Luckily when we returned to our hotel the bar had just shut otherwise we were about to order another 5 pints of strong lager and debate the merits of fox v wiggins or possibly the Kyoto protocol , I can’t remember which