This year, I’ll toast my win with British fizz
Ihope that, like me, you’ve all been casting an eye over the runners and riders pawing the turf and foaming at the mouth as the big day looms.
No, not the line-up of wannabe post-brexit PMS – personally, I’d have every last one of ’em made into glue – the contenders in this year’s Grand National.
It’s a big day in our house. Mostly because I usually win. Last year, Tiger Roll romped home at 14/1, netting me £140.
In 2014 and 2015, I backed 25/1 outsiders Pineau de Re and Many Clouds and banked £250 a pop.
Speaking of pop, apparently English sparkling wine is set to overtake proper champagne at Aintree this year. No, that’s not a tip, just a reflection of our changing palates and global warming.
Anyway, long before I toast
the winner, I have to choose it. How do I do it? I always place an online bet for every family member as otherwise they struggle to care, so that’s an
initial outlay of four tenners.
I variously pick horses according to recent form, jockey and their name. Which is to say, it’s as random as an office sweepstake, although I am partial to being swayed by a smart sheepskin noseband.
Family and neighbours gather in our sitting room for drinks and snacks (them) and shouting (me).
I have to confess I do yell and fist-pump a lot. Think of the Cecil Beaton-designed Ascot scene in My Fair Lady, but with fewer hats and a lot less lady.
Everybody has a slip of paper – snipped from these very pages – giving the name and colours of their mount. As the also-rans fall at Becher’s Brook, those little bits of paper are screwed up and flung into the bin.
Then I will bellow myself hoarse and leap about in extremis until they reach the home straight, whereupon I will collapse on to the sofa, drenched in sweat, flanks heaving when the winning steeplechaser finally crosses the line.
So please don’t begrudge my winnings – I will have earned every penny.