The British jewel that still sparkles in darker times
ALL the top-hatted, the legless, the up, the down, the corporate bore, the mistress, the bishop and the actress could find happy distraction here from real life. And hats off to that.
So, too, could three England cricketers enjoying the Royal Ascot experience: Stuart Broad, as up and at ‘em as Frankel himself, Jimmy Anderson, the most prolific wicket-taker in his nation’s history, and Eoin Morgan, captain of its one-day teams. The trio were going under the moniker of The Racing Cricketers, owners of Elysium Dream, a 50-1 shot in the final day’s opening Chesham Stakes.
Just before Mr J Corbyn of Islington, in the red colours of the Unions and trained by Karl Marx, was taking part in the 4.00 (speech) from Glastonbury, our cricketers instead watched the racing from the Furlong Club in the Royal Enclosure.
Anderson said afterwards they and their fellow owners watched quietly, nervously, as Elysium Dream just missed out on fourth. No shouting. No histrionics. Quiet pride in relative success.
Of course, there has been plenty of yelling on a Glastonbury scale at the royal meeting, racing being a participation sport on both sides of the rail. But as an antidote to the daily turmoil in our troubled land, the last five days have been a bliss of escapism.
The landlady — Her Majesty to you and me — must have seen it all in 65 years on the throne, but how obviously she relished being here to cast aside a thousand cares. ‘I always look forward to my time at Royal Ascot,’ she wrote in her programme notes.
Royal Ascot — a jewel of The Season — is part of what the British do best. There may be doom and gloom everywhere but this place can put up a statement of comforting continuity in challenging times.
Nobody can rub away 300 years of rich history in an instant. Sad to reflect, though reassured to see, armed police were visible inside and outside the premises. But other than that, nothing had changed: the bargain-end Silver Ring crowd and the Royal Enclosure toffs were still dolled up. Flamboyance met orthodoxy at every furlong.
It’s all a terrible frivolity, of course, but isn’t that the point? Our forebears fought so we could party in peace.
For all the Pimm’s, champagne and beer that was knocked back, there was very little trouble that I saw. Yes, one Big Daddy of a man was videoed bare-chested partaking in what struck me as a staged brawl. And one overly refreshed patron threw a pint of beer at jockey Andrea Atzeni on Friday afternoon.
But even these sorts of dubious japery are nothing new. A Prince of Wales — a few generations ago — spotted the Duke of Orleans peering at fish in an ornamental pond and pushed him in to the water. Both the Frenchman’s finery and Anglo-French relations took a little while to dry out.
As for Broad, 31 yesterday, racing is a side-line hobby. The tall fast bowler has no intention of going down the Michael Owen route and opening his own stables. But he was keen enough to feel a deep frisson of pre-race tension. ‘I’m a little nervous,’ he admitted. Not like the first morning at Lord’s, surely? ‘At least you have some control over that.’
Richard Hannon, Elysium Dream’s trainer, was delighted by his horse’s performance. ‘A good temperament,’ he noted.
For the record, Broad expects to be fit for the first Test against South Africa after a tear on the pad of his heel. He will bowl this week and intends to play for Nottinghamshire against Surrey in the Royal London One-Day Cup final next Saturday.
As Broad and Co left, there was Singing Around the Bandstand. Some of the throng stayed, others took their leave to trains or to car park picnics.
These words, corny but not entirely inappropriate, floated across the evening air from the sanctuary called Ascot: ‘I know we’ll meet some sunny day/Keep smilin’ through, just like you always do/‘Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away.’