I enjoy going to Yarmouth. Races. It's fairly easy to get to, parking is easy and it's a friendly small course. Unfortunately, at times the standard of racing isn't that high but that's not a problem as you don't have to compare the horses to others elsewhere but just enjoy what is in front of you.
There was lots of traffic going from Gorleston to Yarmouth and roadworks on Haven Bridge. So trying to get across it was difficult. We tried to do a short cut through Cobholm only to find it went nowhere and had to turn back.
As a result, we only got into the course five minutes before the start of the first race. Now the other threequarters to give her due knows a heck of a lot about horse racing. She was brought up on it in Yorkshire and really does know what she is talking about. So, she quickly picked out a horse for the first race and I quickly put a bet on and it won.
That set us up nicely for the day and we had some other winners as well and came out with more money than we went in with. One of the horses seemed to be a cinch for me. It was the favourite and was ridden by Ryan Moore. It cantered in well clear of the rest of the field.
There are a handful of jockeys that are stronger and better equipped than others. Ryan Moore is one of these. The greatest of all time at this was Lester Piggott or the long fellow as he was known because at 5ft 8 in he was tall for a jockey. Now height doesn't seem to be a problem. Louis Steward who comes from Norwich and may or may not be a relative of mine but probably is looks to be over 6ft tall. Sadly, he didn't win any races and seems to be riding outsiders.
It was Ladies Day at Yarmouth which means that all the Fillies (sorry ladies) dress up to the nines. If they are lucky, they get their photos taken and the best outfit of the day wins £500 which in horse racing parlance isn't to be sniffed at.
The top ten outfits get to go into the parade ring where they are judged. There was considerable humour about the winner. A young lady who looked chic and cool in a classic outfit. But the interview with her didn't quite go as the organisers would have wanted and was something like this.
"Many congratulations on winning our top prize of £500. Tell me about your outfit. Where did you buy the dress from?"
"It's from Debenhams."
Hold on a minute I thought. Debenhams has been closed for quite a few years. The conversation continued.
"Yes I've had it for a number of years."
"Oh what about the stylish hat."
"That was something I had at home."
"Oh well that's amazing. So have you come far today?"
"No I live at Hemsby." (Editorial note Hemsby is about seven miles away).
"And what do you do for a living."
"Well I've just had a baby."
At this point I pretty much lost interest and wandered round to see the prices of the horses for the next race. We left early in order to get out of the car park with ease. It would have taken a long time had we stayed for the last race. We also wanted to have a very slow drive through a village on the way to Norwich that has found out how to stop speeding. There's a 30 mph limit on the road through Filby which is a long strung out village along the back road between Yarmouth and Norwich.
Filby is magnificent. This year it won the Anglia in Bloom competition and the entire village of well over a mile is decked out in flowers. Everyone drives through it very slowly. It really is worth a visit.
Getting back to horse racing, I tried to work out how many British courses we have been to. Well there's Great Yarmouth and Fakenham in Norfolk and Ascot, Aintree, Ripon, Newmarket, Doncaster, Goodwood (in the heavy rain), York, Lingfield that spring to mind. The other threequarters was brought up a couple of miles from Pontefract racecourse but we have never been there.
We have even gone international by going to Alice Springs course in Australia. I have probably told this story in a previous blog so please forgive me for repeating it, but it was one of the most memorable sporting days we have had.
We were staying in a hotel just outside Alice Springs and each day they ran a shuttle bus into town which I seem to remember isn't very large. We saw a poster for the races the following day and asked the hotel reception how far the racecourse was. They didn't have a clue and looked at us as if we had lost our marbles.
Undeterred we got the shuttle into the centre of Alice the next day and decided to see if a taxi driver knew the way.
"Do you know the way to the races," we asked?
Now you have to do the next bit in an Australian accent.
"Strewth mate, that's through the cut."
"Well how far is that?"
"It's well over a mile."
"Can you take us there?"
"Well I suppose I can."
This all seemed quite new to him. Now if you go to a major race meeting in the UK you are likely to get caught up in some quite heavy traffic. In Alice Springs we drove straight up to the racecourse and there appeared to be nobody there. The taxi dropped us off when we spotted a turnstyle.
We went onto the course and was immediately met by a buffet and invited to enjoy some food. Everybody seemed to know everybody and we soon worked out that Alice Springs is so far from anywhere else that we were probably right. The same people would be going to every race meeting, they did know each other, and all the horses knew each other too as they would all be locally stabled and trained.
We were made to feel very welcome and the other threequarters got the winner of every race. I think each race had six horses rather than in this country where there can be any number in each race with the Grand National having 40 runners.
And it got better. We were told that if we ate in a specific restaurant in Alice Springs they would provide us with a shuttle bus and give us 50% off the bill. Sounded like a no brainer. So we did. We had a main course (burger) and then a plate of small portions of every sweet on their menu. We even got the late shuttle bus back to the hotel.
Our winnings covered the taxi ride, the entry, all our bets and the meal after - so a really good and memorable day that will stay with me forever. Enough for today. I didn't really take my camera out with any great enthusiasm so there are just a few very poor photos of Great Yarmouth races. Next time I go and there are less people there I will make a point of taking some decent photos.
Now you'll excuse me if I re-read my copy of A Town Like Alice by Neville Shute.