Cheltenham booze and buffoonery lacks appeal

AM I the only Irishman that went to Cheltenham during Gold Cup week just to drink water? If I’m not, then I’m certainly a member of a very small club and that’s for sure.

What happened was that an American magazine asked me to do articles on two spa towns in Ireland and England. The Irish one was Lisdoonvarna, which was no trouble at all, even if it was off-season. The English one was Cheltenham! I’m not a horsie man at all. It’s a sport that leaves me as cold as the Cotswolds in March. I knew there was a big jumping festival there around Saint Patrick’s Day alright and I knew about Arkle of the previous generations. But that was about it. It was totally by accident that the very serious American photographer and I found ourselves in that chilly town for one day of the festival. It was a dreadful experience.

We did our business and got out of there as quick as we could at the end of the day. I have never been in Cheltenham since. I never will be either. I don’t give a fiddler’s curse who wins the Gold Cup or any other race either. This week brings back unsavoury memories of Cotswold country.