Back in sync as bolt from the blue puts me in the black
Never noted for intercepting the penny before it hit the deck, I had agreed how handy that would be before realising she was enlisting me in a protest.
We won’t, under any circumstances, be asked to keep an eye on their children.
The den of iniquity never materialised anyway, so I started off by chucking 20 more of the gaffer’s float into Paddy Power’s bottomless online pit.
Then the customary gentle introduction to proceedings from Terry and Dick, sorry Tracey and Brian, on RTÉ. Had things progressed a level or two?
“You haven’t done too badly this week, Brian.”
A wink and a glad eye. “Ah, the price of a good meal Tracey.”
“That’s good to know.”
We hear Jilly Cooper has been Sky-plusing it for inspiration.
Overcoming my queasiness, I was determined to dine out on someone this weekend and the bullish Gleeson seemed as good a bet as any. “If I don’t back Boston Bob, I’ll back nothing else.” And with the ground, reportedly, “the slow side of dead”, Brian had confidence in Synchronised — “a good each-way shout.”
Done and done. A tenner and fiver each-way, respectively. Money spent, I headed down the town to see if the slump in confidence and funds everyone seemed to experience over the last two days had been reversed. Sure enough, the buzz of day one had returned.
I was just in the door of Ladbrokes to see Ruby come up short, much to the dismay of most punters inside. But there were a few too whose sails had been filled by Brindisi Breeze. When one ebullient gentleman returned from the counter shuffling 300 notes or so, the thorny area of tip etiquette raised its controversial head.
“You snake,” was his pal’s reaction, a sense that he’d been kept out of the loop rather overshadowing camaraderie. “You’d blame me if he was beaten.” Come on, lads. Sharing is caring.
Comfortable with loss at this point, I settled in among the swelled crowds for the Gold Cup unburdened by expectation. Synchronised’s white face bobbed unpresumptuously throughout, seemingly uninterested in the business end.
So Kauto Star’s exit demanded most of my attention. At the track, the rippling applause brought to mind Anfield’s respect for opposing goalkeepers, while even 400 miles away, groans quickly gave way to acceptance that this was probably the right time to slip away.
“Owes no one nothing,” one disappointed party reflected.
Synchronised, meanwhile, appeared to be feeling the pace. But then, from two out, whatever injection Tony McCoy dispensed had me on the balls of my feet for the first time this week. The best kind of victory — the bolt from the blue. This was undoubtedly the feeling the woman down the road feared her youngsters wouldn’t be able to handle.
Sure enough, in the jolt of adrenaline that immediately followed, my senses were alive to every possible opportunity to lose money and I couldn’t help notice trap one at Swindon had slipped in from fives to threes. Pouncing on this one-time opportunity, a fiver quickly excused itself and another wound its way down a Cloudy Lane in the Foxhunter Chase, where Salsify appeared to make a lot of people’s day — maybe their week.
Sensing I was steadily reversing out of modest profit, it was time to jack it in. An enjoyable week, some lessons learned, and chicken and chips courtesy of Mr Gleeson.
Running Total: Up €30 on the day, up €11 overall.
