We all tend to put a value on what we haven’t got. Talking to a West Indian friend, Mrs Oakley, a foodie to her core, envied her the fresh pineapple, mangoes and bananas of her Caribbean childhood compared with our post-war canned fruit. ‘Oh no,’ said her friend, ‘it was the rare canned fruit treats we yearned for.’
Through the final weeks of the fading Flat season, I yearn too for the mud-spattered glories of the full jumping season, contests as much about courage as class. The sleek speedsters contesting million-pound prizes at the Breeders’ Cup in Keeneland were a fine international spectacle, but for me there was no comparison with Al Dancer’s win by a nose the same day over Aintree’s Grand National fences or with Frodon’s gutsy all-the-way win in the Badger Beer Handicap Chase at Wincanton.
This winter will be especially intriguing.
Get Britain's best politics newsletters
Register to get The Spectator's insight and opinion straight to your inbox. You can then read two free articles each week.
Already a subscriber? Log in
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in