Riders and diners

Not quite nil humanum a me alienum, but I have always been interested in other people’s trades and worlds. That was one reason why I enjoyed the late Woodrow Wyatt’s invitations to the annual Tote board lunch. I always found myself on a table with racehorse owners and trainers. When they realised that I barely knew the difference between a fetlock and a bridle, they became politely distant, until they discovered that I was a political journalist, which made them barely politely suspicious. Politicians they disdained. As for hacks, they only took notice of the ones that they could ride.

That said, I am sure that they would have paid attention to Marcus Armytage, a delightful fellow who writes about equine matters in the Telegraph. I once met him at a dinner party and when the conversation moved to horses it was clear that he knew whereof he spoke. Just when I was on the point of asking him whether he had done much riding, someone said: ‘You know Marcus won the Grand National?’