Weblog: What do you mean the Wi-Fi doesn't work? The life of a Racing Post reporter
The first shall be last
Better late than never, I suppose.
Due to the vagaries of the rota and the fixture list, my first visit of the year to Thirsk today coincided with their final meeting until Scottish Grand National day in 2013.
My first chance to see how they've edged into the 21st century, with a new children's playground, refurbished paddock enclosure and 'photovoltaic solar panel system'.
The last was installed to take advantage of the government scheme to pay for energy generated and fed into the National Grid and could earn the track £25,000 a year - it cost £90,000 to put in and should last 25 years so you can see why they were keen to get them put in before the spring deadline.
Though there can scarcely have been a worse year for solar energy - the bog of a winner's enclosure in front of the weighing-room hinted that sunshine has been as scarce a commodity in this part of North Yorkshire as everywhere else.
And they've probably had their fill for 2012. There was a decidedly autumnal chill in the air and the heater was on in the press room all afternoon (a room which became a temporary rest home for injured trainers early on as Ann Duffield nursed the head wound she sustained in saddling the ill-fated two-year-old Myanne).
It really was a grey day. By bizarre coincidence the two divisions of the 1m4f handicap were each won by a grey horse who was set to carry 9st 12lb and number one on the racecard - Noble Alan and Stormy Weather. Bet that's never happened before. On a Tuesday. In September.
At the risk of getting a reputation for broadcasting yesterday's news today, I have to pass on something unusual that occurred when I went to pick up winnings after the last race at Wolverhampton - no, it wasn't the fact of having something to pick up that was (very) unusual.
The woman at the Tote window began pouring her heart out to me, bemoaning her love life and telling me about her travails on 'ontheshelf.com'.
Attractive, blonde, fortyish - if she sounds your type, I'll see if I can play Cupid and introduce you when I am back there.