PETER THOMAS

Weblog: Wandering the world wide web

Aintree: big racing for proper people

DOES anybody out there remember Rag Trade? I do, because it was the last National winner I backed. Or was it Aldaniti? Certainly nothing after Aldaniti, unless I had a few quid on Corbiere, which I think I may have done. I remember backing Durham Edition, twice, the first time when Rhyme 'N Reason got up off the floor to beat him and the second when Marcus Armytage outrode Chris Grant to beat him on Mr Frisk. I never forgave 'Fluffy' Armytage for that. He didn't ride in a very fluffy manner that day, I can assure you.

Anyway, it's largely academic exactly which year it was. They're all in the Eighties, and not the late Eighties, and now we'rein the Noughties, or whatever they're called, and they were a long time ago. In short, I'm not very good with the National.

I backed three this year. I always do. I go 11 months and 364 days promising myself I won't bother this year, and then I weaken and back three. This year, two of them fell at the first: Golden Flight and Himalayan Trail. It wouldn't have been quite so bad, but my missus passed them on as tips to the pupils in her yoga class, when they were only meant to be wild stabs in the dark. Yoga people aren't known for their understanding of the complexities of the gambling world, and despite their alleged Buddhist tendencies, they're not very gentle or forgiving. I can never even contemplate joining a yoga class for fear of being caught in the lotus position by a vengeful yogi with a financial grudge and a savage upward dog.

She didn't tell them to have a proper each-way bet on Comply Or Die, which was my main bet. I thought, two out, that my 20 years of hurt were over, but fair play to Venetia Williams, Liam Treadwell and the bridge-playing lady. Mon Mome was a proper winner and I was very happy to have a proper second and a profit on the race.

It was my first time at Aintree for National day and I'd go back again tomorrow, or rather next year, if you see what I mean. I thought I might struggle, being surrounded by that many Scousers, but it was just like being among normal people at a big race meeting, only a bit more mad and a bitless dressed.

It's full-on racing up there - not hard-core like Cheltenham, not purist like Newmarket and not swish like Royal Ascot, but like big racing for proper people. Lovely.

Next year I plan to backthe winner.