Richard Hannon snr: 'Why do you want to talk to me? I'm nearly dead!'

The office at Herridge Racing Stables comes alive at declaration time. There is urgency to the dialogue as late checks are made on a number of fronts, from changeable weather forecasts to available jockeys. The staff play musical chairs, moving between computer screens as the deadline looms. And within this daily ritual of organised chaos, Richard Hannon snr makes himself comfortable in his favourite armchair.

He sits in an adjacent room, surrounded by the trappings of his prodigious training career. Shelves groan under the weight of silverware. There are enough photographs and paintings to fill the Tate. Directly opposite him is a wall of glass, through which he can see an oval paddock that would grace any racecourse. Then he contrives a look of sincerity and says: "I don't miss it one bit."

Hannon still lives for horses but the rest of it might as well be double Dutch. He occupies a parallel universe in which he takes in only what he chooses. It is eight years since he was in the eye of it, after which his son, also Richard, succeeded him. The admin side has become a logistical challenge, especially with all the Covid protocols. Yet still the memories linger. He has enough of those to last two lifetimes.