'I don't take any notice of the cancer, I just carry on. I'm not frightened. I was a jump jockey, wasn't I'

Given everything else going on in his day and life, a normal person might have justifiably declined the request for an interview. Fortunately Jack Berry is not now, nor ever has been, a normal person.

He stands at the front door of his North Yorkshire home with a beaming smile, an outstretched hand and an immediate promise to activate the kettle. Inside the house a painter issues warnings about wet walls as he carries out one of the few jobs not tackled with relish by Berry himself. Come the afternoon, there will be a visit to the home of Graham Lee for an inspection of three robotic grasscutters, while Willie Carson is at some point due to arrive before staying the night at Well Close Farm.

It will not be the first occasion Carson has been hosted by his friend of more than six decades. When working as a northern jump jockey in the late 1950s, Berry arranged for the promising young apprentice to spend some time with his then boss, trainer Harry Moore, in Doncaster. "I could see Willie was good and I said we should try to get that kid," says Berry. "He slept with me in my double bed that time. When we invited him to stay tonight, I promised he wouldn't have to do that again."