Two sons of Newmarket living the dream as jockeys in New Orleans

New Orleans is different to everywhere else. It is like three continents got thrown into a washing machine and spun around. One got pulled out, at its bottom edge was a splash of colour, and that was New Orleans.

It is ghost stories and voodoo, horse-drawn carriages and trams, old-world cobbled streets with rows of tiny shuttered houses, cosy corner restaurants and intimate shadowy jazz bars. Music draws you everywhere and around the next corner you may find a ragged old man dancing or a young woman singing, and from one moment to the next you don’t know if you will fall in love or have your wallet taken. I almost fancy saying that if you haven’t been to New Orleans, you haven’t really been anywhere.

New Orleans: Music around every corner

I have flown to this place to visit two sons of Newmarket, born and raised. Now they are here in this urban fantasyland plying their trade as jockeys, far from the eternal heath. And I am here to find out why.