BACK TO TOP

NAKED WILLY - JUNE 2004

This is a new and popular feature. It will include all the bits that Editors have stuck their blue pencil through and all the bits that I knew they would have done and which, therefore I have never submitted.

For me the beginning of June means The Derby. This may surprise you, as I have no interest in racing and even less in the Flat. To enjoy racing you have to be interested in a) Horses b) the breeding of horses and/or c) betting on horses. You might think that having spent 25 years as a Master of Foxhounds, I must be interested in Horses – not so. For me, Hunting meant hounds and I am a pretty fair hand with hounds – me being a natural dog man. Being a dog man is a gift of God – you either are or you ain’t and dogs sense it instinctively and will react according. A huntsman has to be a good natural dog man who forms a natural bond with his hounds. This is known as the ‘Thread’ in the trade – it is a natural wavelength that connects your mind to theirs. It is something you are given and you cannot acquire it however hard you try. If you have not got it then you will never make a huntsman as long as you have a hole in your arse – as friend of mine used to, delicately put it. So, for me, Hounds were the thing. A good horseman has the same mental link with his horses. I was never a good horseman. For me, the horse was simply to most effective way of keeping with hounds, but I never had an empathy with the horse. So why go to the Derby? You may ask and I will give you a simple answer – Boisdale. Boisdale is a jazz and cigar club in London’s Eccleston St, hard by Victoria Station. It is also an excellent restaurant, which serves the best of Scottish beef, fish and game. This is not surprising as it is run by the Younger of Clanranald. Not only is the food good, but also he has wines of the best, a wonderful selection of single malts and a serious offering of cigars. The restaurant is shabby chic. I would not think it has had a lick of paint or a new bit of carpet since time out of memory, but that does not worry the clientele – the place is packed out every night and every night there is live trad jazz. It is a place I heartily recommend to any south-sick Northerner, but I warn you, it is not cheap. On the other hand, I have never had a bad meal there.

Every year Boisdale hires an open-topped bus, loads up the jazz band and sets out for the Derby. The crowd and the crack are good. This is helped by the non-stop supply of Champagne wine which flows throughout the day and by one of the finest picnics you will ever fill your face with and a constant supply of cigars. After luncheon I like to take a nap on the bus and I have the strange skill of being able to smoke a cigar in my sleep, at the same time as holding a glass of wine without spilling a drop. This little siesta usually means that I am spared having to watch the racing. I slept through my first two Derbys. This year it was run late, because of the football (Heaven help us!) so I did get a passing glimpse of sweating horse flesh, but another glass of wine helped me to get over it. I was also gruntled because the Dragon Lady, who does horses, extracted a handsome wedge from the weeping bookies, so a good day all round.

So the Barclay Bros have got the Daily Telegraph. This may be good news for the paper, but possibly not for Editorial, where the cracks are plain for all to see. I am not a vindictive man, so I wish all those concerned with my sacking all the good luck that they wished me.

In the same vein, my nearest neighbour is selling up. As he tried to shaft me over a piece of land, I extend the same good wishes to him.

Following on from this train of thought – did you know that it takes 43 muscles to frown, 23 to smile, but only 4 to give someone a smack in the mouth? On which cheerful note, I wish you all a good July