The turf

All's right with the world

Robin Oakley

Chaps don't make passes at girls who wear glasses, the poet once told us. But that doesn't necessarily stop the girls in glasses, as I discovered buying a drink at Kempton on Charisma Gold Cup Day. A mettlesome lady in a smart suit, hefty pearl bracelet and red bag turned from the bar and declared, 'Oh my God, I could drown in those beautiful eyes. You must let me tell you your fortune.' As I looked behind me to see if Cary Grant or Paul Newman

had joined the queue she said, 'No, I mean you.' A gentleman, it seemed to me, could do no less than accept her offer, with the proviso that the fortune-telling included her selection for the next race.

Pausing only to exploit the gap at the bar, with envious dropped jaws to either side of me still watching her self-confident exit, I seized a fortifying brandy and joined my new friend, to discover she was slightly less discriminatory than I had hoped. Another fifty-something, heavier than me and in a leather jacket, had been selected for the fortune-telling treatment too. She obviously always backed each-ways.

Feeling my jacket lapel, Violet — as we shall call her after her chosen colour of eye-shade — declared: 'I have you down for a successful businessman, well, reason- ably successful anyway, though perhaps a bit of a fly-by-night.' (I shall have to look again at my second-best racing suit. Until that moment I had always seen it as a taste- ful compromise between the hairy tweed set and the sort of thing you wear when you're not quite sure how formal an out-of- London occasion might be.)

As the analysis continued it became apparent both that Violet had no idea what was even running in the next race and that she was less inclined to predict the long term than to try to shape my immediate future. As she explained she had connec- tions with the course medical team, Leather Jacket muttered ungallantly in my ear, 'I think she's into mouth-to-mouth resuscitation too.' So, explaining that I was a happily married man of 33 years and pleading the need get my bet on in the Cesarewitch, I left them to it, with Violet telling Leather Jacket, 'Well, now you look to me like a boy who likes a bit of fun ... '

Thank you anyway, Violet, for making a middle-aged something happy by picking him out in the parade ring. I had never expected to have personal confirmation of anthropologist Kate Fox's theory that race- courses are natural breeding grounds for flirtation. And you may have brought me luck because Top Cees did duly oblige at 7-1.

In fact it was one of those rare days

Doctor! Question: Can using certain electronic appliances become addictive?'

when everything went right. Last week I mentioned Simon Dow's useful chaser Chiefs Song. Three times previously Chiefs Song has appeared at the Charisma meeting and three times he has won. He duly came out and won the first at 4-1 and next year they will rename the Ferry Boat Chase after him. It was a good perfor- mance giving Josh Gifford's Sky Cab 20 lbs but Simon won't get madly ambitious with Chiefs Song, who is probably some 7 lbs-10 lbs below top class. What he has got, as his trainer says, is courage, strength and soundness, and his consistent record at Kempton is a tribute to horse and trainer.

Reckoning the tight right-handed Kemp- ton track to be one of those which particu- larly suits the course specialists, I then backed last year's winner Bank Avenue to take the Charisma Gold Cup again, which he did at 8-1. From four out there was no doubt of the result. Mark Pitman's horses really are in cracking form and you know when one of his goes to a racecourse it is fit to run.

To comments that Bank Avenue looked a little heavy in the parade ring the trainer replied, 'He looks heavy but that's his shape. You feel him and he's hard. He's not missed a day's work. Anyway, you don't have to run them looking like skeletons. I want something to work with for the rest of the year.'

After my encounter with Violet, I was then hauled out of the crowd by racecourse interviewer Mike Cattermole to offer a few thoughts on life in general and the next race in particular across the racecourse intercom. Tipping on the spot before sever- al thousand spectators is a mug's game and I could not believe my luck would keep running. Fortunately, it did when I made the case for Jim Old's Chai-Yo to win a tricky race, commenting that the horse owed me a few bob after running so impressively first time out last season and then disappointing several times when car- rying the Oaldey cash thereafter.

'We don't owe you any more after that,' said beaming owner Nick Viney, extending a hand after Chai-Yo's victory at 9-4. A grinning Jim Old explained that Chai-Yo has to have fast ground and last year had been a permanent ,bog. He blamed himself for running the horse at a gluey Chel- tenham and when they had planned a spring comeback the horse had chipped an ankle bone. Jim says that Chai-Yo (the name means 'Three cheers' in Thai-talk) takes a lot out of himself when he runs. 'It's like taking the cork out of a cham- pagne bottle, all the fizz comes out' — so don't look for an early return to the track. But on his favoured ground he will be worth further interest this season. Connec- tions believe they can win a flat race with him too one day, but there aren't too many maidens for nine-year-olds and finding the right race will be a problem.

Robin Oakley is political editor of the BBC.