Curse of Oakley
Robin Oakley
Most people look forward wholeheartedly to their holidays. Mrs Oakley's feelings on the subject are mixed. On our honeymoon I picked up a serious ear, nose and throat infection, which nearly left me deaf when the Italian doctor declared my condition to be merely a case of 'too much sun' and fiendishly prescribed suppositories the size of mortar shells. The next year I ran down the beach at Collioure on the first day, dived into the sea and emerged with a foot gushing blood, having sliced myself on a broken bottle. And so it has gone on. In Cornwall I broke a couple of toes slipping on rocks. Mrs Oakley, having never driven on the Continent before, had to motor us back to England from the Italian seaside one year when, chasing through the shallows, I tore a tendon so badly I could not walk. The next year, bending to load the car in France, I slipped a disc. The year we holidayed at home, I went to play tennis and ruptured my Achilles' tendon with a crack like a pistol shot. Working colleagues have grown used to seeing me re-emerge from a summer break patched up, plastered or on crutches. Nowadays the family don't ask Mrs Oakley, Did you have a nice trip?', merely, 'What has he done this time?'
This year I was determined it would be different, having paid a small fortune to stay in a classy Corsican hotel. But it was not the perfect holiday. The hotel refused to give us a room for nearly five hours after our arrival, following a 3.00 a.m, start, and stroppily told us we were lucky they didn't make us wait longer. The podgy proprietor, who clearly hadn't exercised for decades, refused to heat the freezing swimming-pool, muttering that it was better for our circulation as it was. A fish dish served raw to Mrs Oakley was eventually grudgingly replaced — by another one equally uncooked. All that I could have survived, having got through to the final beach swim on our last day physically unscathed. But then nemesis struck as I completed the under-towel wriggle out of my wet swimming trunks. Ping went something in my back. Once more it was a case of reaching for the Nurofen and skulking ashen-faced as Mrs Oakley, who suffers silently from a broken neck and has her top vertebrae pinned together by screws rather larger than you get in the local DIY store, once more did her bit hauling our luggage off the conveyor belt. Her slight lack of charm during this process can be forgiven. It is difficult smiling through icily gritted teeth. But it may be a little while before our next holiday.
The curse of Oakley has, I regret to say, extended this time to our summer Ten to Follow. After two profitable seasons, so far on the Flat we seem to be heading for a loss. The form books which accompanied me to Corsica confirm that, of the original ten, two are dead, one has been retired and another is yet to see an English racecourse. Tragically, Andrew Balding's Dubaian Gift collapsed and expired after his race at Royal Ascot, and Godolphin's talented Snow Ridge, who was second in the 2000 Guineas and then failed to stay in the Derby, has sadly had to be put down, having developed laminitis. Exceed and Excel, the Australian sprinter imported at vast expense by the Maktoums, was retired after suffering a setback and mysteriously trailing home last in his only English appearance. And Godolphin's Sabre d'Argent has failed to make it to the track. Even my beloved Russian Rhythm has appeared only once. She won, of course, at 3-1 taking the Juddmonte Lockinge Stakes at Newbury from Salselon and Norse Dancer and will, I hope, be back in action soon. But I have run out of excuses for my other favourite, Henry Candy's Airwave. She did win a Listed race at Ayr at the skinny price of 4-6 and has campaigned without disgrace in the top sprints. But somehow it never seems to be her day.
Jeremy Nosecla's speedy two-year-old Blue Dakota has been our best contributor, winning two races at Windsor and the Norfolk Stakes at Royal Ascot. But at prices of 1-8,2-9 and 5-4 that hasn't put us on any wonga lists. He pulled too hard when they tried him over six furlongs, and clearly remains a minimum distance operator. Clive Cox's New Seeker has been anchored this season by the handicapper. His fourth with ten stone in the Buckingham Palace Stakes at Royal Ascot, when he was first home his side of the course, was a fine effort. But it looks as though he is one of those not quite up to Group Class who is likely to be weighted out of anything else, If we are to get some help in straightening the books, it may have to come from Mick Channon's consistent Hallhoo, the 2-1 winner of a Newbury maiden in August, and from John Gosden's Almanshood, whose promise as a staying type was confirmed when he was third over a mile at Salisbury on 20 August. He should surely collect his maiden before too long. But the bad news is that so far the return to a level-stakes tenner on the Ten's 25 outings is no better than some /145, a loss of £105. There are some weeks to go, but I am not too hopeful of getting back into the black, Or paying for next year's holiday, if there is one. .
Previous page
