Last week was one of those that came from the depths of Hades.

Monday was not too bad – manically busy but not too bad. At the very last minute I sorted a leaving do for Ida (my long-suffering girlfriend of the past year, escaping to better things in Australia). It was one of those situations where you ring around all her friends and hope to God not all of them can come… No such luck, I was inundated.

There were 22 of us for dinner in my new house. We did manage it, all were fed and watered and duly sent on their way. In fact it really was a great night, and despite doing the cooking I did enjoy myself. If the others did or not, I don’t know! Ida certainly did, and it was nice for her that all came and made such an effort.

Seeing stars at the sales

After a very late night, it was a very early morning to get to Stansted for one of the now customary hideously horrible flights to Dublin for the Tattersalls (Ireland) sales at Fairyhouse. Thankfully I was given a lift to the sales from the airport by Irish Thoroughbred Marketing.

I am not the best of passengers, but this was enough. A horrible flight over – I have no doubt the pilot had just got his wings and if it was down to me I would have clipped them and sent him back to school! Then a very kind lift, where unfortunately I sat in the back of the car. It took all of my strength not to see the 4.15am pain au chocolat and orange!

The sales were a bit of an annoyance as anything that took one’s eye seemed to be just out of reach financially. Well, at least we knew there was not one we liked that slipped the net. There were a few nice types and a few horrors…

I was staying with one of my owners; they have a beautiful house and have recently just decorated it. Dinner was lovely, even if it did go on far too late! I found myself sending messages to those back on the yard at 1.40 am for what they were to do that day. The team are superb and the morning I was away went swimmingly – quite literally. The heavens had opened and Newmarket had a deluge of rain. I was not lucky enough to miss it, well how could I, I was in Ireland. Do they ever see the sun there?

I had travelled over in a pair of very large Wellington boots and a rather large full-length mackintosh. The airline did take exception to this on my return flight, thinking I might be concealing a large amount of illegal narcotics on my person or, more likely, a shotgun. I was duly searched and then promptly fined for over-sized hand luggage as my coat would not fit in my bag. Rather than take the hump I paid the fine and swiftly got my revenge in asking for a VAT receipt. That stumped them for a bit!

Scratching our heads over Red

All On Red ran at Newmarket on Friday under Hayley Turner, who had seen the filly work the week before. We went with an air of optimism as she has galloped very well in her newly fitted blinkers. However, for one reason or another she did not run her race and put us back in our place, scratching our heads. All On Red owes us nothing: she is a dual winner, stakes placed and took us to Royal Ascot, something that most just dream about.

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This last week has had the pace and momentum of a runaway locomotive. After Tuesday morning stables I jumped on to Mr O’Leary’s Boeing 737. I felt more like a bull on the way to Longtown Market rather than a human flying to Malmo, Sweden.

What was I doing in Sweden? I was in fact visiting a lady who I hope will one day be an owner of mine. She is a Mrs Tiggywinkle-like creature with superb horsemanship.

She, in fact, had a beautiful yearling colt, Epsom Hill, a full brother to the Group-Three winning Equip Hill. I have desperately tried to persuade her to send me this magnificent animal, but it seems as though I am going to have to find a buyer for half of him. So those of you feeling a little flush, please do not hesitate in contacting me!

On my return to the airport I stopped off at Jagersro, the southern most racecourse in Sweden, a dirt track with more similarities to Wimbledon greyhound track than Ascot. They did have a couple of well-bred horses running, including a half-brother to Canford Cliffs, who was sadly unplaced.

An uplifting point is that they do have reasonable prize-money for the better races. Maybe it will be worth returning with a charge of my own to steal some silver back from the Viking hoards.

Friday saw the return to the racecourse of a three-year-old filly. It was rather a disappointing day, but she and I live to fight another day.

Wedding bells and best behaviour

This weekend has probably been one of the busiest this summer/autumn. First we had a couple of important gallops, including All On Red in a pair of blinkers. It was then the turn of two good friends to get married.

Al Newall and Emma Richardson tied the knot in an amazing ceremony in St Peter’s Church in Malton, nearly in earshot of Warren Hill. One moment I was mowing the yard lawn; half an hour later, in a stiff collar midway through the service. I wish all my friends could get married nearby.

The reception was a tremendous occasion where I saw some faces that I had not seen since my days at school. Apparently Maidwell Hall (the prep school in Northamptonshire that I attended) has got rid of the lily ponds – health and safety no doubt raising its ugly head.

The racing fraternity were out in their finery and I found myself having to be on my best behaviour as many of my very senior peers were present!

Harry and Geoffrey were the main attractions

On Sunday we had what was the return of the Newmarket Open Day, and Coles Racing did open its doors to all. There will be another one next year, as in my eyes, it was a great success. We entertained 212 people throughout the morning in our little yard.

I am not very good in the public eye but I did enjoy this, however, as all of those who came were already interested in what one had to talk about and by the end of the morning I did rather enjoy the sound of my own voice!

Harry The Hack (pictured top with Indian Moon) must have eaten two good sackfuls of carrots and Geoffrey the rabbit had been patted by countless hands. A huge thank you must go to all those who work for me as it was they who had dragged their sorry bodies out of bed at least a couple hours early on a Sunday morning and provided an enthusiastic and thoroughly enjoyable morning.

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It’s been a week of many mixed emotions. Two of my most favourite horses have returned to my parents – Littlemisssunshine, my first winner, now in foal to Pastoral Pursuits, has been weaned from her Sir Percy filly foal at Kirtlington and gone home.

And Dear Maurice has also gone there for a well-earned break before he returns to me to lead the yearlings and two-year-olds in December and January. Yet another string to his ever-increasing bow.

We had three runners this week, all at the tail end. The first ran a cracker at Wolverhampton on Thursday, over the minimum trip, and was just beaten into second place, first time in blinkers.

The second ran on the Friday, also at Wolverhampton, over a mile and a half – her first appearance in a handicap. She was quite heavily backed but, for some unknown reason she ran no sort of race and was lucky to beat one home.

Now, this is a truly tricky situation. How one does tell an owner that a horse one thought was capable of running a cracker in fact ran a stinker? Not an easy feat and one in which one has to tread rather carefully. Thankfully, I have understanding owners who were probably less upset than I was!

The third was the first horse again! This three-year-old filly was out for the second time in three days, once again over the minimum trip of five furlongs with her now-customary go-faster goggles, this time at Kempton Park. She once again ran a cracker but was beaten into fourth, just less than a head behind the horse which came second. This filly really has deserved to make her unlucky losing line a winning one.

Like the soldiers of the Great War, we will once again rise out of the trenches and fight again, and maybe Lady Luck will shine kindly on us.

We had a new addition to the roster in the form of a two-year-old filly by Red Clubs, the hottest sire of the moment who has unfortunately been lost to the breeding ranks. She has settled in well and, like most hearty Irish girls, has not left a scrap of food!

This week also saw the heart-breaking defeat of Camelot, Aidan O’Brien’s three-year-old flying machine, in the St Leger – the third part of what would have been a memorable Triple Crown – by Encke.

There are many theories as to why Camelot was defeated, ranging from “not good enough”, “average ride”, “something wrong” etc. As usual, I have my own view! The race was won, in my opinion, by a superlative ride from a flamboyant French boy barely out of nappies, Mickael Barzalona.

This is the very reason Sheikh Mohammed has employed him, along with Frankie Dettori and Silvestre de Sousa – moments of brilliance in high-profile races under immense pressure.

My heart goes out to Camelot and the Ballydoyle team as, for whatever the reason, he did not deserve to be beaten, but well done to the Boys in Blue.

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It has been a couple of weeks since my last update and there have been a huge number of things going on. It began with the “Heath Run”, a charity race, run around Newmarket training grounds. Under some duress and peer pressure I was seconded into coming out of retirement and putting one weary leg in front of the other for 6.5km.

There was a strong turn out from both the racing community and the running community of Newmarket and the surrounding area. Unfortunately, I had left my trainers at my parents’ home after running at the Golden Button in January, so I was going to have to do it in plimsoles which most of my friends found rather entertaining. Half way round the pain from the plimsoles was unbearable so they were removed and I ran the rest of the race barefoot. I believe that I finished a respectable 10th or thereabouts out of a field of about 150.

The next morning I pulled out very lame — not so much from running barefoot, but just very stiff. If I were a racehorse I would refuse to leave my box after a race for at least two weeks, would only run once every three months and be particularly difficult to train, as press me slightly too hard and I would pull out lame once again! This would probably resulting in me being gelded and sent to America where I could run on ‘bute…

Another day for Brent Pelham

Brent Pelham was due to run at Brighton on the Monday but, unfortunately, developed a couple of spots that morning and was withdrawn as I did not believe he was at his peak. However, that same day a good friend who has recently joined the training ranks, Hugo Palmer, trained his first winner at Brighton, Steady The Buffs, in a two-year-old five-furlong maiden. Brighton will, therefore, hold a place close to both our hearts as it was 11 months ago, and also over five furlongs, that we won our first race with Littlemisssunshine.

Lycidas catches the eye — and ear

Our boisterous two-year-old colt, Lycidas, has spent the last couple of weeks trotting, getting him used to both Newmarket Heath again and the barrage of horses that come from the depths of Darley. He is the apple of my eye, as I have said before, but is also fast becoming a firm favourite of many others. He is very distinguishable when out on the Heath as he has a tremendous presence and when he whinnies he sounds rather like a Harley Davidson starting up, terrifying every filly and semi-scared stable lad or lass within half a mile!

It was the turn of Main Beach to take to the racecourse again. This time he was running on the grass for the first time and I was dropping him markedly back in trip, something for which I took quite a large amount of flak before the race.

Another winner!

Main Beach has not been the most simple of characters to get to the races and it has been a massive team effort to achieve it. My vet, two farriers, unfaltering head girl Sammy, and “pony” Bulbury Hill have all played a huge part. There was an air of anticipation as he had been going rather well at home. Stevie Donohoe had the ride as he had come in prior to this outing to gallop him in the morning, to get a feel of him, something I thought imperative.

Main Beach is somewhat unruly at the races and had the pleasure of Bulbury Hill, our “pony”, as a lead in the parade ring, and was wearing a stallion chain, regardless of the fact that he is a gelding. It was an entertaining visit to the stewards’ room before we ran to ask firstly, please could we saddle in the stable yard, secondly, please could we use a “pony” to lead Main Beach to the start, thirdly, please could we go to the start early, and fourthly, please could we use Mr Witheford jnr [an expert in dealing with difficult horses] to put him in the stalls.

The stewards’ parting quip was, “Mr Coles, you must remember this is not a circus and you had better be good at taming lions.”

Well, Main Beach knows he is bigger and stronger than 99% of all other thoroughbreds! We duly made it to the start and managed to squeeze him into the starting stalls. He was, however, slow to get away, just like last time he ran. That was the only bit of the race I saw as I was at the start having ridden the “pony”. Having run two furlongs and with just four left to travel he was still 12 lengths off the pace. Stevie, riding with uber-confidence, was unhurried. On scything through the field he met with trouble in running but, the size he is, he swatted away the competition and forged through the smallest of gaps to win by an extending half a length at the line. None of which I had seen!

The joy on my parents’ faces was something I will never forget.

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It has been quite some time since my last article and a lot has gone on. The jump season drew to a close recently. The Flat season is in full flow with the superstars, Frankel and the southern hemisphere monster that is So You Think, among others that will fill the eyes of any questioning public.

Keyaza came out of her race at Huntingdon well. Just before her start at Aintree she gained a new owner in partnership with Sam Hoskins. The race did not go according to plan but she was running on well at the end and came home safely, so one hopes there is a bright future for this somewhat late-flowering bloom. She has now gone for a well-deserved three-month holiday down in Dorset.

The yard has also come on in leaps and bounds. Both the lunge pit and the sand pit have now been finished and have been put to good use. There is nothing better than allowing a horse to have a really good roll when returning from exercise. It does as good a job, if not better, than any chiropractor and they love it. The paddocks have been de-nettled and cut, leaving some short, lush grass, which is a rare sight at the moment.

Like most of the country, Newmarket is desperate for some rain. We have had just over 4mm since 16 January. Thankfully, it is not just me who is waiting for the rain, everybody is in the same boat.

Brent Pelham, after showing some promise in his first run by coming second behind a good horse of Ed Dunlop’s, was disappointing in his second start. We have done some quite extensive diagnostic work to try to find the reason behind this disappointment. I hope to run him within the next couple of weeks and hope that he will show the same level of ability as he did on his first start. Time will tell.

Musical horses

Things do not change in that we are still playing musical horses. A couple of two-year-olds have gone out to the paddock to mature before returning for an autumn campaign.

A National Hunt filly has gone home as the ground has gone against us.

We picked up a two-year-old from the Breeze-Up sales at Newmarket and two three-year-old fillies arrived from Ireland. So the numbers are remaining roughly the same but the horses are continually changing. We are actually slowly but surely expanding in numbers, even though not all of them may be in the yard at any one time.

Lycidas, the two-year-old Zamindar colt, half-brother to Prix de l’Opera winner Lady Marian, is due back at the beginning of May after the Guineas Meeting. I visited him at the beginning of this month. He is looking fantastic and I am looking forward to his return, as it is an honour to train such a well-bred horse. One’s hopes and dreams are eternal.

Doncaster Sales took place last week and on the return journey I called in to see the horses which are residing with my parents. A couple are enjoying a break and Littlemisssunshine has been scanned at 42 days and is safely in foal to Sir Percy. All were looking well and happy and after demolishing my father’s birthday cake we returned to Newmarket.

My new Mistress

Training can be a lonely profession if living by oneself. A “mistress” is what was required. “Mistress”, a five-month-old hunt terrier, arrived one evening. She is great company and a firm favourite at the yard. She has become a constant companion, even accompanying me to Wolverhampton racecourse in the lorry!

I was slightly concerned when my vet announced that he would be running in the London Marathon. Would he come back in one piece? He has, despite his best efforts. He did the marathon wearing a Buzz Lightyear full body suit — absolute madness, but well done him!

This is quite an exciting time of year as we have worked the whole winter towards it. One just hopes that some of the hard work will pay off.

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This past week has been very busy, extremely tough and also jubilant.

The week began with Littlemisssunshine (pictured right) being scanned to check whether she had ovulated after her covering. She had, and will be checked again later in the month.

There was also good news from the vets. If you can remember from last week’s episode we finished on Beinn Tharsuinn having only a 5% chance of survival. Once again my thanks must go to Simon Waterhouse and the team at Newmarket Equine Hospital as Beinn Tharsuinn is now home and has been given a bill of fit health. It has been commented on that this two-year-old colt by Balmont has the constitution of an iron bar. To be honest, it is a miracle that he is still alive.

On Wednesday morning Cotton King, our stable champion, was to give one of Ed Walker’s horses a helping hand in a gallop. However, Cotton King did not approve of this arrangement and in hindsight was showing signs of being over the top. I had just thought it part of his quirky character. In the evening we scoped and took blood from him, just to make sure that there was nothing amiss. The results came back on Thursday morning. He was – in veterinary terms – perfect.

Celebrating an epic day’s hunting

Thursday evening was one of great interest and one fairly close to my heart. My surrogate godfather, Robin Smith-Ryland, had organised a centennial dinner for Frank Freeman’s famous hunt with the Pytchley hounds crossing most of the Grafton country, the Badby Wood Run. There were descendants of both Lord Annaly, the master at the time, and Frank Freeman, who hunted the hounds.

A century ago professional huntsmen were the football stars of their day and Mr Freeman would have probably put Wayne Rooney or David Beckham into the shade with his popularity. The evening was a great success as it had drawn people from all over the country, including some of the best hunt servants in today’s scene.

Cotton King is over the top

After Cotton King had been given the all clear from the vets we took our chance in a Class 4 1 mile 6 furlongs race at Wolverhampton on Saturday. He was, from the offset, too keen, a typical sign of being over the top, and finished a laborious last. This is nothing to do with the horse but a failure on the trainer’s part to heed to his warnings. The lesson has duly been learnt. Cotton King is going for a well-deserved break before returning for a late summer campaign on the grass.

My poor parents!

Sunday brought with it a bolt from the blue. The owner of one of my nicer two-year-old colts telephoned, and due to circumstances outside my control, said that he was unhappy.

On Monday my parents arrived to give me a proper luncheon before the onset of a tricky week. They did somewhat bear the brunt of my temper as every bit of grief and pressure my owner had given me, I re-laid twice as hard on my parents (well, what else are they for!) However, even I did feel a little sorry for them as I had been positively vile.

Some senior members of the foxhunting world turned out in force on Tuesday morning to see Brent Pelham, possibly the most viewed charge in Newmarket!

On Wednesday morning I received a text informing me that Amoure Medici was being picked up by another Newmarket trainer. The frustration was paramount as the reason behind the horse’s departure was nothing to do with me. But there was nothing for it except to dust oneself off and keep going. The person who I felt really sorry for was the unwavering Sammy, as this striking Medicean colt had been her ride since arriving in the yard.

Go Nelly, go!

On a brighter note, it was Keyaza’s day to meet with destiny. As the papers had described she was the pick on paper, being out of a Yorkshire Oaks winner, and half-sister to a Grade One hurdle winner. She is somewhat rather large, well super-model-like really. She has long legs and a long neck. This does not sound very becoming but in fact she is well-proportioned. The young Trevor Whelan had the ride and was particularly understanding of his orders and courteous with my owners.

“Nelly The Elephant”, as she is slightly unkindly known, was rather green to post and slightly keen in the early stages of the race, but Mr Whelan settled her well and rode to instructions. Coming off the bend into the home straight he found himself an ever-increasing four lengths clear. Nelly The Elephant had won her first start by an easy twelve lengths. Maybe she won’t be packing her bag just yet!

As one friend suggested, it is 363 days until next year’s Cheltenham… We can but dream.

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This past week has been one where the lessons have been rather tough. On Wednesday morning our giant, Main Beach, had developed yet another quarter crack from his gallop at Lingfield the previous day. This is not too serious but a slight setback. It has been patched and he was given an easy week and will have another one before being prepped to run on the grass, where one anticipates he will improve from his all-weather form.

It’s never too early!

During Wednesday luncheon I visited a little stud on the seaward side of Shadwell. This was to view two yearlings, yes yearlings, that I might have the pleasure of training in about nine months. Hopefully I have jumped to the head of the queue to train them as I have got in there very early! I was tempted to offer to take them now.

Littlemisssunshine is in flirty form

Littlemisssunshine (see picture) had a very important date on Thursday 3 March. Unfortunately in her eyes, this was not to be with the Lanwades Stud teaser, as both she and he had fallen in love. It was probably the first man she had seen when in season so she had an excuse and the teaser was rather taken by this temperamental pocket rocket. Rather reluctantly this piebald pony left it to the eye-catching Sir Percy. One hopes that in about eleven months and a week a Gimcrack winner will be born!

A disappointing run — but with a reason

After returning Littlemisssunshine to her stable, her place in the lorry was taken by Rich And Reckless on her way to her handicap debut at Wolverhampton, where she was to meet a few of her owners in anticipation of a strong run over a mile. The filly, unfortunately, was rather keen and was unable to get any cover. She travelled strongly until two furlongs to go where her run petered out rather quickly. A disappointing handicap debut and one which left me rather puzzled.

Feeling rather deflated on the journey back, I went over the thousand things in my mind of what could and did go wrong. On Friday morning an easy explanation arose; her shins were on fire. I had probably pushed her too hard to please. She will do the same as Main Beach and be prepared for a return to the ring on the grass.

Business advice and yard improvement

Some very welcome business advice came on Friday from an owner’s friend and will be acted upon imminently. He returned, with my owner, the next morning to watch Brent Pelham, a four-year-old Royal Applause colt, gallop from the stalls. This was an education for both owner and horse. Brent Pelham duly jumped and pleased and the owners were understandably entertained.

The weather over the weekend was on our side for the development of the yard. The improvements are now marching on, with the lunge pit having been finished, both walkways to the Heath surfaced, the foundations for a covered walker laid, fencing done for a sandpit and the sand delivered.

On Saturday an owner, who is also a close friend, came to see his filly gallop on the Cambridge Road polytrack as the sun rose. Seemingly this is not the only filly he has in training as he had not even driven himself!

Disaster strikes in the form of colic

Monday morning had passed without too many mishaps. This was to be short-lived. Beinn Tharsuinn, a two-year-old colt bred by Tara Stud, was not having such a great day. He had not passed a dropping since coming in from exercise and was starting to colic. Simon Waterhouse, my vet, a partner at NEH (Newmarket Equine Hospital), gave him 10ml of buscopan and 10ml of bute to ease his pain, which it did for a time.

Unfortunately, his symptoms worsened and he was summoned to hospital. After further investigation it was found that there was swelling in his small intestine. With no droppings passing this blockage, the outcome looked very bleak and with operating not being an option, he was given a 5% chance of survival. Thanks to the NEH vets and their staff, he has made it through the night and his chances of survival have increased to 50/50.

Although we are far from out of the trees there is a shimmer of hope coming through the branches, which is entirely due to the dedication of both Simon and the staff at NEH. If we are lucky enough to get out of this horrible situation I shall have a lot to thank them for.

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Last Tuesday was one of those mornings where we had rather a lot going on, probably most importantly a visit from the vet regarding Charlie’s Boy. He was to gallop with an endoscope down his throat to see if we could come up with an excuse for his lacklustre attempts at the racecourse. His owner, Mrs Hamilton, was in attendance for the excursion, and Sam Hoskins, the owner of “Nelly The Elephant” (Keyaza, a four-year-old Azamour filly) joined in the fun.

Nelly The Elephant seems to be going the right way; we might even show her the racecourse sometime during Cheltenham week. However, one cannot say the same for poor old Charlie’s Boy. Unfortunately, we could not find an excuse and, therefore, it would be pointless to put him under the knife or even carry on. So he has today made the journey to the depths of Gloucestershire to learn another trade. Knowing that he jumps like a buck (we school most of the horses before they run), he will surely find his calling.

The irresistible rise of Cotton King

Cotton King, a now-beloved favourite of both Mrs Hamilton and us in the yard, was put up a further 8lbs for his romp the previous week at Wolverhampton. A total of 17lbs in eight days. Having spoken to Sir Mark Prescott, he suggested we should feel very well done by as he would have put us up 14lbs for his last win alone! A far cry from his first gallop when it was suggested that we did not ever show him the racecourse… Let’s just hope that he can keep improving and, if we are lucky, be the horse to put us on the map.

A borrowed birthday present

It was my birthday the previous week, and probably one of the best presents was from my accountant in the form of lending me her Equissage machine, something I could not yet afford myself as it is a luxury rather than a necessity. It now tops off the fine equine spa that Coles Racing has become. Their effect is arguable, but I like them. It can do no harm and my horses seem relaxed after it has been on. In Flat racing we are dealing with such minute variables making huge differences; this is surely something which will help us out.

Times are tough but it’s better to be honest about horses

Wednesday was the first day one started to feel the effect of the past Labour government; 20% VAT does hurt! The VAT bill was duly paid, even if grinning through gritted teeth. Times are a little financially tough at the moment as we have got rid of half the yard as they were lacking the ability to do either their owners or us in Coles Racing any justice. It has, however, left us with a yard of horses which have the ability to win their training fees back, if everything goes to plan and with a little bit of Lady Luck on our side.

I have had some flack for getting rid of quite so many horses from friends and people who are slightly concerned about my precarious financial situation and I have sometimes questioned it myself! However, the ruthless stance which we have employed may make things a little tough in the imminent future, but in the long run one has to tell oneself it will pay off. I think one of the most important things is to be known as fair, honest and ruthless when needs be.

Two on the tightrope

This past weekend has been one of walking along a tightrope with a couple of the horses. Unfortunately, we seem to have slipped from the rope with one but, hopefully, caught ourselves on the way down. Our smart two-year-old filly was seen to be slightly lame on Sunday and the vet confirmed a possible very slight stress fracture. This is quite a common occurrence in many two-year-olds and thankfully the prognosis is good and we hope to be back in the swing with her in a few weeks. Nature has a wonderful way of putting the brakes on when a little more time is needed.

The other horse doing the tightrope walk was my mother’s beloved Main Beach. He was not on the best of terms with the starters and had been summoned for a test. He is mammoth and particularly hard to train as he has both the size and temperament of his father, Starcraft, and has the feet and fragility of his American-bred mother, Ocean View.

This 580kg beast was taken to Lingfield where he was met by the son of father-and-son team Witheford, who are renowned worldwide for their ability to coax even the most difficult of equine charges into the stalls. Luckily our tame giant decided not to throw too much of a strop and passed the test. To kill two birds with one stone Main Beach was given a racecourse gallop. If accosted by an authority, “I could not stop him, Sir!” would have been the words uttered.

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After a torrid couple of weeks, in my last Horse & Hound instalment we were coming off a high from Cotton King’s win at Wolverhampton in anticipation of a hammering by the handicapper for winning with an ever-increasing margin.

One of my parents’ oldest friends, whom I have many fond memories of staying at her house during exeats from my prep school in the heart of the Cottesmore country, rang me asking if I would train her four-year-old National Hunt filly, something I jumped at for a couple of reasons.

Firstly, we were down on numbers due to the sacking of some inmates who were not even capable of winning a raffle with all the tickets! Secondly, there is nothing nicer than training for a friend who has known me since I was in a basket saddle.

I was to collect her filly two days later from Louise Allen, whose base is just outside Cheveley. Something that once again people might find a little strange — I took my tack and rode the filly home. I found she is forward-going, honest and brave, so with all these characteristics one can have a little hope.

A bitter blow for my Aussie friend

A bolt from the blue came from down under. Paul Messara, a friend who trains in Scone, New South Wales, was giving an exhibition gallop with his stable superstar Battlefield, a striking chestnut with a flax mane and tail. During the gallop Battlefield sustained a fatal injury and had to be put down. A bitter blow for the team. My heart goes out to them as I know he was much loved.

On Tuesday just past, I was lucky enough to gallop one of my string with one of my mentor Sir Mark Prescott’s horses. The horses will remain unnamed, how they galloped remain untold and my life remain intact!

Tuesday also saw Cotton King’s handicap mark published. He had been raised 9lbs for his six-length victory the previous Monday which seemed at the time a little harsh.

My Rich girl runs well

Rich And Reckless was the next to run. Once again I was to go back to Wolverhampton and appreciate the hospitality of the north Birmingham inhabitants. Her date with five other toy boys was at the civilised hour, if one was having supper, of 8pm. Even with such a small field she encountered a little bit of bad luck and was posted wide throughout the race. Carrying a stone and 2lbs more than anything else in the race, she finished a close third. A great run, even if, the trainer was a little angry.

Return of the King

Cotton King was to run at Wolverhampton the very next day. Surely now the little two-horse box could drive itself as it knows the road so well. The time of Cotton King’s race was more like “high tea” rather than supper, being at 6pm. Earlier in the afternoon I had watched a friend’s first runner under Rules come a close third at Fakenham.

Both my mother and Mrs Hamilton, with her husband, had made the trip to Wolverhampton to watch Cotton King in the 1mile six-furlong handicap. The pace was a reasonably strong one. Cotton King sat mid-division for the first three-quarters of the race, whereupon he made a slow move towards the outside and travelled easily in third three furlongs from home. Jockey Ian Mongan eased him out and asked for an effort, whereupon Cotton King skipped clear and put the race to bed with two furlongs still to go. One can only imagine the handicapper’s face after he had raised Cotton King 9lbs for a six-length victory; what was he going to conjure up for this 10-length win? The picture above is of Cotton King after his win, taken by John Berry.

After a late night two days running, Saturday morning was an anticipated gallop morning for some of the yard who had not run earlier in the week. My new inmate surprised me in both showing a little bit of speed and a great amount of resilience.

Saturday also saw a favourite of mine go for a well-deserved break. Graf and Grafin von Stauffenberg’s Lycidas travelled down to Kirtlington Stud where he will spend some time in the paddock maturing before returning to be prepped for an autumn start.

Sunday saw yet more tarmac. I was back on the road, this time taking Melody Belle to Mathew Mackley’s to be pre-trained. I also took a quick trip home, where I was met with a birthday luncheon any king would have been happy with. However, most people’s birthday luncheons do not come with a condition — that I was to have my hair cut! Ian, the local barber, had been press-ganged into scalping me.

Littlemisssunshine jumped onto the shuttlebus for her date with Derby-winning stallion Sir Percy, organised for sometime in the next couple of weeks.

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The past two weeks have really shown both the ups and the downs of being a young trainer. Of our band of winter runners, it was becoming increasingly obvious that most of them would not run out of sight on a dark night. As a small trainer losing any horse is tough, but sadly we were going to have to cull at least four as they were not going to win, even on the all-weather in the winter (what my father describes as donkey racing on the beach).

One could have quite easily kept them in training for another couple of months to pay some bills, but this, first and foremostly, would have been dishonest and disloyal to my owners who have shown me so much support, and secondly they would have done us no favours as they had little hope of being within sight of the winner.

One is returning to Germany after refusing to go to the sales by getting an abscess in her hoof, another is returning to Ireland, one will become a lady’s hack and another an extremely well bred polo pony being out of a champion European sprinter by a champion miler!

The loss of four paying guests in our luxury spa for horses has done some serious damage to the coffers, but one must look on the bright side. At least my owners know that I am honest and willing to pull the plug when needs be.

First glimmer of hope

It is February when the Nordic races suffer from depression and one can see why. The winter is beginning to drag on, but thankfully the daffodils have started to appear, the Six Nations has started and there is a little light at the end of the tunnel.

Rich And Reckless provided the first glimmer of hope in her maiden at Kempton in coming a close third on only her second start. On her first start she had been beaten a country mile as she reared and bronc-ed coming out of the stalls. The team of owners whom she has gathered were seemingly impressed by the filly as she proved the first part of her name, “Rich”, and I had previously proved the second part of the name earlier in the day by being stopped by the Essex police and gaining a few points to my licence. Even though I had some great excuses up my sleeve, PC Plod was not best impressed.

The next thing that had slightly pissed me off was the damn “cold list” in the Racing Post. It is the bane of any young or fledgling trainer to have one’s name blackened by statistics!

Come on, Cotton King!

Cotton King, a little quirky in his character, thankfully has taken a shine to both my long-standing stable lass, Sammy, who rides the beast every morning as he has a pension for placing me gently on the ground, and the delights of Wolverhampton racecourse.

After proving an unlucky fourth, beaten just over a length by John Berry’s Rhythm Stick, he ran out an easy winner in Monday’s 1m 4f handicap at Wolverhampton. “Cotton proves right material to get Coles off cold list,” was the headline.

It was a wonderful evening, not just for the winner, but also for Mrs Hamilton, who has proved my greatest supporter so far, and who was there willing her steed home. One winner with an owner in attendance is worth two without the owner present in the book of trainer’s tips!

The last couple of weeks have proved that it really is a roller coaster ride from the highs and lows; thankfully, the highs far outweigh the lows.

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After receiving my ticking-off from the starter (see part-one of this week’s diary) I departed from Wolverhampton to go to Cheltenham to stay with a friend who was providing me with a horse to ride in the Hayes Golden Button Challenge, the Ledbury hunt race, on Saturday morning.

I left for Tirley and arrived to walk the course with a couple of friends in the dark. On arriving at the third, an open ditch into a hedge, it didn’t look too bad. The fifth fence was slightly bigger again, or seemed it in the dark, as it was hardly a ditch but more like the River Severn flowing in front of it! The rest of the course consisted of a variation of upright wooden post-and-rails with telegraph poles on the top, open ditches, hedges with ditches behind, and downright hairy ones!

Weighing out

My horse arrived in plenty of time and I was able to weigh out at just gone 9am. On weighing out I was told to make sure that I drank something and ate a healthy breakfast as I was just under the minimum weight of 11st 7lbs with my saddle. Jo Holder, whose horse I was riding, seemed to be terrified! After some encouragement from her friends and legging me up there was no more for them to do other than watch.

A sprinting start

As we set off for this three-and-a-half mile race, the leaders set off faster than any of my five furlong sprinters would dream of going! The Big Horse and I were happy to take a back seat and try to pick our way through the field.

Approaching the third, I had now realised why those at the front had gone off like a bat out of hell. Firstly, they would not have to thread their way through the mayhem which ensued and secondly, as both the third and fifth fences needed a huge amount of speed to clear both the river in front and the hedge behind. The third took the stuffing from my horse as we had smashed our way through the hedge and had only just managed to keep intact.

On approaching the fifth we attacked it with slightly more gusto and jumped it with a little more precision and by the time we approached the eighth, an upright post and rails which had claimed an ever-increasing number of victims, we were in full flow and jumped it in great style.

Loose horses everywhere

By the time we reached the 18th I had gone past both huge numbers of loose horses and bodies strewn from fence to fence. By the time I reached six from home I counted nine loose horses galloping across the large hedge and ditch in front of me. My mount and I managed to time it so we reached the hedge just as the last loose horse had gone by.

After crossing the large ditch, which I had nearly forgotten existed, we turned into the last upright of the race which seemed rather like the battlefield of Balaclava, as chaos had ensued on the other side.

I, myself, very nearly came to grief but somehow managed to lift my mount’s head and we ploughed on towards the next two hedges, both of which had horses lying the landing side exactly where I wished to jump. A quick change of plan into the first and a change of angle into the second saw us clear them both, much to the relief of some poor girl (Ali Galliers Pratt, pictured above, whose horse was not injured in the fall) as I missed her horse’s head by a matter of inches.

By the time I approached the last two fences my mount was nearly empty of fuel, but we managed to complete and we finished ninth.

Thanks to Jo Holder

I must thank Jo Holder, whose horse I rode, for allowing me to take it to the limit. The Big Horse did tremendously well as most who had started the race barely got halfway round and it is credit to him that we finished at all.

Now for the running race

Half an hour after finishing the Button, I was again on the course, this time under my own steam. I was taking on last year’s winner of the running race, reportedly a former special forces member (I had my suspicions as he had the customary black square covering his eyes!). Every time I got within reaching distance of him, he just motored on. He was a machine amongst men and I came home second a couple of hundred yards behind him. He, however, had not ridden in the race and, I therefore, held a moral victory over him!

What a day — I returned to Newmarket to hay my “ponies” in the evening accompanied by a Golden Button, awarded for the first combined rider and runner!

Sunday and back to reality, freshened up even though exhausted.

After our mammoth 300yd move from Chestnut Tree Stables to Cedar Lodge, we began preparing for the weekend which has just passed. We had four runners on Friday, three of which were at Lingfield and one at Wolverhampton.

On the Tuesday Main Beach decided he was going to add just a little stress to the mixture as he had developed a very small quarter crack on the inside of his off-fore in exactly the same place as the one on his other hoof. Thankfully, it had not gone the depth of the other and was easily patched.

Coles Racing’s busiest day yet

Friday morning was an early one as we set out on what was to be Coles Racing’s busiest day thus far. My landlady, Mrs O’Neill, and a part-time member of staff took Main Attraction, Batya and Cotton King to Lingfield where I was to join them an hour or two later. Thankfully, the traffic was not too bad and I got to Lingfield with plenty of time to spare. The owners of both Main Attraction and Batya were unable to make it but the long-standing Mrs Hamilton was there to watch her Cotton King, half-brother to her treasured mare Pivoting.

The first to take to the racecourse was Main Attraction. This sizeable filly sprung to the lead under Ian Mongan and remained there until just over a furlong out. I was happy with the race she ran as she showed some good travelling speed and she will have come on well for it as it had been nearly three-quarters of a year since her last start.

Batya, a German-owned filly, was the next to stick her head above the parapet in a mile handicap. The race was run at an extremely slow pace to begin with. With this in mind and the slight downhill finish, the sprint that the race turned into did not suit her in any way. She was beaten four lengths.

Cotton King took his place in the mile and a half handicap, where he finished a pleasing fifth after a short lay-off.

On to Wolverhampton

After a quick goodbye to Mrs Hamilton and checking that all three runners had come through their bouts without any significant damage, I was on the road north to Wolverhampton, a journey that is not particularly nice on a quiet day, never mind on a Friday evening.

I made it in just the nick of time to collect the saddle from an expectant Eddie Ahern who was to ride Main Beach in the mile maiden.

Unfortunately, Main Beach and his giant bulk did not particularly appreciate being squashed into a starting stall. He had no malice about him, but took a little time to load, and unfortunately in the eyes of the starter was not up to standard and will, therefore, have to do a stalls test before he is to run again, something which nearly drove me to distraction! However, the rules are the rules and there is no point belly aching about them.

Despite his lack of obedience in the starting stalls I was very pleased with the way he ran. He dwelt badly at the start, maybe not quite as badly as Zenyatta, but he would come a close second. Without a clear run into the straight he ran on strongly at the end finishing just four lengths from the winner carrying 22lbs more.

Friday had been a trying day at the office as all four horses were just outside of a place, but they all ran with promise and with a little bit of luck we will have some exciting times coming up.

Find out how Toby got on in the Golden Button Challenge

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Christmas week is the time to be jolly and all that. It was, therefore, spent clipping, mucking out, drain-clearing, snow-sweeping etc! No wonder I was called everything from the Grinch or Scrooge to the Christmas elf over this festive period.

The day before Christmas Eve I felt particularly harsh in taking all the hair from Batya, a German-owned filly, as temperatures were still well below zero. However, it needed doing as riding a woolly teddy bear, albeit one that can gallop, is not really part of the Coles Racing ethos. Mind you she soon warmed up the day after as on Christmas Eve she, along with most of the older horses, galloped as I was to be on my own on Christmas Day.

Scrooge or the Grinch?

Both girls were given Christmas Day off so they could return home to their families. I don’t think therefore that either ‘Scrooge’ or ‘the Grinch’ are applicable to me! Christmas Eve was, however, quite a taxing day as, of the older horses galloped as we are hoping to have a late winter campaign with some of the team. It is often in the winter when one can pick up some smaller races with a lesser horse as the competition may not be as great as in the height of summer, so one hopes there is a little sense in the madness of preparing a large proportion of the string to run in late January.

Christmas morning was superb. I was as happy as a pig in mud being alone with my “ponies”. Being as quiet as it was, it was the perfect day to take two of the-then yearlings over to the other side of town for an excursion into enemy territory without the enemy being present. Each time I was the only horse on the Heath — my very own 4,500-acre playground.

No turkey, just a bit of race-planning

After riding these two babies I tucked the rest of the string up and went to visit a fellow fledgling trainer, Ed Walker, who was doing battle with a broom. As I approached he suggested I join him in a Christmas morning sweep!

Lunchtime was spent with my laptop and the Racing Administration website for my parents were still snowed in and, rather than put the day to waste, it was spent race-planning for the upcoming assault on the all-weather Flat circuit. In the evening I had an invitation to join yet another fledgling trainer, Hugo Palmer, for supper. I hope he is not as good a trainer as he is a cook because if he is I will struggle to get a horse past his. Supper was delicious.

On Boxing Day my parents were able to get out of the snow and join me for luncheon. Unfortunately, the oven was broken, unknown to me, and the beef wellington was particularly rare, which I love. I think that my vet could have got this cow up and running!

In the evening one of the fillies had a slight temperature and, as she is due to be one of those who run in late January, we took the sledgehammer approach and gave her every possible legal drug to get on top of a potential problem before it became a problem. Thankfully, the sledgehammer was big enough and the problem small enough that it was obliterated.

On the move

The rest of December was spent in preparation for another long weekend and the long-anticipated move to Cedar Lodge Stables (pictured). The long weekend was just that. After an early night on 31 December, where I was annoyingly awoken just past midnight by some rather loud fireworks, 1 January was spent preparing the new yard for our invasion on 3 January.

All the stables were washed and disinfected and beds laid down. If only someone had had a camera they would have been able to catch me stripped off to the bare essentials stuck half way down a drain trying to unblock it. What a start to the New Year, covered in muck and slurry! Thankfully, Sunday evening brought some respite and I had a lovely supper with some friends who I had not seen for a while.

On bank holiday Monday we went to war. After an amusing morning riding some very fresh horses, it was time to move the team from Chestnut Tree Stables to Cedar Lodge Stables, a move of just 300 yards. Pushing a barrow full of equipment it might as well have been three miles. Thankfully, the move went without a blip and the horses settled extremely quickly.

Tuesday 4 January was highlighted by the arrival of Skyblue, a Royal Applause filly whom we had bought at Doncaster last year. She had come from Matthew Mackley’s and looked an absolute picture. I hold her in rather high regard and am excited about the prospect of training a possible two-year-old type. She is forward in her demeanour and could be quite early.

We had a long morning the following day as those horses being prepared for a winter campaign had, possibly, their last hard gallop before they run. Of the eight we galloped, five went to the other side of town where they galloped up the Al Bahathri. All were pleasing and I am rather looking forward to their dates with destiny!

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Last Wednesday saw Nineteensixtysix depart for a new life in Gloucestershire. He has been an extremely painful lesson for me, but one that will never be forgotten. We had bought him this spring as a breeze-up horse. Unfortunately, I paid for him rather than the new owner.

A couple of months later, after naming the horse Nineteensixtysix, the owner decided that he was not for them. Nineteensixtysix had undergone a gelding surgery and numerous other ailments, all of which tightened the belt on one’s practically non-existent bank balance. Nineteensixtysix, therefore, became one of Coles Racing’s assets.

This stunning-looking gelding by Encosta Da Lago (AUS) did have one use, as I was to give a share of him to one of my best friends as a wedding present, all costs paid! Unfortunately, he did not have the mind to be a racehorse (Alex, do not fear, I’ll find you another one) so at a massive loss to Coles Racing he has gone to a friend in Gloucestershire where he will learn another trade within the horse world.

On Thursday we had a little respite from Jack Frost’s grip and we were able to gallop all the older horses. It was a relatively encouraging morning with some glimmers of hope for the New Year. It is about time that I told you that Coles Racing is on the move, albeit not very far, to a yard just 300yd from where it is based now.

Yard move on the way

My present landlord and landlady, Mr and Mrs Rae Guest, have been the very best landlords that I could have had. It is from the continued support of owners old and new that this move has come about. My numbers have swollen past the capacity that I have at the moment. It was on Thursday that the new yard went under the scrutiny of the British Horseracing Authority (BHA) inspector. Thankfully, it has passed and I will become a licensed trainer from Cedar Lodge Stables in the New Year.

Overnight the temperatures had plummeted and now Newmarket Heath had become one’s very own little winter wonderland. As I gingerly approached the yard, in anticipation of any damage caused by the previous days’ exploits galloping, I somehow managed to end up on my arse, not once, but twice, leaving the car park. All the horses had come through their work without an injury. On Friday the BHA had decided to put on an all-weather bumper card at Kempton Park on Tuesday where Charlie’s Boy would run in the first race.

On Saturday the weather closed in even more and I decided that Saturday would be Sunday (it is quite fun playing God sometimes). On Saturday evening I was to take the yard to “the dogs” for an evening watching the dish-lickers at their finest. Sadly, even these hardy pedigree pooches had succumbed to the weather and we went out for dinner instead. It was a fun evening amalgamating those associated with Coles Racing and those involved at Cedar Lodge, namely Mrs O’Neill, my future landlady, and her motley crew.

Messy but effective

On Sunday morning, I did something I had learnt last year in the depths of winter in America. We mucked out straight on to the yard creating a passable path for horse and rider from the stables to the Heath (see picture above). It may not sound terribly becoming, but it is extremely practical and a great way to prevent an accident.

I must congratulate and thank all those involved with the Jockey Club Estates in keeping the gallops and Heath fully functional. They do an amazing job in both keeping the grounds open and dealing with ever annoying trainers who consistently break the rules. Many of my schoolmasters would tell you that I am not adverse to getting into a little bit of trouble through my need for complete autocracy!

On Sunday I had somehow managed to second another of racing’s beauties to work for me. This time it was not to be Francesca Cumani, pitting her fitness against Cotton King, nor Amanda Zetterholm riding a piece of work, but an apprentice in the form of Leonna Mayor. However, my plan of doing some serious work on my street credibility fell fairly flat on its face as there was not another sole on the Heath.

By Monday one was beginning to feel rather like the abominable snowman while out on the horses. On returning to the yard one had lost the feeling in one’s hands and were fearful of our feet smashing like glass when jumping off our mounts. However, it was rather amusing that when we returned from first lot, both girls riding out with me had frozen hair and eyelashes! The horses’ manes were white and their whiskers were frozen solid for it had been at least -11 overnight.

Monday also saw the arrival of two new inmates for Coles Racing. Both had ventured down from the north so when encountering the tropical temperatures of the Midlands they must have thought that they had gone on holiday to Barbados. A fine idea in anybody’s mind as a result of the weather that we are encountering now. My perpetual loathing of the snow is unsurprisingly increasing day by day.

What’s up with Charlie’s Boy?

Tuesday started at an ungodly hour when I collected the little horse box I hire to take Charlie’s Boy south to Kempton where he was to run in the first race, a National Hunt bumper over two miles. Previously he had run at Uttoxeter and had stopped as if shot three furlongs from home. Unfortunately, he did the same again today and we will have to do some serious diagnostic work with the vet to find out what has stopped him.

In my view, it could only really be one of two things to stop him that quickly. Firstly, bleeding from the lungs. We, however, know that he did not do this as he was given an endoscopic examination after the race, looking down the trachea where no blood was found. The second is the dislodging of his soft palate because of holding his breath when put under stress. If this is the reason it will be a rare case as he makes no noise as in most cases the noise is described as a roar, hence the term roarers.

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Last Wednesday was a day of consolidation within the yard, as I had been away for a couple of days trying to find another inmate for the equine health spa which goes by the name of Coles Racing. Sadly we had come home empty-handed, but there are always horses for sale so we will get one — the right one — in time.

On Wednesday evening after afternoon stables I jumped into the iron horse which took me through some bleak blizzards on my way shooting in North Yorkshire. Sammy was left at the helm with the fear that I might not be able to return through the snow! On my arrival after a somewhat tiresome journey, I was pleasantly surprised, as sitting next to the fire was one of my godfathers, Martin Letts, who is the longstanding master of the College Valley/North Northumberland Foxhounds.

Thursdays’ guns included four amateur huntsmen, a steward, a journalist, myself and a couple of others. It was a great boys’ day out with a huge amount of banter and piss-taking. If it moved and was legal it was bagged! I was looked after like a king by my hostess. It felt like turning back the clock discussing hunting, rather than racing, as it is in hunting that my roots lie.

The Arctic Circle, otherwise known as Yorkshire

After a slurp of tea, I was on the road for a quick dinner with my parents before getting home in time to do late night-stables — when the horses get their last feed, hay and water around 10.30pm. So Sammy could sigh a sigh of relief as I had returned from, what had felt like, roughly 100 miles north of the Arctic Circle! One can only imagine the thoughts of those birds that had migrated from the snow to be followed by realms of the stuff.

I am like all trainers, I am sure, in loathing that fluffy white stuff. One should go to France to ski, not down Warren Hill. We in Newmarket are unbelievably lucky with the Jockey Club Estates as their groundsmen do a fantastic job in keeping the gallops open regardless of the minus-13 degrees temperature which we have seen.

The programme book is looking particularly bleak at the moment as one can barely predict a meeting that is not going to be abandoned.

At least she wants to eat!

On Friday morning I got my first glimpse of Batya in daylight. She is a German-owned filly who had arrived the day before while Sammy was at the helm. She’s a striking bay filly with a large white blaze with four (well not quite with four white socks but) white stockings. This filly by Whipper has a flowing action and a wonderful temperament under the saddle, if not quite so agreeable when shown her food! It is a massive attribute for a filly to want to eat, because when one does not wish to eat it makes it extremely difficult to train them as they fall away to nothing, so I am quite agreeable to a filly who tells one to get out of the stable when she is eating.

In the afternoon after morning stables a little research was done on finding a company to provide some much-needed clothing for the ever-growing staff. First on the list were hat silks — royal blue with an orange pompom, quite entertaining as one can be seen for miles looking like a giant kingfisher perched on top of one’s mount, instead of a branch above a pool of fish.

Saturday saw most of the yard have a gallop and all that were put through their paces were pleasing. Rich And Reckless, a three-year-old Starcraft filly which I have recently leased to a partnership of mainly friends, was very pleasing in only her second piece of work after a long lay-off. It would be amazing if we could get a win from her sometime in January or the beginning of February. Saturday also saw the arrival of a Balmont colt from Tara Stud whom I hope to syndicate in due course.

We can all dream…

It is at this time of the year that one is allowed to dream. The yearlings in the yard could be anything and we could be sitting on a Coventry winner, Queen Mary winner, Guineas winner or even a Derby hope. One has to be an eternal optimist in this game as when the blows come, and they do come, one can see at least a shimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.

It was Sammy’s weekend off but thankfully Sunday was an easy day as most of the yard had stretched their legs at speed the day before. I had also given Sammy the Monday off as she had worked like a slave for me the previous week. Hard work is a prerequisite if one works for me, but even I know when the wick is running low!

Keyaza’s owner, Sam Hoskins, a good friend, had come to Newmarket for a Thoroughbred Breeders’ Association Next Generation committee meeting. Killing two birds with one stone, he came to see his giant Azamour filly ridden. She is rather nice, albeit mammoth, and if Lady Luck is on Sam’s and my side, she will prove to be as big a star on the racecourse as she is in size.

Tuesday was back into the routine of our daily equine spa. The horses are at three different stages. There are those yearlings which have been and are being broken, older horses in preparation for a winter-spring campaign, and lastly those ticking over soon to be back in the thick of things for an early start to the next turf season.

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Last Wednesday morning was fairly uneventful, but the afternoon proved to be something more exciting in that it was the third day of the sales at Tattersalls. There was a fairly large consignment of blue-blooded fillies and mares coming from Juddmonte Farms. I was extremely lucky that a new owner of mine decided to buy Main Attraction, a three-year-old filly by Zamindar, previously in training in France. Fortunately, I can speak a little French and, so far, we have got on like a house on fire.

Main Attraction was ridden for the first time since she had arrived from France on Thursday morning. She was, one might say, typically French, and rather headstrong until she realised she was fighting a losing battle whereupon she diplomatically ran up the white flag! In all seriousness, she seems rather nice and will be a joy to train.

The British Horseracing Authority also decided that it would put on an extra card at Southwell the following Monday. Main Beach would run in the mile and six furlong juvenile National Hunt Flat race.

A friend for Littlemisssunshine

Early in the afternoon, I was offered a companion for Littlemisssunshine (pictured above) in the form of Love Is More. She is rather a rare customer, having come from Sir Mark Prescott’s yard without a run under her belt, and is, to my knowledge, the only four-year-old Azamour filly (she was born on 28th December 2006). My thanks go to her previous owners who have very kindly given her to me.

After a year of keeping Littlemisssunshine company I may well be tempted to bring her back into training to try and get her to win a race, something I am sure that Sir Mark would be gladly proud of if we do achieve the seemingly impossible! She is extremely well bred and probably deserves another chance.

Friday morning was another bitterly cold morning and after a long morning I made the short journey to my parents’ home for a bite of food and to collect my musket. I was back in time to do evening stables to view the ever-increasing string!

A bit of shooting and a chilly trip to Southwell

Saturday morning was fairly sharp as it was bitterly cold and the trainer was off to play with some friends in the afternoon. After an early morning I made it in time for the second drive at a friend’s shoot not far from Newmarket. It was a superb change to the rigours of training and a good opportunity to catch up with some old mates. Being so close to Newmarket, I was able to be back in the yard, albeit slightly late, for evening stables.

Sunday was a gallop morning for most of the horses who are getting ready for a winter campaign. For Brent Pelham it was his first piece of faster work, which was eagerly watched by his Swedish owner and some of her friends. He was, as expected, rather green but showed promise. Rich And Reckless showed a great temperament and was pleasing, while Nineteensixtysix is now on the path to becoming a lady’s hunter! My next challenge for him before the final decision is made is to see if he can run out of sight on a dark night. Unlikely!

Monday was an entertaining day on more than one front. I had planned to take my first day off since starting training as I had been invited to shoot south of the New Forest. However, Main Beach was due to run at Southwell the same day so the horses had to be done by both Sammy and I before we left for our different destinations. As most of the horses had galloped the day before it was the perfect day for them to have a day off.

I left Newmarket with a friend on board who is also due to join the training ranks imminently. He gleefully pointed out to me that I must have settled into the rigours of training as I was willing to let my staff look after a runner while I went shooting for the day. Thankfully, the horse is owned by my mother, who had taken strict instructions from me how and when to help Sammy with the giant Main Beach. He as a creditable third, just running out of puff towards the end of the race. All three — Sammy, my mother and Main Beach — seem to have enjoyed sunny Southwell at minus 11.5 degrees…

I had a fantastic day with some good friends and returned refreshed, albeit exhausted, even though after lunch I could not have hit a London bus at 20 yards. I don’t even have the excuse of drinking as I don’t drink!

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Last Wednesday had started in a decent fashion as we reminisced about Main Beach’s, decent debut run at Lingfield the previous day. However, we were brought swiftly back to reality by the confirmation that Dear Maurice (pictured) had sustained a fracture on his last start.

Under an ultrasound scan it was clear that there was both some old damage and new damage. He, therefore, will be sent to my parents’ home to keep Littlemisssunshine company until it is time for her to be covered and for him to return to training.

On Wednesday evening I went for dinner with a foreign owner of mine in Newmarket. While discussing the Maginot Line and the Treaty of Versailles, we had a fun evening and I was rather late getting into my nest.

Why didn’t Charlie’s Boy run better?

Thursday saw what has been common of late — an ungodly early start to prepare for Charlie’s Boy’s debut run at Uttoxeter in the last race.

After riding four lots, Sammy and I departed for the racecourse. On arrival it was clear that the weather had changed. There was a biting northerly wind and most of the National Hunt crowd were buried beneath a sea of tweed and fur. Thankfully, I had rather a large amount of the first!

Charlie’s Boy’s owner, Mrs Hamilton, had come in force with her family and a friend to watch jockey Dominic Elsworth strut his stuff. Unfortunately, Charlie’s Boy did not run as expected and was a tailed-off last. I am still at a loss as to why this was as at home he can gallop with Main Beach, who had two days prior run a very close fourth to what looks to be a superstar in the making — Roger Charlton’s Keys.

After a little scuffle with the vets at Uttoxeter I decided to get Charlie’s Boy home so that he could be checked out on his return. Fortunately, and unfortunately, there seems to be nothing wrong. Fortunate that nothing is wrong but unfortunate that, as yet, I can find no reason for his poor run.

Friday saw Mrs Hamilton once again travel the length and breadth of the country, this time to see her beloved Melody Belle being galloped with an endoscope down her throat. The news was somewhat better than the day before and the filly has no problems. She will be given a short break before returning for a late spring campaign.

Lycidas gets above himself

My German owner appeared on Saturday morning to see his Lycidas be ridden for the third time. It was a somewhat amusing experience as Lycidas is not your usual yearling. He has the size and strength of most two-year-olds and knows it! I hope that his owner was reasonably impressed by his steed; however, if he were not, he is not the type of person to be diplomatic and I am sure would have let me know.

Ed Walker, a good friend, who has just joined the training ranks, had the dream start to his career on Saturday afternoon. Riggins, under William Buick, won the Listed race at Kempton as Ed’s very first runner.

My staff [Sammy and Emily] had the weekend off, so I was on my own when the bad weather struck on Sunday. The afternoon was spent perusing the fillies and mares at Tattersalls prior to the sales beginning on Monday. The sale ground would not have been out of place in Scott’s great trip to the Antarctic. I must have been wearing at least 14 layers and still felt as though I had been chilled to the bone.

Freezing pipes and a new acquisition

Monday was quite a busy day, with Cotton King returning for a winter campaign on the all-weather and keeping my finger on the pulse at the sales. Newmarket had been frozen over night, but not as badly as my parents’ home in Leicestershire where Littlemisssunshine’s water had to be filled from the bathroom upstairs as the pipes had frozen both outside and downstairs in the house!

A friend of mine called in a favour in the evening as he had just bought a mare for his old headmaster and needed somewhere to stable it until the snow subsides in the Borders of Scotland and the horse can go to its new home.

I also received a telephone call at 10.45pm at night. It’s rare that I answer the telephone this late, but it was lucky I did.

“Toby, I think I might have just done something quite stupid. I have just bought a filly,” the voice said.

Another friend of mine had just bought a three-year-old Azamour filly and needed a trainer. Without hesitation I offered my services and picked said beastie up from the sales at 4.35am this morning. While walking through the town with this three-year-old filly, all dressed in fluorescence, those at the gates at Tattersalls must have thought that I was trying to steal her. However, they duly let me past when I showed the appropriate paperwork.

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Last Tuesday was spent trying to find one’s way through the fog. Melody Belle and I left for Southwell rather early, leaving Sammy behind to deal with the motley crew known as Coles Racing.

Melody Belle had left her band of brothers to fight in the mile maiden on the sand at Southwell. Thankfully, the fog had decided to lift by the time she was to take her place, as spotting a grey in the mist could have been quite tricky. Mrs Hamilton had made the journey from her home in South Wales to watch her two-year-old filly line up against at least one Derby entrant.

The Godolphin runner duly obliged and came home an easy winner. Melody Belle, on the other hand, sandwiched the field by coming in at the tail. She had not had things go her way and was somewhat disappointing. Thankfully, today she was given a handicap mark and we will draw swords again some time in the spring.

While at sunny Southwell I was met by a chap from Durham who introduced himself as a friend of a new owner of mine. He gleefully told me that he had been abusing his friend by telling him about how his trainer (me) was wearing the most ridiculous coloured trousers. I proceeded to inform him that at least he had noticed them!

Emily joins the team

Wednesday brought with it a new face, for I had just taken on a new member of staff. Emily is to work on the ground getting the horses ready for Sammy and I to ride, and do them up when we return. Something I learnt from school — the division of labour and the expression “many hands make light work” are, as I have found out, very true.

This division of labour is not very English; it is something I learnt in both America and Australia and is massively time-saving. While Sammy and I are out on one lot of horses Emily can get the next lot ready for us, so that when we return we can go straight back out on the next lot while she can do the two up which we have just returned on. The system, at the moment, seems to be working well.

On Wednesday afternoon it was time for Lycidas to take the plunge into the real world and start to be broken. For this we had some help from one of Rae Guest’s lads, Steve, who used to break most of Darley’s yearlings a few years back. Thankfully, Lycidas has taken to being broken like a duck to water.

Thursday was not particularly interesting other than acquiring a job lot of rugs, something that it looks like we will be in much need of this next week, as Britain faces an arctic blast.

Littlemisssunshine starts her second career

Friday morning was a slightly early start as I was to take to the road with Littlemisssunshine. However, before this we had an entertaining morning in which a new addition to Coles Racing, Brent Pelham, decided he was going to try his luck. Poor Sammy was to take the brunt of his obstinacy, something that riles both her and me. A quick swap of mounts and an abrupt correction saw Brent Pelham on his merry way.

Littlemisssunshine had now spent long enough in her box after suffering the injury in her last race and was now being taken to my parents’ for the rest of her recovery and, what will hopefully be, an exciting broodmare career. After some brunch with the parents I was back on the road to wind my way to Castle View Stud and Matthew Mackley, where Rich And Reckless and Nineteensixtysix were blissfully unaware of my approach. I think that they both knew full well what lies ahead as they entered the horsebox though — blood, tears and sweat, and hopefully success!

On Saturday morning Main Beach and Charlie’s Boy had their last gallop before they take to the racecourse for the first time. Both were pleasing in their work and hopefully will be exciting prospects for later on.

Dear Maurice injures himself

Saturday also saw Dear Maurice return to the racecourse over a reduced six furlongs, this time sporting a pair of visors. Tom McLaughlin took the ride and was happy to be reunited with this old friend of his as Dear Maurice used to be with Tom McLaughlin’s main employer, Ed Dunlop. The race was somewhat rougher than would have been ideal. Dear Maurice was nearly brought to his knees but despite this ran on for a very creditable third place.

On our return I just slightly questioned his wellbeing when coming off the horsebox. We left him for the night to reassess in the morning, when we discovered that our luck was out. He looks to have sustained a fracture somewhere in his hind end, which we will confirm on Wednesday when he is to be scanned. He will have sustained the injury when being interfered with during the race.

Sunday was not as the man upstairs intended as we worked it as a normal day. After the morning’s work was done it was time for a deluge of owners and, hopefully, potential owners to visit my yard. First on the list were the owners of Brent Pelham. Second were friends who work in the City who originate from New Zealand. Third was a friend who had come up for the sales so that I could see what type of horse she liked so, when buying for her, I could make a decision without her having to be there.

Monday was a spent mostly at the sales and in preparation for Main Beach’s belated entrée to the racecourse.

Tuesday was that all-anticipated day when Main Beach made his debut. It was in a National Hunt Flat race over a mile and five furlongs at Lingfield on the all-weather, and looked on paper to be an extremely hot bumper. Dominic Elsworth took the ride and rode exactly as instructed, finishing a very game fourth having circled the field from last in the home bend.

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This past week was conducted at the usual manic pace. Wednesday began with preparations for Eastern Chariot’s much-anticipated first trip to the racecourse. Sammy and the filly left bound for a one-mile six-furlong National Hunt bumper at Huntingdon. The Racing Post had stated that she was unlikely to prove my first winner over the jumps!

While Sammy was stuck in traffic on the infamous A14, I was taking Charlie’s Boy for his first schooling session in company. He was to go with one of my landlord’s horses who has run a couple of times over hurdles. Both schooled very well and I was pleased with Charlie’s Boy’s empathy with a hurdle. After doing Charlie’s Boy up I jumped into my Czechoslovakian Rolls Royce (Skoda) and set off in hot pursuit of Eastern Chariot to Huntingdon.

What you should know about Eastern Chariot is that despite being knee-height to a grasshopper and as thin as a rake, she has the heart of a lion. When going round the parade ring, the next smallest horse must have been at least a hand and a half bigger than her. However, cantering down to the start under Mr Richard Collinson, she didn’t look that out of place. I hope she had been noticed in the ring, not for the lack of her size, but for how well she looked, because she did look a picture.

I now know why National Hunt Bumpers have the word bumper in them. To me it looked more like the front row of an international rugby union scrum! She didn’t disappoint and ran as expected, beating a few home, some of who were considerably shorter in the market than she had been.

Thursday was a relatively easy morning on the yard and after four lots I disappeared off to Leicestershire to see the horses with Matthew Mackley. Both Rich And Reckless and Nineteensixtysix looked in great shape and will join me shortly. Cotton King seems to be enjoying his life of leisure. Unbeknownst to him it will end with an abrupt bang as he returns to me and full training at the beginning of next month. Lastly, the Royal Applause filly yearling, now named Skyblue, is progressing at a rate of knots and looks fantastic.

A barber in waiting

My parents’ home is just around the corner from Matthew’s so I went home for a bite of luncheon. However, hiding behind the curtain was the barber, as my father had planned an attack as soon as he knew I was on my way. Despite my continuous moans and groans about having my hair cut, I have to admit Ian (the barber) does do a very good job. Not only this, he seems to take a great interest in how our horses run and does not mind leaving his barber’s shop unattended while attacking my unkempt mop.

Friday saw the anticipated return to the racecourse of Dear Maurice. He strolled in an average fifth and will sport a pair of go-faster goggles the next time he returns. Friday night traffic on the M25 and M11 was something not to be desired; it felt like I was parked on the biggest parking lot this side of the late iron curtain.

New horses in the yard

Saturday morning was a good gallop morning for Main Beach and Charlie’s Boy, both of whom went together, Main Beach under me and Charlie’s Boy under Dicky Collinson. They went over a mile on the Cambridge Road polytrack. Both were pleasing in the way they galloped. I then jumped into the little lorry I often hire to head for a village in the depths of Hertfordshire, Brent Pelham, to collect an unraced three-year-old colt by Royal Applause, aptly named Brent Pelham.

Saturday also saw the collection of a yearling by Medicean (pictured above) from a fellow trainer — something which is embarrassing but part of the business. Thankfully he was very understanding and wished us all the luck in the world. It was Sammy’s weekend off which she massively deserved and probably needed. I can only imagine what it must be like working with me day in, day out, for the last seven months!

Sunday morning was an early start as I wanted to ride most of the horses and I was by myself. Main Beach had come through his gallop well and, for such a big horse, can squeal like a little pig when enjoying himself. I decided to grab the bull by the horns and take Brent Pelham on to the Heath. He is a magnificent-looking beast and made sure that everyone knew it as he screamed his head off from start to finish, something which will probably take a couple of weeks until he grows up and learns that boarding school is for the big boys!

I also decided that I would break in the new yearling colt. The previous trainer had got him to the stage of someone lying across his back. I spent quite some time playing with him in his stable teaching him that he could trust me. By the time I had finished I could play “round the world” without a second thought. I then took him outside and led him around where I was going to ride him. Once I had gained his trust and he had got used to the surroundings I jumped on. He never looked back and was very forward while being cautious under me. A good morning all in all.

Once again my surrogate family gave me a wonderful Sunday luncheon and I somewhat struggled to leave the table as I had eaten so much. In fact I had eaten too much, my stomach was not very happy with me as I had trebled it in size and in turn I was rather ill through the night. I now know what King John felt like when he died from over-eating.

Monday morning came around rather fast, and with it a sharp frosty morning. With the leaves having fallen, it would have been a perfect scenting morning. I will hopefully see the hunting field at least once this year, even if it is after second horses. I long for the thrill of the chase!

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Not a very exciting week began with a day paying the bills. Once again one wishes money grew on trees. However, it does not, so with the abrupt truth staring me in the face I sat down with a large mug of tea and began number crunching. Thankfully I am not too bad with sums, and somehow, God knows how, we washed our face last month. Despite not having a winner, it was a good month!

With the sums somehow levelling up, it was time to do something I hate nearly as much as the bills — clipping. Most people in the Flat racing world do a trace clip. I, on the other hand, am not most people, and decided to take the whole lot off. I keep the horses very heavily rugged so it does not make too much of a difference to them, and when out of the stable a full clip looks very smart. But to be honest the main reason is convenience; without a long coat, the sweat and mud is far easier to clean off.

Although it important to make the job slightly easier where ever possible, corners should never be cut in the process. To once again go back to my mentor, Sir Mark Prescott once told me that at all times your horses should look as good as they can. If they are useless, they should still look at their best. As well as looking great they must be smart, as if they look both well and smart, even if they do come last someone would have noticed them. So all have to be fully clipped — well not all of them. The yearlings I have will not be clipped; they will be left lightly rugged until January.

Thursday and Friday were full of the same, clipping and keeping the horses ticking over. It had taken nearly two weeks for Main Beach to get over his little tumble on the road. He was stiff each and every morning, but this stiffness was getting less and less each day, and it took until last Thursday for me to be satisfied fully with the way he was moving.

A good work morning

Saturday morning was slightly more interesting — it was a gallop morning for most of the horses in the yard. Main Beach and Dear Maurice (pictured) worked together on the flat gallop on Racecourse Side. Both were kept on the bridle, and worked well within themselves. Saturday was the last day the flat gallop was open, and we got every penny’s worth we could! Charlie’s Boy and Eastern Chariot worked together on the Cambridge Road all-weather track.

Richard Collinson, a name from my past in the point-to-pointing world, came to ride Eastern Chariot as he rides her on Wednesday at Huntingdon. I was impressed with Charlie’s Boy’s work out and Eastern Chariot showed her gall and is unlikely to ever give up in a fight. If you were going to war, you would definitely want her on your side. She is knee height to a grasshopper but has the heart of a lion.

Two brilliant girls

Saturday evening was the highlight of the week. The Breeder’s Cup was on the TV, and some of the world’s very best horses were on show. It was actually the girls that were the main attraction. Goldikova and Zenyatta are arguably the best fillies in the world. Goldikova, under a perfect ride from Olivier Peslier, showed why she is regarded as one of the best milers ever as she made light work of a world-class field. Gio Ponti, an old friend of mine, ran second to her, and lost no pride in defeat.

I think everyone’s heart went out to Zenyatta; she was very definitely the best horse in the race, and arguably one of the best horses ever to grace a racecourse. I will leave you to watch her race on a computer if you have not already seen it. It is amazing and horrible in the same sentence.

Where’s that millionaress?

Sunday was back to the realm of reality, and not the dreams of the night before and the wish of a horse like Dangerous Midge, who had won the Breeder’s Cup Turf. Dianne McDougal, my accountant, came to see if I had done my sums correctly. Thank goodness they were not too far out, but the stress had taken its toll. Looking in the mirror that morning I noticed a single solitary grey hair. It was swiftly removed and no more will be said on the matter. I was relying on the fact that I would still look like a baby faced 24-year-old when I am 40! Unlikely to be the case now, so I had better get my act together and find a beautiful millionairess to keep me in horseflesh for the rest of my days.

Monday was as every Monday morning usually is — the horses had come through their respective gallops without a blemish and were feeling “top of the morning!” Dear Maurice, who had politely put Sammy on her feet three times last week, thought it a great idea to do the same to me. I am rather like many trainers in Newmarket — I love seeing loose horses, it means they are feeling well, and rather happy with themselves. Monday also saw the arrival of some truly hideous weather at about mid-day, and thankfully Sammy and I were done by the time the heavens opened.

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Last Wednesday started full of expectation as Cotton King was to run in the two-mile 0-65 handicap at Nottingham. Sammy and I had started in what felt like the middle of the night to get the other horses done. Sammy and Cotton King hitched a lift with one of Rae Guest’s horses that was running in the same race, while I stayed in the yard to finish off and give the remainder their lunch. I left for Nottingham with a Swede in the passenger seat. Not that I have gone vegetarian — it was a friend who was riding in the lady amateurs’ race.

We had gone to the races with a little bit of confidence and Mrs Hamilton, a friend of hers and both my parents had come to watch Cotton King. He looked magnificent, and a picture going down to the start. But he got stuck in the mud, and ran no real race.

Miss Zetterholm, who was riding for Stuart Williams on a horse that had just arrived from Italy, fared slightly better and, given a clear run — which is almost an impossibility in a ladies’ amateur race — would have been close to the action at the sharp end.

The journey back would have near enough been unbearable without the company; it had been a massive disappointment of a day. I have never really shown my emotions in public, and don’t intend to start, but it was good to have someone in the car with me on the return journey to keep me from driving off a bridge!

No time to feel sorry for ourselves

Thursday was a little dull to be honest; both Sammy and I were slightly down. But there was no time for feeling sorry for oneself. It was Melody Belle’s turn to take to the racecourse on Saturday. We had to get the preparation just right, as in her last start things had not gone to plan. She was to take on the who’s who of trainers, owners and some of the very best fillies of her age, a fearsome task for any horse.

That evening a couple of friends put together some supper. It was only as I went through the door I remembered they are vegetarian! Despite feeling like an overgrown rabbit, it was rather good. However I drew the line when they said they were going to do a vegan week this week. What on earth happened to a good hearty meal? I might even have to cook for myself…

A better run from Melody Belle

Saturday started rather well. Lion Tamer, a three-year-old with a good friend of mine in New Zealand, won Australia’s Victoria Derby by an ever-increasing six lengths. It is just Bjorn Baker’s second full year training in partnership with his father. I have rather a lot to compete with, but just give me the horse, and we will show those colonials!

Melody Belle (pictured above) was ridden as if it a normal day before her run as she is slightly highly strung. Any change in her day may have made her a little anxious. An hour before her race at Newmarket Sammy and I walked her over to the racecourse. She was far more relaxed than she had been before her first start and when Sophie Doyle was legged up the filly seemed to be far happier than she had been at Salisbury. As she went down to the start, I had just two wishes; firstly she had a good experience, and secondly, that she didn’t disgrace us. She did both!

We beat The Queen’s horse, Hopscotch, but there were a further 10 in front of us who were closer to being hung for treason than us. Our filly came home without a blemish and seemed to enjoy the outing. I met Mrs Hamilton with her daughter, my parents and a friend of hers for some tea to discuss the outcome. We all came away feeling pleased that she had run a good race.

Sunday passed without a hiccup. Sammy was off for the weekend, and I spent it with my horses. Monday was like playing musical horses. I took Cotton King to a pre-training yard I use in Leicestershire for a freshen-up. Then lunch with my parents, then to see a National Hunt horse I am going to train in a month or so, followed by a drive north to Limestone Stud to pick up the Royal Applause filly we bought at Doncaster seven weeks ago. She has also gone to the pre-trainer, and will join us in Newmarket in about five weeks.

On my return to Newmarket I met with a dinner invitation for some venison and apple crumble, something I could not turn down. None of this vegan nonsense!

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Last Tuesday Sammy and I embarked on a trip with Littlemisssunshine to Lingfield, where we met my co-owner and his cousin, one of whom had come all the way down from the Borders of Scotland to watch Littlemisssunshine in a six-furlong 0-70 handicap with Liam Keniry on board. She looked a picture in the pre-parade ring with her coat gleaming, in typical sprinter style, muscles rippling.

Things did not go to plan. Littlemisssunshine seemed to be uncomfortable from the start. However, being as tough as she is — the softest part of her is her shoes — she finished the race. It was obvious there was something amiss as, when returning to the stable yard, she looked distressed. I made the decision that it was not life-threatening and, therefore, I would get her home as quickly as possible. If any speed cameras did catch me on my return, I’ll send the bill and the points to her!

The vet was waiting when we got back and confirmed my suspicions of a stress fracture of her pelvis. Thankfully, it is not too serious, but it has ended her racing career. She will remain in her box until deemed able to go on the walker, where she will spend four weeks before being turned out, and then start her “very promising” broodmare career, something she will undoubtedly enjoy. God help any stallion she takes a dislike to — her name, Littlemisssunshine, could not be further from the truth!

Wednesday was a day spent consoling myself. It had come as a bitter blow to both Sammy and me as she had become part of the furniture and was our first winner.

A bit of jumping practise

Wednesday also saw Charlie’s Boy, a four-year-old National Hunt horse, school over fences for the first time. I did not have a lead horse for him and therefore he had no choice other than to do it by himself! He jumped the first two hurdles with gusto. The second time over the two hurdles I made the decision to kick on over the chase fences. To be honest, the feeling was rather like kicking an untried hireling into an iron gate on to the road out hunting! Thankfully, this hireling can jump. He made short work of the four chase fences before the open ditch loomed. He had jumped so well that I thought it best not to take the chance of frightening him over the open ditch. We’ll leave that for another day.

Thursday — the first hard frost of winter (I hate the cold). Of the eight horses I have in, seven refused to get out of bed, something with which I sympathised. Cotton King and Main Beach did a little piece of work up Long Hill Grass and both pleased their trainer. After morning stables I went to my parents’ home for a good feed and to look at Rich And Reckless and Nineteensixtysix, both of whom had been at home in the field for a rest before embarking upon a winter campaign on the Flat. Much to my mother’s dismay, as I left, I told her they were going the very next day.

Friday was a relatively relaxed day; most of it spent thumbing through the Horses in Training catalogue trying to pick out a future superstar for Coles Racing.

Dear Maurice is placed again

On Saturday, after a normal morning, my mother appeared. She was going to be my co-pilot to Kempton with Dear Maurice in the hold. Dear Maurice ran at 9.15pm in the six-furlong 0-75 handicap where he finished a creditable third, just lacking a burst of speed towards the finish. He will undoubtedly do better over slightly further but has now been given two sharp runs over six furlongs, which will surely have woken him up. I could not hide my slight disappointment as there is nothing worse than coming second or third. In both his starts for me he has been both bridesmaid and pageboy. I will get him to be the groom, regardless of how shy he may be to long-term commitment…

Sunday started rather well. It was a crisp morning, with no one on the heath. The superb Sammy and I had it to ourselves apart from the odd dog walker. Despite the frost the ground was pretty perfect to gallop on. Four of them were put through their paces and went as expected. If things go as expected, it may not be a boost, but it is not a blow, so it is rather like the saying “No news is good news!”

Sunday was the first day of viewing of the horses in training sales. It is a massive catalogue with a huge number of horses, many that are other people’s rubbish. However, there will be a couple of diamonds, and hopefully one that might slip the net!

I was to be joined by a friend for the sales, in case we found one of these rare diamonds slipping the net. She met with a very nasty car crash on Sunday morning. An oncoming car in the middle of the road, by all accounts. One child died in the other car. My friend is alive, and conscious, but I don’t know any more. Be this a lesson to everyone at this time of year — frost, fallen leaves, and water on the road are very dangerous. Please be careful, I am sure that everyone who reads this knows at least someone who has been in a bad crash.

Sunday ended with taking a blood sample from Cotton King. On Monday, after some light exercise Cotton King was scoped, showed a clean trachea wash and some good blood results and I declared him to run at Nottingham on Wednesday over two miles, a further step-up in trip, which should see a little improvement, I hope.

Back up to the sales, to try and find that uncut diamond. It seems as though some others have the same methods of detection, and they have been just out of reach for me! Sammy has been an absolute super star over the past few weeks. It has been very hard work for her, as it has been sales season. It may be time to get another member of staff shortly.

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The week started on a little bit of a low — Cotton King had to be withdrawn from his race at Lingfield due to a small temperature. At this time of year it is quite a common occurrence because of the change in weather, temperature, and in turn a change in their coats, and with this in mind, I threw the kitchen sink at him: antibiotics. Thankfully I think we caught it in time and stopped it before it became a problem. He is now once again bursting out of his skin and will hopefully run on the 27 October, all being well. But knowing him, he might thumb the page in the veterinary handbook and pick another ailment.

On Wednesday I was still in the deepest depths of prostituting myself at the sales. However, I was given a lifeline when I was asked to go and look at a yearling a couple of hours away, which I am to train. I just need to find someone to take on half of her. Funnily enough, I now know what Mr Cameron feels like — having gained the reins of control in these bleak economic times, survival is paramount. But surviving is one thing that humans are good at, along with killing each other.

This yearling filly has been given the best possible start to life, and it is now down to me that she fulfils her potential. While visiting her, I saw her older half-brother to see how she may turn out. His life story sounds like one of my semi-believable ones: he was trained in France when a plane crashed into his stables. He was set on fire, ending his very promising racing career! True…

Despite the respite of Wednesday it was back to the sales on Thursday and Friday, ending on Saturday. It was here that I once again learnt how cutthroat this industry really is. I found out on the grape vine that a horse I was hoping to train had gone to another trainer. All one can do is dust oneself down and get back into the ring.

Forthcoming runners and a real superhorse

On Friday Sammy and I galloped most of the yard, all of which went as expected. Littlemisssunshine runs today (Tuesday) at Lingfield, Dear Maurice on Saturday, and Cotton King on the 27th.

Main Beach, Eastern Chariot, and Charlie’s Boy will run in the middle of November. Lycidas, the half brother to Prix de l’Opera winner Lady Marian, thinks himself to be Manchester United’s replacement for Wayne Rooney. He has a football in his stable to keep him occupied, and now shows the talents of a premier league footballer — if better educated!

Saturday saw what was an amazing spectacle in anybody’s books. Henry Cecil’s unbeaten two-year-old Frankel stamped himself as a real superstar (see picture above). And so he should have — having been given the name Frankel he had to be a superstar. Bobby Frankel was one of the very best trainers America has seen; he trained many of Prince Khalid Abdullah’s horses to win the big races on the other side of the pond. I just hope in seventy-odd years when I have gone back to from where I came, there is another superstar running by the name of “Coles”!

It was lovely to see Mr Cecil and his wife so happy after the victory — relief, they had been vindicated.

Sammy’s out of luck

Sammy had the weekend off, and how she deserved it. She has worked like a slave for me since the sales had begun, and it was beginning to tell as she was coming down with a cold. My instructions to her for her weekend off were to go to bed, and don’t get out until Monday! I think she did as she was told, as she seems vastly improved.

However Monday mornings are not so much fun — for some reason, even though my horses get ridden every day, Monday is always interesting, as they are as fresh as can be! Just before we got onto our first lot, I saw a rather strange sight — Sammy jumping up and down on a brand new coat.

“What on earth are you doing?” I asked.

Her response was: “I hate new clothes, something always goes wrong!”

Well it did; while she was riding Main Beach he slipped and fell. It was a long way to fall, as he is BIG. Watching it, it looked like a giant tree being felled in the Amazon, followed by an earthquake as he hit the floor. Thankfully both are ok, if a little sore.

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It’s been a real week of the ups and the downs in the racing world. It began on a strong note; I had made some new friends at the sales and somehow had persuaded them, after selling a yearling colt very well, to send me their other horse that was not going to go through the ring. This other horse just happens to be a half brother to a champion. It will be an honour to train it for them.

It seems there were some undercurrents persuading these newfound owners to send me this horse, and for that I am truly grateful. It is an amazing feeling to be sent a half brother to a truly great horse in just my first year. Please, please don’t let me bugger it up! He would not seem out of place amongst the top two-year-olds, and does wonders for the class of the Coles Racing inmates!

How do I get noticed?

Book One of the Tattersalls yearling sales is, to be honest, well out of my league. There were buyers not only from Europe, but all over the world present. I now know what it feels like to be a tiny little minnow in a great ocean. What could I do to get this little minnow seen?

Well, obviously wearing the brightest, most obnoxious pair of cords possible was first on the list. Second was to try and say hello to everyone, and when I say everyone I mean everyone, from the powerhouses of the racing industry, (Miss K Rausing, and Chris Richardson from Cheveley Park Stud) to those at the roots, leading each and every yearling through the ring. It is one thing that I am not too bad at, saying hello, but it is then the next bit I struggle at: selling myself. I do not enjoy “prostituting” myself for all to see, but it has to be done.

During the sales, each and every day seems to be the same as the next, so distinguishing between each one is rather difficult. Friday is a day that is easy to pick out as we galloped most of the yard. Littlemisssunshine, who is notoriously strong in her gallops, went well, and will probably run on the 19 October. Cotton King and Melody Belle went together for just a little blow-out, and Eastern Chariot with Main Beach went over a mile at three quarter pace, or in American language 15 seconds a furlong. It was a pleasing morning and all came home without injury.

Who the hell gets married during the sales?

Saturday was a great day. One of my very best friends got married; another ship sunk! It was a lovely wedding, and a great break from the day-to-day routine of the sales. But who the hell gets married during the sales?! Being an usher I think one was supposed to be rather respectable. I was far from it, leaving just after the first dance. I had to try and get home before the sun rose as Sunday was a normal day, having galloped all the horses on the Friday. On the way home I received a call from an old friend, which kept me from falling asleep at the wheel.

Sunday was back to the sales and viewing as many horses as I possibly could before the selling began on Monday. Head down and nose to the grind stone! Melody Belle was to run at Salisbury on Monday, so to miss the traffic on the Monday morning she went down with Sammy on Sunday. Melody Belle would have had no idea what she was going to encounter, just the thought of changing hotels, something she probably would not have wanted to do, as leaving the luxury spa in Newmarket she had become accustomed to for the camp bed in a Nissan hut at Salisbury was not that comfortable!

Monday meant a very, very early start, even for me. 2.50am is in the realms of unhealthy in anybody’s books, but it had to be done. The traffic on the M25 on a Monday morning is rather like a giant single, or in some cases a multi-story, car park!

After riding out I rushed home to change and head for Salisbury. Melody Belle had quite enjoyed her camping trip so far, but was rather shocked when I arrived with the saddle… She was quite fresh in the parade ring and thought it rather fun to put the fear of God into her pilot by bucking as he got on. My thoughts of how she ran will remain my own, as it may be fairly difficult to print them!

Tuesday morning was a little frustrating as Cotton King, who was declared for tomorrow, had a very slight temperature — he will not run. Most annoying as it looked a race he could have won.

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Where does one begin? So much happens in a week that it is hard to remember it all.

Last Tuesday I was lucky enough to go to Lordship Stud, owned by the Harrises. I looked at their yearlings which, unsurprisingly, were lovely. They are what all small studs would wish for in a draft of yearlings — they had a real Classic feel about them, and it would not be a surprise to see anyone of them cruising around Tattenham Corner in two years time.

Wednesday was not as busy as first planned because Melody Belle was withdrawn from her first start. I was not quite happy with her shins. She is in the best form she has ever been in, but (there is always a but!) I was not quite happy enough with her to run her. Sir Mark Prescott taught me that you can always run in another race, but you can’t take back a race you have already run in. If you are not 100% happy, you can’t run. It is not fair on the horse, its owner, or yourself. You may damage the horse, sour the owner, and regret the decision, none of which one needs, as enough things go wrong without doing something purposefully wrong. So we did not run.

Oh, how could I forget Thursday — it was that time of the month again. And yes, I am sure this is more painful than PMT: bill day. My mother had come down for the day, with my father, whom we duly packed off to the races. My father, mother, paperwork, and I equal a Big BANG. So father was sent on his way, and battle commenced, only this time I came out with a wing down. My maths from school taught me that incomings should be at least equal, if not greater, to one’s outgoings. However I did my sums, I could not the bloody lines level! Life goes on; just don’t tell the bank manager.

Will Maurice start to pay his way?

Friday arrived in the nick of time, as on Thursday a short fall off a long drop would have been preferable! Friday was back to the normal: organised chaos.

We had a runner — Dear Maurice (pictured) was in a six-furlong race at Lingfield. Dear Maurice is a six-year-old Indian Ridge gelding who cost £240,000 as a yearling. It seems a little expensive now as he has only won about £15,000 of that back! He had not run for 344 days and had never run over less than a mile. I was putting my neck on the line by saying we should start him out on his first run for us over just six furlongs. Was I mad? Probably.

As Dear Maurice went to the start under Ian Mongan, it dawned on me how little work we had really done with him, and how fat he still was… Had I just made my own noose from which I was now destined to hang? Thank goodness, he ran a cracking race, and was beaten just a length into second, 31/2 lengths in front of the next horse. Three lengths does not seem that much but in sprinting terms it is light years (well, that’s what I told the owners!). He ran a superb race, having lost about four lengths at the start leaving the stalls. He was then posted five horses wide the whole way. When entering the home straight he ran on strongly, and looks as though he can sprint! He earned just £900 in coming second, which still leaves a deficit of £224,100. That is one hell of a mission we have to get that back…

Plucking a diamond from a sales catalogue

Saturday was, as they say, the calm before the storm. For the next God knows how long, there are the sales at Tattersalls here in Newmarket. I was lucky enough to go racing in the afternoon and see some more horses to put on the Christmas wish list.

In the evening a friend arrived from London and promptly left again for a party. The life of the unemployed!

On Sunday the storm arrived, and with it the weather from hell to look at yearlings in. Wet and windy is not such a good combination for a wafer-thin catalogue page. There are over 600 horses being sold in just the first week of the yearling sales, all of which will probably have two too many zeros at the end of their price tags for my owners to get involved. They say one diamond is better than a bucket of mud — what about a whole bucket of diamonds? I was like a child in a sweetie shop without his granny to buy any of the sweets. And it is no use trying to steal one; I think they might notice if it were gone.

Monday was a day much the same as Sunday. Most of it was spent either in the yard tending to the inmates or looking at potential inmates.

Monday also brought some bad news; my Labrador has throat cancer and has to be put down. I may not have spent very much time with him over the past few years but, like all pets, he was very close to me. Not just a friend, but undoubtedly one of the best gun dogs I have been around.

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Toby Coles’ racing diary: a winner and a close second

Last Wednesday was a day spent in preparation for a very busy Thursday. We had two runners at two different courses 132 miles apart! But before that mammoth day I had a look at Hascombe Stud’s yearlings; a truly enviable bunch that, once again, I could only wish for.

Thursday started at an ungodly hour when not even the milkman was stirring. My alarm got me out of bed at 3am to begin mucking out before riding Cotton King (pictured), who ran that night. I picked up the little lorry that I hire at about 6.30am and set off for Pontefract with Littlemisssunshine in the back.

149 miles north up the A1 and we arrived in good time. On taking the colours over to the weighing room I glanced at the course which I hadn’t seen since I was working for Sir Mark Prescott five years ago and my heart sank: I remembered the course being steep, but not like Mount Everest. This was going to be one hell of a climb for my stable star. I had thrown her in the deep end, she had gone up in class, and now had to cope with a mountain, and there was rain on the horizon. This was one thing she could not have coped with — “sunshine” can’t deal with the rain! Thankfully it held off.

My mother and Littlemisssunshine’s co-owner had both come to watch her take her chance. Pontefract is a lovely course — well, for those who watch their horses there. For those who are looking after them it is not such fun — the stable yard is over the summit of “Mount Everest”.

On our walk from the stables to the racecourse Littlemisssunshine took great exception to having to walk across the well-used fairway of the local golf course. When we did eventually make it to the parade ring she was like an untamed lion, dragging me around as though I was not even there. Sophie Doyle, who rode her, did a great job; with Littlemisssunshine the race can be lost going to the start. Sophie rode her to the start beautifully, and even better on the way home. She came second, beaten just half a length by Kieren Fallon, who was on fire that day, riding a three-timer. Damn him! After we had run and Littlemisssunshine had cooled down I took my car that my mother had driven up, and in return she drove the filly back to Newmarket.

On to Wolverhampton — with a happy ending

The journey from Pontefract to Wolverhampton was not so much fun; the weather that had so kindly held off was now making up for it. The heavens opened, and in turn, as seems common, every motorway was closed from Land’s End to John O Groats!

Wolverhampton on a Thursday night in the rain: everyone’s dream night out… I met Sammy there at about 7.30pm. She had got there with Cotton King a couple of hours earlier. Cotton King, who had been subject to a little gamble on the morning line, was in fine fettle, but now friendless in the betting market. I do not gamble, as I could not take the added pressure and do not want to end up in the poor house.

I was shaking like a leaf before the race, and could barely watch as Cotton King was put into the stalls by Gary Witheford. I had given jockey Tom McLaughlin just one order — win. Throw the kitchen sink at him if you have to, just win!

Going past the stable yard Cotton King thought his job was done, but after a quick reminder he was back on his game. He came six horses wide on the last turn as he made his move for the front. After changing his leads, he got into top gear and won by a neck. Naturally I was ecstatic, Sammy was on cloud nine, and well, his owner, the wonderful Mrs Hamilton — who sadly was not able to be there — was probably in disbelief. We had bought Cotton King to help the family (Mrs ‘H’ owns a half-sister to him by Pivotal.)

The amazing feeling was brought down to the ground with a bump as I was called to see the stewards to explain the “huge” improvement in performance. Thankfully I had worked for the Master of Heath House (Sir Mark), who wrote the book on how to deal with the stewards. The book states…read it yourself! On leaving the stewards’ room, their parting quip was: “Don’t forget we know who you have worked for!”

The journey home did not seem that far when flying in the heights of the Gods, it is these moments that we all live for.

Back to reality

Friday jumped upon us without any warning. I was due at my parents’ home to see the two horses that are turned out there after the morning’s work. On my arrival I was accosted by the local barber, my note to self — getting my hair cut — had been forgotten. I came out looking as though I had lost a bad fight with the council lawn mower, but the parents were pleased, so some level of appeasement is good I suppose!

I went on to Castle View Stud to pick up Eastern Chariot. Saturday saw Melody Belle’s and Dear Maurice’s last strong gallop before they run. Both went strongly, Melody Belle was due to run in a hot maiden on Wednesday but in the end I decided to postpone it, and Dear Maurice will run over a rather short six furlongs on Friday.

At the end of the morning I drove north east to just the other side of Shadwell Stud in Norfolk to see a possible new owner’s foals and yearlings, all of which were extremely nice and well handled. It was a small operation, given a huge amount of time and love.

Sunday was slightly easier than we had previously known; most of the horses were just walked out and given a pick of grass. It was not the nicest of days weather-wise. I had a luncheon invitation to some friends nearby, which I gladly accepted — a good meal is quite rare due to time restraints, but Sunday’s meal was superb, fit for a king. I think it took me a good 20 minutes to get up from my seat as I had eaten so much. I now know what King John felt like just before he died of over-indulgence. Very fat!

Monday passed without any trouble, and on Tuesday Cotton King rose just three pounds in the weights for his win last Thursday night and Littlemisssunshine remained. The handicapper can be nice — it is just trying to convince him to be nice more often.

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It seems strange that my week begins on a Tuesday, but in this world there is barely any difference between the days, each and every one is packed to the brim with an organised chaos! This past Tuesday was a little different in that Cotton King got given a handicap mark, so the beginning of the week was spent trying to find races for the horses I have in at the moment. Littlemisssunshine’s nose is on the mend, so she will be back out soon. It sounds easy to find a race, but there are so many factors that need to be taken into account. All things being well, I have found some.

Wednesday saw what would be a small trial for a two-year-old I have. She galloped with two of Rae Guest’s two-year-olds, on the grass. She travelled easily and the bubble is yet to be burst! The dream still lives on.

Newmarket is a great place to train as there is always someone willing to help out. Rae is my landlord and a great one at that; he has been very good to me. We also galloped most of the rest of the yard. Cotton King wore a visor for the first time, Dear Maurice a tongue-tie and a cross noseband, while Main Beach went without a gadget. All three went very well. Main Beach was very pleasing, but his quarter crack is still an issue and we are going to have to muddle our way through.

Spa treatments and haircuts

Thursday morning was an easyish morning as all the horses that had galloped the day before were just walked out and given a pick of grass. A new owner from Norfolk visited in the late morning to see where his Royal Applause filly is going to spend some of her early days as an inmate of Coles Racing. Mind you, I think any inmate of the institution will say it is a five-star spa!

I then jumped into the car to drive to my parents’ home to see the two horses that are there on their holidays and out with my father’s hunter (see the picture of Nineteensixtysix above), and to be given a good feed. My mother’s cooking is second to none and well worth the drive and even the bollocking over the length of my hair. Note to self — must get hair cut before I go home again.

Friday was back to normal, and we were able to spend some time doing stalls work and find out that we were going to need a little more help. Cotton King’s school report would probably read rather like mine did — opinionated, obstinate and very unwilling to change despite a large amount of pressure. Some reinforcements will be needed.

A spot of exploring

Saturday was a day to remember, and will go down as one of those great days. A couple of horses were given a light piece of work before tucking them up for the day. I don’t like to do too much with them on a day when Newmarket races are on. I went for lunch with some of the Thoroughbred Breeders’ Association Next Generation Committee in the Darley box. It is nice to see that there are some people my age who are just as keen as me.

I returned back to the yard after seeing some great racing and some horses I could only wish for, and met another prospective owner at my yard to show her round and persuade her to send me her two-year-old Kyllachy filly. We shall find out if my sales pitch is any good over the next few days, as I await a reply.

I then headed into the smoke for the first time in months. I went to a Help the Heroes ball on HMS Belfast. I now know why I never used to drive to London — parking, there is none. Lambeth Palace gardens provided a great place; there are no double yellow lines on grass… HMS Belfast saw action in the last war as a cruiser. It was now the place for a ball, and what a ball it was.

Being the explorer I always thought I was, a British Navy ship makes a great place to explore. It was dark and I definitely could not see the “no entry” signs — were there even any? Well, I did not see them. While standing on its bridge just about to turn on the siren and shout down the intercom, “BATTLE STATIONS!” this very nice chap in uniform thought it better I return to the rest of the guests as I was not James Bond. Mind you, I felt fairly close to it — veni, vidi vici!

I had returned from London early on Sunday morning or late at night depending on how you see things, as I don’t drink. Horses have a funny way of knowing when you are tired, and exploit it. Instead of being just fresh, they were all like lions.

Monday was again a busy day. I went to see some horses near Bishops Stortford during lunch, and once again hope my sales pitch is up to scratch. There were a couple lovely yearlings and an athletic Singspiel colt foal. The end of the day saw a visit from my vet to see if I could declare Littlemisssunshine for Pontefract on Thursday. Her cut nose is on the mend and she will run, all things being equal.

Back up came in the form of Gary Witheford and his son Craig on Tuesday morning to put Cotton King through the stalls. He had no fear of the stalls, he just did not want to be told what to do. After some persuasion he went in, and in, and in, and in until he went in unaided. They really are very good at what they do, and shall be at his next start to persuade the obstinate King that the stalls are not very frightening. Well, while they were there they might as well put through the unraced two-year-old, so when we go to the races we won’t have any unexpected surprises.

This next week will see us visit the racecourse and hopefully return home full of the joys of spring — forever the optimist!

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Pipit Nest, somehow, managed to finish with one behind her on Tuesday at Lingfield and returned to Newmarket full of the joys of spring. Unknown to her the decision had been made to cut short her racing career and start her, now flourishing, polo career! She will forever be dodging a 4in white rocket and 13-stone men wielding mallets.

Littlemisssunshine, despite our best efforts, had no intention of running in the 5 furlong handicap at Doncaster on Wednesday. The night before she had had a little heat in her off fore hoof, by the morning the heat was gone, however, she now had decided to tear half her nose from her face so she did not have to run! Eight stitches later and a call to the British Horseracing Authority announcing her scratching, she was now a definite non-runner. All being well she will run again either on the 23 or 28 September, minus a large chunk of her left nostril!

The lorry had been hired for the day so, in order not to waste it, I took off for South Wales to collect, yet another, steed from the “wonderful” Mrs Hamilton. This time a four-year-old National Hunt horse, by Mutamarkiz. The four-year-old grey gelding and I hopped back into the, now, very well known two box and set sail for Northamptonshire. Charlie’s Boy will spend the next couple of weeks with Matthew Mackley before heading into full training here in Newmarket. While at Matthew’s I was able to get a good look at Eastern Chariot, now flourishing, due to her return to work.

New jockey and new horse

A pleasant surprise awaited me on Thursday morning in the form of a baby-faced conditional jockey cowering behind my long-suffering stable girl, Sammy. Trevor Whelan had been dragged from his pit at 5.30am to come and ride for this, unknown, flat trainer. I can only imagine the thoughts going through his head, namely, “Why do I have to ride these things? What happens if I fall off? Is my boss going to kill me? If I don’t ride these supposed lions, my girlfriend [Sammy] will think, not only am I wet but lazy as well!” It is commonly known, the wrath of a woman, is far worse than that of a boss! Fortunately, for all parties, Mr Whelan was a success, he has good hands and can ride to instructions. Thank you Mr Ian Williams!

Thursday afternoon and I was back on the road, this time to the Doncaster St Leger Festival Sales to see the 90 or so yearlings go through the ring. From what had seemed a very busy premier sale, this was decidedly quiet. Lot 59, a Royal Applause filly (pictured top right) from Dunhill Stud in Montrose, Scotland, caught my eye and after further inspection had ticked all the boxes. After a quick word with Mr McTaggart of Doncaster Bloodstock Sales to check my credit rating(!) I cautiously approached the ring, knowing that I would not get anywhere near buying her. However, the one man and his dog who were at the Sales were obviously having a cup of tea when she went through the ring. She has been bought for a new owner with every intention of running at Ascot next year! Without tongue in cheek, I am seriously happy with what we have got in her.

Yet another night where I did not see my bed until gone midnight. It is all part of the life of a fledgling trainer where every moment brings a new adventure. After riding four lots on Friday morning I tootled back to Doncaster in my now, second home, the two box I hire from Nigel Hardy, to collect next year’s Queen Mary winner and take her to Limestone Stud where she will spend the next couple of months before being broken in.

By the time I got back to Newmarket, realization had set in. I needed both fuel and sleep! The only problem was that my loyal head girl had left for Ireland for the weekend! Six lots later on Saturday morning it was time for me to have a little rest.

The Sunday visit

Sunday came and with it a visit from my parents. One knows when one has done wrong because they don’t give you a bollocking at the time, they send you a letter! The one thing about my father is that when he is angry he goes quiet. I don’t think that a word was spoken for the whole of Sunday!

In his letter, however, his concern was more advice than a bollocking. As predicted the week had taken its toll and I had pushed my body to the brink, something that my parents did not wish to see again! It’s all well and good being champion trainer in waiting but no good being a dead one!

The lesson has been well learnt: I owe a responsibility to all my owners to stay fit and healthy so that in turn I can make sure their steeds are at their pinnacle. It is an unfortunate fact but my middle name is not Superman, possibly Danger Mouse!

Sammy returned first thing on Monday morning and things are back to normal.

Cotton King was given a handicap mark of 60 — six pounds higher than I had expected. There will be other times when I clash swords with the handicapper but this will not be one of them!

Until next week, Toby

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When we look back at the time we spent at school, many of us remember how our parents told us that time passes us by at great speed. This past week has been a perfect example of that.

Pipit Nest ran last Tuesday at Folkestone, this time with a young girl (Sophie Doyle) on board. Despite the gentle handling, Pipit found her customary losing post with much vigour. She tailed the field 30 lengths behind the winner, a 14-length improvement on her previous run. If we have this much improvement every time she runs, bring on the Arc!

On a saner note, she runs today (Tuesday) at Lingfield in a Class 5 Median Auction Maiden and I’ll be extremely happy if she can somehow put her nose within a length of the next last horse…

Day of doom doing the accounts

Wednesday saw what is absolute hell for any young trainer — the day bills are paid. I think it preferable to rub salt into an open wound than take the wrath of my bank manager, who I think takes great pleasure in seeing me squirm like a worm on a hook about to be dipped into a pool of starving piranhas. The secretary is often most tiresome but very good at making cups of tea. In fact my mother is a saint who can turn her hand to most things, but a day at the books can be trying for us both!

Littlemisssunshine had a small gallop on the grass on Thursday. I am now seriously frustrated, as trying to find the right race for her is like trying to find that all-elusive needle in the haystack. She is entered in races from Wednesday through to Tuesday. The best of these will come on Saturday, but the weather forecast seems unwilling to lend me a helping hand. She has, therefore, been declared for Doncaster tomorrow in a cavalry charge. Knowing my luck, the supposed rain clouds will evaporate for Saturday’s race and the going will be firm after all. Thankfully, my co-owner, Mr Oakes, is very understanding and stands by any decision that I make.

Owners present — and hopefully future

After evening stables I jumped into the iron horse and went to visit a former master of some famous packs of foxhounds, and in turn was taken to see an array of bloodstock, which included a nice Kalanisi yearling filly out of a Selkirk mare and a striking three-year-old Royal Applause colt out of a Danehill mare. Now for mission impossible — persuade their owners to send them to me!

The amazing Mrs Hamilton arrived on Friday morning, after a three-hour drive, to watch her two-year-old filly by Verglas gallop on the Summer Gallop next to the Rowley Mile racecourse under Tom McLaughlin. Both she and Tom seemed happy with the filly and I was able to wipe the sweat from my brow as the filly went as expected.

In the afternoon I went to visit one of Mrs Hamilton’s other horses, Eastern Chariot (an anagram of her daughter’s name, Henrietta, and the filly’s sire, Oscar). Eastern Chariot is spending a couple of weeks with my version of Monty Roberts — Matthew Mackley. His baler twine belt and Wurzle Gummidge appearance belie a consummate horseman.

After viewing this Champion Hurdler in waiting, I headed to my parent’s home to see two more of the troops — Rich And Reckless and Nineteensixtysix, who look amazing. I was given a good feed and an evening’s duck flighting before returning home to pour some more oats down the untamed lions that grace Chestnut Tree Stables.

Todd still a class act

The weekend went with relative ease and I even got time to watch a little of Burghley. It was nice to see Mark Todd back on form on the cross-country course. It was an honour to meet him last year at the Karaka Yearling Sales in New Zealand. I think, from my brief attendance at university, we call the shrinking of international boundaries globalisation.

Monday and the return to reality. A 3am start followed by a 5hr drive to Newcastle, where Cotton King took his place in another mile maiden. He should now be qualified for handicap races.

The return journey saw yet another 5hr wrestling with the steering wheel in what felt like a Force 10 hurricane. When home I don’t think that my head had touched the pillow before I was chasing sheep around the land of nod. The 41/2hrs sleep I had last night may well be one of the longest for a while.

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Last Tuesday started in an unusual way — waking up late. Not by fault, it was the first morning in five months where I wasn’t riding out. I was staying with some friends in Lincolnshire for the sales at Doncaster. As they say, “a change is as good as a break”.

The sales were strong for any nice type of horse, and too strong for me to play. However, there will be at least one lot from the Doncaster select sale coming to me! It was well worth the trip. I felt like Robin Hood, having had breakfast with a past Sheriff of Nottingham and somehow acquiring a horse without a penny in my pocket.

On Tuesday night, I headed back after the last lot to get home to Newmarket at about 11.30pm so I could ride out in the morning in preparation for the runner on Friday. On Wednesday, thankfully, I managed to get a lift back to the sales after riding out four lots at home. It was a slightly less productive sale day than the first one; I was unable to prey on some unsuspecting owner who had not sold their horse. I think they had become wise to my tactics! After watching a little Oasis Dream filly go through, towards the end of the sale, I headed home, and was in bed by 9.30pm after checking the horses had not managed to kill themselves while I was away.

There was no reason why they should have killed themselves, as Sammy —the girl who works for me — had kept them wrapped in cotton wool. I suppose it is like a father tucking his young children into bed after a day at the office.

Thursday, thank goodness, was not as the man upstairs intended — for me it was a day of some rest. I was reminded that we can’t burn the candle at both ends all the time last week when out for dinner with some friends. I was awoken mid-meal while using the base of a cactus plant as a pillow by conversation about what was going to be drawn on my face!

Not such a madman on not such a no-hoper

Cotton King (pictured above) took to the racecourse for the second time on Friday. This time it was over the straight mile at Newmarket on soft ground in a Class 4 maiden. If I told you he had come tailed-off last over 1 mile 2 furlongs just over a week prior to this in a Class 5 at Folkestone, having been outpaced from the start, you would rightly call me mad, and tell me that we would be beaten by at least two furlongs.

I got some rather odd looks as we arrived at the July course, not in the back of a horsebox, nor being led, but ridden. David Simcock’s look said it all. “MAD” was the word in his head as I appeared over Devils Dyke wearing a bright orange pair of trousers riding this no-hoper for the 4.35pm.

Jockey Tom Queally gave me the saddle, and once again his looks said it all: “what is he doing with that horse here?”

Saddling was interesting, as Cotton King refused to go into the saddling boxes and started to throw a strop. Mrs Cumani came to the rescue. Having given me some well due abuse over the colour of my trousers, she helped tame the beast and put the saddle on him. Just one turn in the ring as we were somewhat late for our engagement, with only a few words to Tom: “Please don’t stop pushing him, and try not to come last by too far!”

Cotton King did himself justice, and came a very creditable seventh, not from seven, but from 13, and did my confidence a world of good, as I had thought he could run within 20 lengths of the winner and he in fact ran within 12 lengths. He was very green throughout the race and will come on for it. It was confirmed how insane people must think I am, as when asked by his owner Mrs Hamilton, how I was going to get him home, I replied “ride him”.

Her instant reply was: “Who else does that?”

To my knowledge, no one. In fact he really enjoyed his ride home and it was a good way to cool him down both physically and mentally. It is not often you can ride across the middle of the Newmarket heath, stopping to pick some grass whenever you want.

Too soggy for Littlemisssunshine

Saturday saw the beginning of the bank holiday weekend; unfortunately horses don’t know the difference between Christmas and a normal day, let alone a bank holiday. So it was business as usual and three lots before rushing home to tidy the nest as my parents were visiting having spent the last two weeks in the north of Scotland.

Sunday began with riding Littlemisssunshine. She is at her peak now after her last start at Folkestone just over 10 days ago. The rain has come at just the wrong time — she is a good to firm ground filly, and can’t go a yard in this softer ground. She has an entry at Musselburgh on Friday, but it looks unlikely she will get into the race. It is so frustrating to have a horse at its peak and not be able to run it.

We also galloped two of the yard’s horses on Sunday — a six-year-old gelding who gallops like his middle name should be Shergar, and a two-year-old filly by Verglas who has done very little. Not really a likely pair to go together. Both went well.

Today (Monday) has been as the last three — cold. I think I must have ancestors who came from warmer climates, hence my liking of cacti and hatred of the cold. There is nothing worse than being cold. It is the same for the horse, I think. I will be off to all the charity shops around, asking for them to hold any duvets that may come in. Not for a fetish for other’s bedding, just a need for my horses to be warm!

Tuesday brings the return of Pipit Nest to the races.

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Twenty-five-year-old Toby Coles is Britain’s newest — and youngest —trainer. He is writing a weekly diary for HHO about the trials and tribulations, the highs and the lows, the work and play of a young man trying to make a go out of training racehorses.

Welcome to my Horse & Hound Online diary. This week I thought I’d introduce myself to you all.

Growing up

I was lucky enough to grow up in the borders of Scotland where I did nothing but play with my pony during the school holidays, be it hunting in the winter, or riding round the farm with my terrier in tow during the summer. I was never allowed to go to Pony Club camp for some reason, which did not really bother me as plaiting and grooming my pony didn’t really interest me. Galloping flat out, chasing a covey of partridges or pretending to have Emperor Napoleon’s army on retreat did!

My school days were spent longing for the countryside and the freedom that came with it. It was at school where I decided my future lay in racing. However I did far better than was expected in my A levels, and was persuaded to go to Newcastle University.

In fact I got my results when leading up Factor Fifteen at Beverley for Ed Dunlop on 14 August 2003. I remember the day well as I put the phone down on my housemaster for thinking it amusing to give me someone else’s results, in fact he had not, it was just those who marked my exams had taken heed of the note at the top of the page: “Please give me an A”. Either that or they were has high as kites when they put pen to paper!

Working in England

After just a year my tutor thought it better I leave university! I did so, and was lucky enough to get a job with the Newmarket trainer Sir Mark Prescott. To this day I will be eternally grateful to my tutor for throwing me out.

It was at Sir Mark’s that I learnt from the bottom up. I started by mucking out and polishing taps, and the month before I left after my two-year schooling, I was sent to three Group One races in three countries. My luck started here; I looked after Sir Mark’s first Classic winner, Confidential Lady, who won the 2006 French Oaks.

I spent the following year as assistant to Ed Dunlop, also in Newmarket, where we had up to 120 horses in at any one time. It was a real baptism of fire, for with Sir Mark we had had a maximum of 60 horses. It was an experience that has given me the skills to juggle the turmoil of such a large yard.

Working abroad

I decided that before I was to settle down in this country I needed to broaden my horizons and travel the world, and the best way to do this was to do it with horses. I used my two previous jobs to get me in with Christophe Clement on the East Board of the United States as an assistant.

It was here where my luck continued. I became associated with Mauralakana, who went on to win five races that year including the Grade One Beverley D Stakes and over US$1,300,000, along with many others in the who’s who of US turf racing that year!

The next year and half I spent on the other side of the earth working for numerous trainers learning their differing techniques. However it was there where I was given the chance to train — not in my name, but still the chance! Murray and Bjorn Baker, a father-and-son team from New Zealand, asked if I would train their Australian string for them.

This was an amazing opportunity that once again had its share of luck, but this time some bad luck. Harris Tweed (NZ) won a Group Two race and came second — beaten just a head — in the AJC Derby (the Australian Derby, run at Randwick in Sydney). But the very next week Mountain Road (NZ), who was favourite for the Ipswich Cup, shattered his near fore while galloping at Randwick four days before the big day. Harris Tweed went on to be fifth in last year’s Melbourne Cup at 100/1.

It was time to come home. My foreign adventures ended back in the States when working for David Duggan for just six weeks last winter in New York. The reasoning behind this was to learn how to train in the cold, and was it cold!

Setting up

On my return to England I tried to get a job as an assistant, but no one would employ me, not even in France. It was interesting to see those who bothered to reply!

This left me with only one option, which was to have a go myself. I took all my courses that I had to take, and somehow managed to drum up the support to gather three horses to train.

I moved into a barn at Chestnut Tree Stables on 6 April 2010, and within two weeks I had had a real baptism of fire — one horse was kicked and put down, another fell down a drain and have 30-odd stitches, and lastly, I bought a horse that the owner refused to pay for. But things come in threes, and this was a bad three!

Littlemisssunshine lifted spirits to win at Brighton on 22 June. She was my second runner, and she won her third start for me. I was overjoyed, but I have to admit that it was also the biggest relief ever!

I am very lucky with the owners that I do have, they are very supportive and massively encouraging to me and my one staff member, Sammy Cobley, who is worth her weight in gold.

Stay in touch with all the news in the run-up to and throughout the major shows and events during 2026 and beyond with a Horse & Hound subscription. Subscribe today for all you need to know ahead of these major events, plus online reports on the action as it happens from our expert team of reporters and in-depth analysis in our special commemorative magazines. Have a subscription already? Set up your unlimited website access now