It's only a month till Cheltenham.

That phrase will either pass you by totally, or will disturb the hairs on the back of your neck.

The Cheltenham Festival is four days of horse-racing unlike any other. It is the World Series of equestrian endeavour (more Group One races than any other meeting), and the fact that it happens to be combined with a rather large party just adds to the anticipation.

It doesn't even happen over a weekend. Like the old Derby, it happens in the middle of the week when most of us - who don't farm 50,000 acres of rural somewhere or are the paid-off directors of leading banks - are suffering in the office. But like all horse-racing events, it attracts the great and the good, and a lot of the rest of us too.

Goodness knows how much Guinness is consumed. The Irish contingent – a resilient bunch in the face of the rather consistent success of the bookies – add so many dimensions in terms of excitement and good humour that you might think you'd arrived in another, sunnier, place, even though the rain is probably belting down around you.

I know of no other audience so appreciative of skill and endeavour on the part of horse and rider anywhere in the world. When the horses are steaming up that final hill in advance of the home turn and the straight, most of the crowd are red-faced with shouting. And whether their horse wins or not, they cheer and applaud. Any jockey or horse with an Irish connection is of course favoured, but any horse or rider who has turned in a gritty performance can be instantly selected as worthy of a hero’s welcome.

In the old days of course, they ran special trains all morning from Paddington, where racing aficionados like Jeffrey Bernard would board for breakfast and Bollinger. Now, more people go by bus and coach, the rich by helicopter and the corporate guests who might arrive in the carriages of the Orient Express. I feel sorry for them. They'll spend their day behind glass in the grandstand and go home with no more idea that they have been somewhere special than if they had watched on TV, which, given the weather, is what a lot of them do. What a waste.

The highlight of the four days is the Gold Cup, the ultimate test for jumping horses.

This is the race in which Denman deposed his old rival and stable companion Kauto Star in 2008. Since then, of course, Denman has had a heart issue and has run only once, beaten 23 lengths at Kempton by Madison du Berlais. So, will the real Denman appear at Cheltenham? Will his old rival Kauto sweep all before him once more? Or will it be one of the newer names, Madison du Berlais or Air Force One perhaps who will seize the glory?

These are the talking points at race-tracks up and down the country in the week that AP McCoy has smashed every record for jockeyship by taking the number of his career winners to over 3000.

Betting, you ask? What's going to win? I have to say that your guess is as good as mine. But if I'm pushed, look out for Jayo, Kornaki Kid and Forpaddydeplasterer (the last only if it doesn't rain too much). And don't bet more than you can afford to lose, because the chances are that you and I will do just that.

But Cheltenham isn't about betting; it's about endeavour and skill and, above all, having a good time. I'll be hoping to see you there.

END

(c) Blakeney 20 February 2009

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