The Grand National

Two years ago yesterday, I was sitting with my mother and younger in the playroom at home, watching the grand national runners trot around the collecting ring.

“That one,” I pointed to a huge bright bay, “that one is going to win.” It circled round again, “Yes, definitely that’s the one.” The horse which I was so adamant about was called Ballabriggs. And sure enough, as beginners luck would have it, Ballabriggs won.

How much did I win? Well therein lies the problem, I hadn’t bet. I hadn’t backed the equine beauty, or any other runner.  You can imagine my self-loathing for not doing so – Ballabriggs led the race for almost its entirety.

So from that point forward, I decided to try to make gambling amends and put my money where my mouth was – to bet on Ballabriggs. And it has not gone well. Last year I bet on him to win outright, and he came 6th. This year £10 each way and he pulled up. I don’t like losing and, if it weren’t for the company I had yesterday, then I probably would have been in a rather bad mood. As it was, watching the race on a big screen while tucking in to chocolate coated strawberries and prosecco with friends, put things in perspective – you couldn’t lose in a better setting.

Next year, however, I think I’ll stick to the office sweepstakes.


Lindt chocolate coated strawberries

IMG_2120The losing ticket

IMG_2121The big screen


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