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COPYRIGHT 2004 The Spectator Ltd. (UK)
The supermarket availability of asparagus at Christmas and raspberries in February may have ruined the modern generation's sense of the seasons. But for racing folk it still exists: the autumn arrival in the yard of skinny little youngsters, the anxious winter wait to see if last year's two-year-olds have trained on, the first serious spring trials on the gallops, and then the moment of nemesis on the racecourse itself. The only pity is that the Flat season tries to start itself with a hesitant clearing of breath before the Grand National, when punters are still more interested in the jumpers than in the sleeker, leaner beasts which preoccupy us from now on.
At sunny Newbury on Saturday, the Cheltenham roar for Best Mate was starting to fade into a comfortable memory and many, like me, were finally ready to switch our attention. I had not intended...
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