It Aintree-ally all it's cracked up to be

As a general rule, there can be few spectacles greater than that of horses running for the pleasure of humans. A day at the races frittering away petty amounts of cash is a long-standing source of pleasure for me, and can rarely be matched in terms of a great day out. But when I went to Aintree on Friday, the day before it hosted the Grand National, it sadly failed to meet my high expectations.



With over 50,000 visitors there that day it was by far the biggest racemeeting I've ever been to. It was awful though. It seemed that 95% of the crowd had never been to a racecourse before, let alone studied a form guide, and were so detached from the real event that the whole thing passed them by. Instead they were too obsessed with sporting what can only be described as a hideous dress sense and a total disregard for humanity. It was also 'Ladies Day' and there were some real sights on show - the amount of fake tan smattered about the place made me feel something of an albino. I've decided I'm not cut out for major sporting events and in future would rather do the low-key circuit, like Saturday afternoons at Uttoxeter. Which is exactly what I'll be doing this weekend. Kiss my face.