Early one Saturday morning I found a programme about horse racing. I found myself cheering on the horses I had chosen to win and more often than not my choice won. "cor wish I'd had some money on that", I thought.
But where to place a bet? I found out the next week, when on a shopping trip with my daughter, I spied a betting shop. Should I, could I, put on a bet? But my daughter would not stop outside a betting shop. On the following Saturday I went and bravely went into the betting shop. It seemed quite a friendly place. I decided to do 50p each way. The last of the big spenders.
That afternoon I watched the races with apprehension, but then to my delight my horse came in first. Beginner's luck, I told myself.
Then alas the day came when I lost. Saturdays were not the same again. I missed the buzz you get when your horse wins. My daughter remarked that I looked fed up lately, so I told her about my exploits. To my surprise she didn't react unfavourably, except to say "Fancy you having the nerve to go in in the first place!"
The whole family knows that I bet now, my grandsons say "How did you do Grandma?" instead of "How are you?" Am I setting a bad example I ask myself? I get the impression that some people think its really shock to have a bet. So why is racing called the Sport of Kings?
