The Cheltenham Festival

 The Cheltenham Festival

You can tell it's almost spring. The days are getting ever so slightly lighter for longer, the wintry sun seems to be out until late afternoon, the burning embers of log fires in country pubs are beginning to fizzle out and there is a different kind of symphony orchestra out there in the atmosphere. The rumbling of vans and lorries seem to be more pleasing to the ear, while the fragrant smells of tulips, daffodils and daisies are altogether more stunning than the gaunt-looking tree branches without any foliage at all.

In a fortnight the clocks go forward as they always will and always have done and Rishi Sunak, the Prime Minister might decide to have a lie in on that Sunday morning while the rest of Britain will be grateful for mercies as well it should be. All over the country there is a sense of liberation from those dark early evenings of December, January and February which have now left us. Spring, with all of its encouraging omens and promising hints of colour and vitality, is about to arrive on our doorstep with a friendly wave and comforting breeze.

This week springtime wouldn't be springtime without one of horse racing's annual jamborees. The Cheltenham Festival is now a firmly established tradition, a bookie's favourite and one of those sporting spectacles synonymous with our Irish friends. Essentially the Cheltenham Festival is all about those who groom and race their horses on the Emerald Isle. You'll see them all over this idyllic corner of Gloucestershire, the jockeys, the trainers, the immaculately turned out horses, the voices, the foaming glasses of Guinness beer, the flag itself and all of the Festival's social niceties.

Today almost the entire community of Northern and Southern Ireland will be gathering en masse in all of the local bookmakers, busily putting their last- minute bets on the overwhelming favourites, the odds on favourites and those beautiful thoroughbreds who have quite definitely got form and must be fancied to win their respective races. Money will change hands at a quite bewildering speed and some of us will look on with mild astonishment. But then you look at our equine's breeding and stock and begin to see the reason why the Cheltenham Festival retains its enduring affection on those who just love it.

For those of us whose sole venture into a local William Hill or Paddy Power is confined to the Grand National and the Epsom Derby, this is just another day on the sporting calendar. But none should ever underestimate its significance on horse racing's biggest stage. The Cheltenham Festival is normally the dress rehearsal for the Grand National in as much that it gives us a strong indication of which horse has got what it takes to win the Aintree spectacular.

Wednesdays are normally reserved for the Ladies and of course it's Ladies Day. Now this is the day when all of those macho and machismo men step aside decorously for the ladies who will happily treat the day as one big, great celebration of horse racing. They will wear those magnificently striking hats, discreet feathers, fabulously fashionable dresses, the very latest in designer clothes and then stroll around the course proudly and nonchalantly. The uber- wealthy among them probably think they deserve to be there, to be seen and noticed. It is a day for statements and vivid personalities.

In no particular order there's the Ballymore Novices Hurdle, the Brown Advisory, Novices Steeple Chase, the Coral Cup Hurdle and, perhaps quite notably, the Queen Mother Champion Chase, We will also be witnessing the Grand Annual Handicap Chase and the Champions Bumper. Now, to all intents and purposes, this sounds like a pretty full day for experienced punters. So they'll park their Land Rovers quite possibly in just the right spot, take a bracing walk across the rural pathways and meandering country lanes of Cheltenham and then dig into their Ploughman's lunch. This could only be England at her stateliest, loveliest and prettiest. Don't forget to take as many photos as you can.

Horse racing of course was her late Majesty the Queen's favourite sport. How Her Majesty adored her horses, riding them across desolate moors, galloping freely across her favourite geographical locations without a care in the world and just enjoying their company. This afternoon, you suspect, Her Majesty would undoubtedly have been at Cheltenham, binoculars in her hand, scarf around her neck, sun- glasses perched neatly on the bridge of her nose and a copy of the Racing Post tucked away in her pocket.

Sadly Her Majesty is no longer with us anymore so we'll miss her terribly and always think of her as somehow an integral part of  Cheltenham. But today for those who can't get to the Festival, all of the usual social media platforms will be available for a punt or two, TV will bring everything to life, into our lives and living rooms and betting slips will be rapidly torn up in disgust or simply thrown up into the air with delight.

And now we find ourselves in March, the Ides of March, a month of emerging from our winter hibernation. It's the Cheltenham Festival followed by the Grand National before really getting down to the nitty gritty of the Boat Race, before the football season gradually reaches its thrilling conclusion. The seasons may come and go with a heartwarming familiarity but the sounds and sights never change. Let the cavalry charge begin and the thunderous hooves pound the ground with startling conviction. The Cheltenham Festival is well and truly underway. You can almost hear the Irish craic. It's everywhere.