It was a beautiful sunny morning at the end of July 1957 when Peter called in at the Farm to tell me of a three-year-old of his that was down to run at Redcar that afternoon.
“Oss called Skirlaugh, he’s a certainty”, promised our Peter. “You’ll get a good price an' all ‘cos George Boyd’s ‘oss in the same race has won it’s last two. Seven furlong handicap, ‘oss has been trained for it.”
I had to be on this one. I was more or less living on fresh air and I needed the money badly.
That afternoon I had to make a trip to a farm near Hexham with my pal Bill Jackson and his friend Tom to sell some machinery and around half past seven they arrived at New House Farm.
I told them about Skirlaugh and what my brother Peter had said and explained how we could make a little detour to Redcar races on the way home to collect some easy money. The diversion wasn't difficult to sell as Bill loved his racing. In the 1970s and 80s I would go on to train many winners in Bill's yellow and blue halved colours including the memorable steeplechaser Royal Roseberry, but that's a story for later on in the book.
Around eight o'clock we left the Farm and headed for Hexham. Bill and Tom had already made the decision to put every single penny they had with them on the horse, together with the proceeds from the sale. Skirlaugh was considered a cert and from that point on the only discussion centred around what they would do with their winnings.
“I’m going to go to Australia with my winnings”, said Bill.
“I want enough back to buy a rotavator”, said his pal Tom.
I didn’t say anything. I was going to wait and see how events would unfold before having a bet.
We arrived at Redcar late in the afternoon. It was the start of the summer holidays and everyone seemed to have had the same idea and headed for Redcar races on such a beautiful day. Seeing the big queues of traffic around the town we knew we had no chance of getting to the track in time for the race if we waited so we left the vehicle about half a mile from the racecourse and we ran to the racecourse to place our bets.
There were so many people at Redcar that day and we had no hope of seeing the race, but Bill and Tom got their bets on and we listened to the commentary over the loudspeaker.
Skirlaugh, ridden by Jimmy Etherington, got off to a good start but faded tamely and the favourite, George Boyd’s horse Brief Sparkle, won the race and completed an easy hat-trick. Skirlaugh was nowhere.
After the race Bill turned to me.
“I don’t think you want me to go to Australia do you Michael?” he said in a downbeat tone.
“And that’s the end of my rotavator”, said a disappointed Tom.
All of the money they’d collected from their earlier sale in Hexham had gone and they had nothing.
How much did I lose that afternoon you may wonder?
I lost nothing.
I didn’t back Skirlaugh.
I knew the favourite was a good horse and the form was solid and I'd no idea as to why Peter ever thought that Skirlaugh could beat him. I didn’t dare tell Bill and Tom who’d put their cash down and were heading home with empty pockets. They assumed I’d lost my money too and there was no reason for them to think otherwise.
