Thursday, April 13, 2017

From Florence to Delatite

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Florence Annie and Billy Barnes in their 1942 engagement photo
Ten years ago, the Easter weekend was spent in and out of hospital visiting my grandmother Florence Annie Barnes after she’d had a stroke.

She was in and out of consciousness for the last few days of her life so I’m not sure really how aware she was that her son, daughter and eight grandchildren were there at different times over that weekend but I’ve always just hoped that she somehow knew.

She was a very small person who had a very big influence on my life ­– one that continues in everything that I hold dear as we approach the tenth anniversary of her death. I used her full name above because when she was alive I was the only person who could get away with calling her Florence Annie. She hated her real name and all her friends knew her as Nan or Nancy. I like to think that as her eldest grandchild I had special privileges but, in truth, she loved us all the same and, in my biased eyes that still cloud with tears when I think about her, she was the perfect loving and indulgent grandparent, with an amusingly feisty edge at times.

I’ve been thinking of her quite a bit this week, not just because Easter is approaching, but because today at Towcester we run Delatite, a living, breathing, furry, 16-hand reminder of her legacy.

When Florence died she left some money to each of her grandchildren. I’m sure that my three sisters spent theirs more wisely but mine was foolishly frittered away on the decision to send Desiree to stud. I started riding Desiree when I first met John and became so attached to her that when she retired from racing I couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving us for good.

In truth she wasn’t really good enough to be a broodmare, though I live in hope that Delatite, her third foal, may prove me wrong. It almost certainly won't be today. It’s his second run in a bumper and even though it’s a small field, almost all of our opponents boast quite good recent form. He wasn’t disgraced on his debut on Boxing Day, however, and he appears to have come on a bit since then so we’ll see. But we travel very much in hope rather than expectation.

The real Delatite
Incidentally, the photograph to the left is the view looking across to Mount Buller from Bob's Cottage at the Ritchie family's lovely farm Delatite in Victoria, Australia. It's one of my favourite places in the world and was the inspiration for this horse's name.

Whatever happens today or in the future for Delatite, his full-brother Dear Alix and half-brother Dereham, they and their mother have already given me more fun and pleasure than any other hobby I could imagine. I say hobby because even though I take the business of breeding very seriously when I am writing about it for work, my personal involvement is a mere toe in the water compared to the major breeders around the world.

It’s taught me plenty, however, not least the art of patience. Any morning I’ve managed to sneak away from my desk to see Desiree and her various youngsters over the years in Norfolk have been hours that I’ve cherished.

Desiree’s breeding record is not good, though she still has some chances to come and I remain convinced that Delatite will be her first winner, even if it’s not today. She’s still very much a part of the family and is living in retirement as a companion at Hilborough Stud with Chris and Nicky Murray who have looked after her so well throughout her career as a broodmare.

She’s still young enough to be brought out of retirement should any of her offspring suddenly do something extraordinary, a scenario that wafts across my mind every now and then.  And that’s the other great thing about breeding horses – the chance to dream. Of course reality is likely to come crashing down around our ears eventually but no-one can take away those quiet moments of joy as you watch a young foal gambol across a field and wonder to yourself if he might just be the one.

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