The pundits are shouting it from the rooftops. Lys Gracieux. The highest rating horse ever to come here from Japan. It must be pretty good then. My first look at Werribee. Head down, relaxed, fabulous. My second look in the stalls. Relaxed, hind toe up. What’s the word? Imperious. My third look, in the yard. A standout. This looks like the best horse ever to come out of Japan!

A bet then. It’s showing $1.50 fixed and $1.90 tote for the place with a few minutes to go. I decide to risk the tote although I know it will be crunched. What a win! The pundits were right! That’s a pretty good horse! And I was quite happy to be crunched to $1.60.

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These big race days make it hard to get to the mounting yard so I spend most of my time out the back around the stalls and parade ring. Even so they still rush them through the parade ring. The first cup horse to arrive was the winner Mer De Glace. I’m always suspicious of the Japanese horses. They are usually highly strung, flighty, with a team of attendants, and bandaged on all four. Mer De Glace was no different. Hand held in the stall, restless, is that two or three fussing strappers, and pacifiers. But fleecy travel boots. I like them – they are rather like my Ug boots!

The horse doesn’t last long and is whipped out to the pre-parade ring. That’s what I would do. Settle it! Walk it! Two hours later it is still walking! And wow. Look at those ribs! Fit enough. I change my mind about Japanese horses. It is ready.

My final six for the trifecta in no particular order was 3, 6, 10, 14, 16, 18. I missed the third horse Mirage Dancer, probably because of the cross-over noseband. My only other bet was on Humma Humma in the mares race. The horse streeted them!

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Four months in hibernation, so I’m a bit rusty. But I did see some horses at the Terracotta Warriors exhibition. You would probably say they were in need of a run and the wind might whistle through their bowels a bit! And at the track there was a new sculpture of Black Caviar. I did not recognise the horse, but I worked out the jockey Luke Nolan from the name on his pants and I struggled with the trainer Peter Moody. I can’t remember Pete ever being that demonstrative! And Black Caviar’s backside seemed a lot slimmer than the one that is imprinted on my brain. Artistic licence I suppose.

I didn’t get a decent photo of the Guineas winner, Super Seth, mainly because I had ruled it out of contention with the winkers/cross-over noseband combination. But the red muffs and salivation were positives. I’ll need a bit more practice before I blow the cobwebs out of my wallet.

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