Up all night at the Ice Cream Bar and Shoe shop

Monday and I feel overwhelmed with stuff! The inbox is awash, probably not helped by a sturdy Saturday night, where Mea Maxima Culpa, I completely failed to read either the runes or the clock and sat drinking a formidably better variation on the Metaxa theme, until 2:30 am. It was only when I realised that the table had been cleared, the hostess was almost in her jimjams, and two guests had gone home and in the intervening years moved house, that I got the message. Chagrin don’t really cut it.

Sunday was all a bit hazy and then Monday it was a catch-up on last week.

First things first and so set to on the inbox. My chum Don Boyd had sent me a 90 minute doco he made for BBC storyville in 2015. IMDB describes it as an intimate documentary portrait of his parents through the countries that Donald his dad and Luba, his alcoholic mama, had lived out their failed marriage. Not exactly bleak, but handheld cinéma vérité, like a long and very sober night watching someone else’s summer holiday reels from the 1950s and very Don. And a book to consider, in similar vein, which I think, has other fingerprints on it. When Don filmed it, he was 66, and it might possibly be thought quite late in the day to want to be finding out about your mother — but then he’s a kinder man than me, and I’ve been an orphan for many years now. Orphan. Such a good word. So final. But the imprints of our parents, like the fingerprints left on sandwiches made with cheap bread, (and thus the only proper sandwich bread in James May’s opinion), is indelible. We bear their marks forever.

This is juxtaposed by Ottolenghi emailing me to tell me he is launching ice creams into Waitrose. I want them to be black olive with cream of Jerusalem artichoke and caramelised preserved lemons with a hint of goats rennet. They’re not. They’re Vanilla and salted caramel, Pistachio & Cherry, and Coffee & Cardamom. If you’ve ever drunk coffee in the desert, you will know the unexpected retch the latter will provide the unwary. The pictures I saw were captioned to KP foods, so I’m guessing this is the people who make the nuts, behind the concept and money.

Talking of KP, I once leased a horse from Marita, William Fox-Pitt’s mama, to KP for a “Win a Racehorse” ownership promotion. It was called Skip to Somerfield (being the name of the Supermarket group that had got him for a year) and he won first time out at 50/1 beating Eric Penser’s Beauchamp Jazz, trained by John Dunlop. The staff of this store, had, in the main, not a clue where or what the countryside was or what a horse did, or how it was trained. However, despite their lack of knowledge, there were very few of them who hadn’t backed it for a fiver each way. The ones who came racing to Kempton for that debut win, had also listened to me and done the forecast for a bit of fun. Skippy was trained in Lambourn by that least genteel and dangerous of former Irish trainers, Kevin McAuliffe, and I still see yer man occasionally and remain I hope friends. At an Ascot lunch last year, he hit the same car four times trying to leave a large and almost empty car park, but then that’s why I don’t drive.

Another email, takes hours away. I have to open it only because it says:

New Udog shoes with dials and a decent price point, £115 foldable bikepacking shoes, 3D printing stuff from Fizik + tech from Madison, Standert & more...

What I stupidly did, was to speed-read the headline. I got the word shoes, which I love, and the word Dials. But then I was lost and also, slightly nauseous. These were shoes for cyclists. These had “…. two Micro Twist dials offer a high level of fine adjustability, allowing you to achieve a snug fit tailored to your preferences.” Then I was trapped - again. How does a pair of shoes need bikepacking foldability? What is that? Does Ottolenghi know? Would McAulliffe understand? Would Skippy have worn them?

It transpires that for £115 you get a shoe so light and thin that you can bend it in half and tie it to itself with its own drawcord - or what used to be called a lace. All this to save weight! Jesus Mary and Joseph, these people are out and about and on the road! And in my inbox. I have sent the concept however over to the PJA for comment. Jockeys tied up in their own drawcord to save weight…

I don’t think any amount of folding shoes would have done us much good on Saturday in the Stewards Cup. There was pace on both sides of the track, and the field split into two pretty even groups. Stalls 1-14 went far side and the rest came up the near rail; but it became clear that the still sticky ground was giving the high draws a small, but clear advantage, and so it proved with the first four home all high. Two Tribes put in an authoritative performance and deserved his victory, but the over-round on the market was a disgrace. Three of the first four shortened just before the off, and 152% is far higher than normal. I’m as bad as the rest when it comes to getting snarky about the Tote seeding Pools; but then I’m happy to advise taking eight places, which are simply being subsidised by a huge over-round on the win market. As Fagin said; I think we’d better think it out again!

I ran my eye over the Boyd’s Own P&L for July, and it showed a 114+ point profit from 11 posts or articles or advisories, or whatever you call these shenanigans. For August so far, from four notes, we are 168+ points up.

I’m away to Newbury this afternoon, to watch Madame’s leased hoof run. Usual form… bags of hope, management of expectations by all parties… For what it’s worth, I shall back these: