Frankel

Today I saw this. I'm not sure I have ever seen York Racecourse so crowded, and I have certainly never seen so many people lay claim to their places by the parade ring a good hour before one horse was to appear. Nor have I ever felt so much palpable anticipation as we craned our necks to try to catch a glimpse of him.
I've rarely been so nervous for a race which, in retrospect, was absurd, as I have rarely seen a horse destroy a field (including five Group winners) so calmly.
He has a police escort, and, just as one suspects the Queen thinks everywhere smells of fresh paint, Frankel must believe that everywhere outside his stable is full of people clapping, cheering and pointing cameras.
This explains why, despite having taken numerous pictures of different bits of him, I don't really have a decent stand out photo to blip. Instead I have this - the trainer, Henry Cecil, giving the jockey, Tom Queally, last minute instructions (he was quite firm. Fingers were wagged.). No-one was sure that Henry Cecil would be able to attend the meeting, as he is currently undergoing chemotherapy, but not only did he make it, but he made it wearing a fabulous hat.

Anyway, it was good, and I Was There.