Over the stable door: A less than royal ride for my amateur friend on Kings Troop

We had a long canter round the edge of a flat pasture before relaxing to cool off. An earthy smell lingered in the air - fox.

Sure enough it wasn’t long before I spotted a young Charlie trotting along the far hedge line, heading home after a long night out.

I walked along the old railway line which divides the land whilst Pingu, my enthusiastic Jack Russell, skipped along in front of us. The line had once been part of the Menston-Otley route, closed down in 1965 after succumbing to Dr Beeching.

It had run straight past my grandparents’ house and in the 1950s, during rationing, the local goods train would regularly pull to a halt, allowing the driver to jump off and run across the field to purchase eggs off my grandfather, Tom. In appreciation, the fireman would throw a lump of coal from the tender into the field for him.

My father’s passion for steam trains stemmed from childhood. How many boys would dream of watching steam trains out of their bedroom window now?

I had to pity my friend Jacqueline Coward last week. She had been asked to ride Kings Troop, a flat horse trained by Alan King, in a ladies’ race at Epsom.

Amateur jockeys will do anything for a ride, payment is not allowed although occasionally kind owners offer something towards expenses. After fuel, valet fees and time off work are taken in to consideration, a ride at some isolated track at the opposite end of the country can cost a week’s wages. All for a chance of a winner.

Jac drove the 250 miles to King’s Marlboro yard to ride Kings Troop out, as is the norm for jockeys before they ride the animal in a race.

She was confident of her chances after working him, opportunities like that do not come up every day.

Two days later our budding amateur headed to Epsom, another 500 mile round trip, this time aided by another jockey to map read. Jac is maybe one of the best lady jockeys in the country but when it comes to directions she is nearer the opposite end of the scale. The usual four hour journey took our jockeys over six. Flash flooding caused diversions and tested their navigating skills to the limit. ‘The M1 was closed due to flooding, we didn’t think it could get any worse but then we hit the M25 and didn’t move!’ explained Jac. Eventually they arrived. Tired, stressed but in time to run round the course before changing.

The trainer was confident and Kings Troop started out second favourite. Having misbehaved in the stalls last time out, Jac expected the handlers to put her in late and was surprised when she was loaded third of eleven runners.

She mentioned it to the loaders, but no special requests had been made by the trainer, so in she went.

As the other runners were loaded Trooper became more fractious. Her efforts to calm him failed and two seconds later he reared straight up. “I half expected him to go right over,” Jac explained.

The pair would have survived the incident but when the horse came down his front leg was over the gate, an instant withdrawl under racing regulations.

The runners leapt out of the stalls and were off without the second favourite. A disappointed jockey slowly made her way back to the unsaddling quarters. “Cantering down the Derby course wasn’t quite as anticipated”, she reflected “and the drive home was the longest ever.”

So there you are: 1,282 miles covered in three days (130 of them possibly down to the map being the wrong way round). Just another week in the life of a keen amateur desperate for winners.