Over the stable door: The day everyone felt like a winner

I have met so many great people and, although my costs are barely covered, the fun and excitement it gives to others makes it worthwhile.

Some years ago I introduced some new members to the rest by leasing a flat horse to run at Beverley. I was to ride Aqribaa in the amateur race, leasing him off a true Yorkshire gentleman farmer, Alan Lockwood, who trains near Helmsley.

All the members and their families were out in force. Aqribaa was the outsider at 40-1 having never won a race, but Alan is a shrewd man. In the paddock he winked at me, whispering, "he'll have 'alf a chance today lass, leave it as long as you can, e's a bit idle in front."

The members leaned in, straining to hear and the whisper went round. I climbed aboard, praying they didn't get carried away at the bookies but before I left the paddock they had all dashed off to place their

bets (I hate being responsible for people losing money so I am probably in the wrong job).

We didn't have a great draw – wide – which meant getting to the rail, a crucial position, would be the first problem. Beverley has a tight bend at the bottom of a hill and needs to be negotiated properly to be in with a shout. It is followed by a five- furlong pull uphill to the post.

My horse got away well and we managed to make our way to the rail by the time we hit the bend.

I stuck to it like glue, knowing my horse was agile but lazy enough to keep himself upright. The plan was to nick a few lengths up the inner.

Most swing wide into the straight in amateur races so this would put us in with a decent chance. The tactic worked. We swiftly moved up to seventh place joining the straight.

Certain lady jockeys love making a lot of noise during a race, either to wind themselves up, or their horses, or to intimidate the other jockeys. I could hear one girl roaring at her horse alongside me (a trait she is known for) while a girl behind me, already hitting and pushing her mount, crudely shouted "let me through ya b****,

let me through". I was so taken aback I replied angrily "If you can't ask nicely…" as I kicked Aqribaa on and stuck to the rail so she couldn't sneak up my inside.

We were travelling well. I got my stick out and he responded by passing a few more. Suddenly a wall of front runners blocked our path. I attempted to squeeze between two persistent lads hammering away with a will. I managed to forge through before they'd realised and stole the race on the line.

I couldn't believe it. The club members were all jumping around in the paddock hugging each other. It was one way to break the ice at least.

They had all won plenty and stood proudly on

the podium to collect the trophy, some with tears in their eyes.

It was the only race Aqribaa ever won but neither of us will forget that day for a long time.

Jo Foster trains horses at Brookleigh Farm, Menston.

CW 16/10/10