A FEW people have commented that my decision to stop training last year was well-timed. Well, sort of. If only I’d known, I would have also baled out of certain equine ‘investments’ too, as now I am a training fee payer!

Who ever thought we would see this? The world brought to its knees with everyone in the private sector, bar Jeff Bezos and Amazon shareholders, taking a massive financial hit.

I am sure it hasn’t been easy for my ex-fellow trainers but at least their businesses have carried on, even with no racing, assuming that owners have continued paying training fees. It’s the traders, commercial breeders, and not least the breeze-up boys, who will take the biggest smack with the effects of the economic tsunami yet to be fully felt.

I have rented part of my yard to Hiroo Shimizu, a young Japanese trainer who is in his third year and doing well. I am involved in several horses in training with him, as are a few of my old owners.

Still living next to the yard gives me regular contact with the horses even if I have to resist the temptation to indulge in some back-seat driving. Fortunately, Hiroo is very much his own man so any untoward interference is wisely ignored.

It’s an interesting experience being on the other side of the fence. Obviously, I am aware of all the behind-the-scenes frustrations involved in being a trainer but, as a mate said recently, “do you think you are a bigger pain as an owner than you were as a trainer?” Fair cop, on which I will reflect at moments when I might do better to hold my tongue. No point in getting older if you don’t get any wiser, as the old saying goes.

Phoenix Park

I spent much of my adolescence in Ireland and retain such happy memories of that time. I still remember well crouching down by the winning post at Phoenix Park to be able to take a shot at betting on the photo finishes.

Due to the angle being fiendish when viewed from the stands and, indeed, changing depending on which track they used, there was value to be had!

Riding out at Dreaper’s in my school holidays for a number of years, and often getting carted on those big, raw-boned, magnificent, long-striding chasers is not easily forgotten either. Good times.

I go back to Ireland regularly for the sales but, for the moment, my post-training life is good here in France. Chantilly is not the worst place in the world to hang out. I am often asked if I will stay here forever; who knows? Life rushes by us all and change is good. As a wise man once said, “better to regret the things you did but shouldn’t have done, than those you never did but should have tried.”