Good morning all,

The latest instalment of my life to date, this time covering the mid-to-late 90s, and into the 2000's. Those of you expecting a lot of racing coverage at this point will be disappointed, but a lot of other, far more important things were happening….

In early 1995 Our Price offered me a full-time promotion to their branch at Lincoln (having done the odd day there to help out) and I duly decided that, having shinned up and down drainpipes in the early hours in Skegness bed-and-breakfasts for three seasons, it might be time to actually grow up and do a proper job. With some of the best memories I’ll ever have I reluctantly said goodbye to Skegvegas, and bought a little house in a village between Newark and Lincoln.

I thoroughly enjoyed my time at Lincoln, a lovely place to work in, but the hours were long and it left little time for much else. As such, the horses very much took a back seat at this point, with Saturdays basically the focus of my attention.

I don’t remember many good wins from this time but Senor El Betrutti winning the 1997 Murphy’s Gold Cup (now the Bet Victor) at 33s brought some shouts from the staff room that day, as one or two of my work colleagues had a few quid on on my say so. I remember being very, very p*ssed that night and not getting home until well into the early hours.

We had the odd night at the local(ish) Peterborough dogs but I didn’t like the tight track and I don’t think I ever won when we went. I missed Derby, which was long closed by now, the owners having sold up and moved on to Nottingham’s track, and in truth there were few opportunities for me to get out and about to have a bet.

The death of my Nan and Grandad within a week of one another had hit me hard as well, sadly both had caught pneumonia after moving into a new flat, with my Nan going first and then my Grandad not long after. I remember seeing Nan in the Chapel Of Rest, one of those memories that stays with you all your life, and thinking I wanted to be back home now, nearer to people I loved.

So, in 97 I moved back to Derbyshire, to live in Long Eaton with my good friend Clare. I had worked with Clare at Our Price, she had recently moved area and bought a house, and was looking for a lodger. An ideal situation, as we got on well and she knew I wasn’t going to trash the house.

I was unemployed for a while but a local bookmaker soon gave me some weekend work, and on top of that I took a paper round. Yes, a paper round. It got me out of bed, kept me fit, and paid a few quid each week. It wasn’t long before the guy that ran the newsagents was leaving me in charge of the shop for the odd afternoon, as his worker was a bit unreliable, so there was more work for me there. Whatever job I have done, I have always been very self-motivated and have done well at. My mum always said “you’re like a cat you, you always fall on your feet” and I think she was probably right. Although I do believe you make your own luck in this world.

Working at the bookmakers was great, as it basically meant loads of time to read the Post and chat to locals. The bookmakers was very busy, being situated smack in the middle of town, and the number of Irish Lottery bets we took on a Saturday was phenomenal. I reckon we took more lottery and football bets than we did horses.
Being back in the Midlands, with a few tracks in easy reach, I started going back racing and seeing old friends, which I missed a lot. Again, I wasn’t hammering the horses at this point but I do remember having a good few quid on Miss Orchestra to win the 98 Midlands National, and giving her a roar as she went past the post in front.

In 1999 I went back to college to try and gain an Access Course pass, as I’d decided life wasn’t really going anywhere quickly and I’d like to try my hand at teaching. I was doing well and on course to pass but a life-changing event was about to happen.

In the April of 2000 Mum had a couple of falls. She, of course, tried to brush them off but another week later and Ian, her husband, sent her off to the doctors. Within a day she was at the hospital, having a scan on her brain, and the news we feared came through. Mum had a brain tumour.

The options were discussed very quickly, as it was clear Mum was going downhill quite rapidly. In the August she had an operation to have it removed and for two wonderful weeks it was like having the old Mum back, she was on great form, back to her optimistic self.

It didn’t last. Within three weeks it started to grow back and she was taken into the Nightingale Hospice in Derby. Another operation wasn’t really a possibility, given how quickly it grew back, and attentions were turned to palliative care. She had chemo but hated it, hated the mask more than anything, and that was stopped. This was now all about giving Mum the best end-of-life care we could.

In the October we took her home and Ian, myself, my sister Susan and her husband Rob looked after her. What was most upsetting was Mum had two more children with Ian at quite a late stage in her life, and both Claire and Andrew, both so young, were about to be left without their Mum too.

Her speech was all but gone by late November and she was communicating with her eyes, although every now and then she would say the odd word. I was sat by her bed reading to her one night, although I had a bit of a cold and kept sniffing. As I read and stopped for a drink, I sniffed again and I heard was Mum utter the words “blow it.” Even now she was telling me off!

We lost her days before her 52nd birthday in December. The thing I remember most about the aftermath was how quiet it all was. From having doctors, nurses, carers, friends, Marie Curie nurses at night, to nothing. Suddenly nobody comes round. It’s like having the rug pulled from under your feet, and quickly.

I went back to Long Eaton and Clare was wonderful. I knew her parents a little and they kindly invited me over for Christmas, a very generous gesture. But with Mum, Nan and Grandad, the three people that effectively brought me up in this world all gone now, I felt very alone, and more than a little apprehensive for the future.

Stay safe,

David.