I've Gotta Horse!

I was transfixed by the sight of Prince Monolulu, the most famous racing tipster of his day, sporting his ostrich-feather headdress and with a series of envelopes containing tips spread out before him on a blanket on the ground.

Wearing brightly coloured clothing he was shouting 'I've gotta horse' to the surrounding crowd. Although I didn't know it at the time, he was something of an institution on the British horse-racing scene from the 1920s until the time of his death in 1965.

Wild horses were not going to drag me away and I was totally absorbed in proceedings, to the point that he pressed half-a-crown in my sticky palm and patted me on the head- a gesture which had the growing crowd clapping and cheering.

My father patiently explained to me that Prince Monolulu came to prominence because of an extraordinary coup in the 1920 Derby. Virtually alone among tipsters he had plumped for Spion Kop, the 100-6 outsider which romped home in record time to win the Prince 8,000 - a fortune in those days. Those following his tips also benefited and his career was made.

Soon no major race meeting was complete without a visit from the Prince and his envelopes of tips.

Every year my father would attempt the autumn double- one way of winning significant amounts from relatively small outlays. He was a cautious better, unlike my maternal grandfather, who had in typical Irish fashion put all his wages on a horse one day, to be ostracised by the rest of the family even though it won at long odds. 'What if it had lost?' my grandmother cried.

There was always the promise of a bicycle at the end of an autumn double, when the first leg of the Cambridgeshire/Cesarewitch had come up at long odds. So I always took a keen interest in proceedings.

I never quite got the bicycle but there were plenty of treats along the way from shrewd little investments at long odds.

My own experience of an outstanding return for a modest sum came on April 29 1980, in the middle of a regional press printing strike. Working freelance at that time in this area, no papers meant no work. My other sideline at the time- helping to run a hang gliding school- was also grounded because of unsuitable winds and wind direction,so what better to do than go to Plumpton races?

The day was April 29 1980 and in those day the Tote jackpot had a 50p stake and races two to six only were involved. So it was a case of choosing the winners of five races before the first of them had run.

I looked in the paddock before the second race- the start of the jackpot. It was a selling hurdle with a mix of claimer riders and top professionals like Steve Smith Eccles and Richard Rowe.

I was mesmerised by a striking grey, Mount Teide trained and ridden by Surrey permit holder R H York.

For some reason it had drifted out in the betting and was a real outsider, even though the horse looked outstanding in the ring.

I felt compelled to make Mount Teide my first selection, and the rest seemed easy. All were local horses- Charlie Moore's Aureem, Derek Kent's Sandor, Josh Gifford's Egbert and Physicist.

Egbert was not particularly well-fancied either, but I'd seen him out with the string at Findon, where my own ex-racehorse was stabled next door to Downs Racing Stables.He was glossy, dark and five years old, and oozed personality, which I liked.

One by one they won and I was amazed to find myself the only person in the queue at the Tote window. I came away with 877.33p- an outstanding return in those days.