When did the world stop caring about Ukraine?
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Nothing really grabs me betting-wise at Ascot or elsewhere tomorrow but the entries are out for the big races at Cheltenham’s November meeting in just two weeks’ time and I would rather try to find a bit of ante-post value over those three days. The highlight of the third and final day of the meeting – Sunday 15 November – is the Unibet Greatwood Hurdle (3:10 p.m.) over a distance of two miles. Forty-four horses were entered for the race last week but, come the day of the contest, it may have less than its maximum permitted field of 20 runners. We now know that HELNWEIN faced an impossible task in last year’s race in receipt of only 5lbs from trainer Joe Tizzard’s Alexei, who was then running off an official mark of just 134.
This week's magazine
The race to go private
Postwar Britain can be defined by a bargain made with its middle class: pay for public services but benefit from them too. Private education has always been the choice of a very small minority; private healthcare was reserved for the wealthiest and those whose employers paid for it. Middle England was content to send their children to the same schools as everyone else and use the same GPs, hospitals and dentists. This is no longer true. State spending continues to grow, yet large parts of the population now pay privately to supplement what their taxes have already provided.
Postwar Britain can be defined by a bargain made with its middle class: pay for public services but benefit from them too. Private education has always been the choice of a very small minority; private healthcare was reserved for the wealthiest and those whose employers paid for it. Middle England was content to send their children to the same schools as everyone else and use the same GPs, hospitals and dentists. This is no longer true. State spending continues to grow, yet large parts of the population now pay privately to supplement what their taxes have already provided.
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Authors hate it when reviewers refer to their book as a ‘weighty tome’ as it implies that the contents are going to be about as much fun as Deuteronomy. So I should make it clear that while Tim Hayward’s The Cocktail Hour (Quadrille, £20) is extremely weighty, that’s because the production values are off the scale. The monks at Lindisfarne could scarcely have put more effort into illuminating their work. And while the paper is heavy, Hayward’s writing is as refreshing as a perfectly made dry martini. There are hundreds of cocktail books out there, but none combine Hayward’s erudition, obsession and sense of humour. He is at once deadly serious and very, very funny. It’s the best book on the subject since Bernard DeVoto’s 1948 book The Hour.