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Spectator
17-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Spectator
Ascot has been ruined by the middle classes
Today, I go to Ascot. The last time I darkened the turf of the Royal Enclosure was in 2017, when I was heavily pregnant with my first daughter. In the photograph of my husband and me that day, I resemble a whale with a plate attached to its head, while my husband looks as if he might at any moment burst into flames from wearing tails and top hat in a heatwave. As you can imagine, we both look rather cross. Curiously, though, on the edge of the photo, there appears to be another couple posing for the camera who look to be having a brilliant time. The gentleman is wearing a cravat of some sort, no tails or topper, while his lady love sports a pink minidress. Forget the Royal Enclosure, now so thoroughly middle-class and non-exclusive as to be considered a joke by true chins – the real party is in the Windsor Enclosure. Not that I've ever been invited, more's the pity. There, for the price of £35, you will get the first view of the royal procession, enjoy live music and not be subjected to any official dress code, the subject of which will fill feature supplements in the broadsheets for this entire week. Horse and Hound carefully describes the Windsor Enclosure as 'ideal for large groups'. Ideal, in other words, for a proper knees-up – which is what Ascot ought to be. Except it's not. The Royal Ascot committee has engaged in aggressive commercialisation, with strict policing of enclosures using badges and QR codes by gatekeepers such as Felicity Barnard, formerly of West Ham and Arsenal management. Ascot is now an exercise in manicured social segregation led by the Middleton classes. It doesn't have to be like this. Horsey and racing circles have always been predicated on one of the great curiosities of English social life: snob and mob. S&M, as writer Ed West puts it, works on the horseshoe theory: 'popular with the toffs at the top and the plebs at the bottom, with not much interest in between'. This social horseshoe is why, according to The Spectator's agony aunt, Mary Killen, in horsey circles, 'everyone is equal over and under the turf'. Other racing events such as Cheltenham combine snob and mob to spectacular effect, leading, as one chin quietly put it to me, to 'a naff-cot strike' in recent years. Of course, the upper classes still congregate at Ascot in the White's or Cavalry & Guards tents and will always be seen braying away over a picnic in Car Park One, but true toffs prefer something a bit more bonkers and a lot more louche. Horsey and racing circles have always been predicated on one of the great curiosities of English social life: snob and mob Other examples of social horseshoe institutions that work on the snob and mob theory are the Army, where officers and squaddies have always socialised uproariously together, and shooting, where the guns and the beaters are blissfully happy in each other's company between drives. Maybe snob and mob works best in the country, far away from liberal urban agglomerations that flatten the bend out of all recognition. And, in some ways, we can see the wild and relentless success of Clarkson's Farm as the upper-lower class union at its best. While I'm not suggesting that Jeremy Clarkson is an aristocrat, there is some horseshoe class magic at work between his relationship with Kaleb and Gerald, both so removed from each other socially as to find the whole thing hilarious. and exchange insults lovingly. Outside of the social calendar, I notice snob and mob uniting in all sorts of different and subtle ways in everyday life: the love of dogs and their filth, the preference for instant coffee (not a drop of oat milk in sight), the large number of children, the blissfully tolerant attitude to smoking indoors, the shared love of tattoos (see Queen Vic); I could go on. Forget Freud's narcissism of small differences, this is the happy clarity of large differences: upper and lower classes can act in the same way because there is no danger of either being mistaken. Politically, snob and mob may also account for why the lower classes regard Boris Johnson and, to some extent, Jacob Rees-Mogg as one of their own. But for now, back to Ascot. I'll be there in a few hours, looking wistfully on at the brilliantly bonkers, hedonistic, alive punters in the Windsor Enclosure and vowing – as I always do – never to go into the Royal Enclosure ever again. Maybe there's a boxing match I could go to next year instead. Far more my scene.
Yahoo
11-05-2025
- Sport
- Yahoo
Canter wins Badminton Horse Trials for second time
Olympic gold medallist Ros Canter won the Badminton Horse Trials for the second time in her career on Lordships Graffalo. The pair, who claimed the title in 2023, regained it following a clear round in the showjumping. Britain's Canter was second after the dressage and cross country elements behind compatriot Oliver Townend, who won the 2009 event. But Townend, last out on board Cooley Rosalent, knocked down a rail in the showjumping finale to slip to second overall. Canter, who was part of the British eventing team to win gold in the Paris Olympics last summer, dedicated her victory to her coach and mentor Caroline Moore, who died two months ago. "This was for Caroline Moore, she was by my side my whole career," Canter told Horse and Hound. "I'm so pleased I managed to make her proud. It's the first time I've done anything without her. Not only was she my trainer and mentor, but also the best friend."
Sunday World
02-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Sunday World
You won't be Horsing into the pints in Delgany's Horse & Hound with pints at a pricey €6.50
Wicklow boozer is a great spot with an amazing atmosphere but it is very much on the expensive side Nine years ago Pub Spy paid a very quick visit to the village of Delgany, Co Wicklow, but before that we can't remember when we made a visit. We were long overdue a good knees-up in Co Wicklow and we were interested to see how things might have changed over the past decade. As it turned out, very little has changed in the area with the exception of a few new houses, and the small village remains exactly how we remembered it. The streets leading to both pubs are very narrow and parking can prove hazardous at times. We managed to get parking close to the Horse and Hound pub but we left the fate of the pub-mobile in the hands of our Lord as we said a novena and blessed ourselves that we'd come back to find it in one piece. There were two barmen on duty when we arrived and the contrast between them couldn't have been any more stark. The barman with a beard served us immediately and he was certainly the chattier of the two. The second barman disappeared shortly after we arrived and we didn't see him again. There is a large selection of drinks available on draught such as Guinness and Heineken Zero, Murphy's, Wicklow Wolf, Tiger, Birra Moretti, Orchard Thieves and Coors to name but a few, but we were shocked when we had to pay €6.50 for a pint of Guinness. 'It's a good job they're building all those houses down the road 'cause the current locals will be bankrupt if they keep forking out that kind of money for a drink,' the Young Commando said jokingly. Once he had recovered from a suspected stroke and managed to lift his jaw off the ground, the Old Commando sampled the creamy pints and although he was far from impressed by the price, he did at least enjoy the taste. He enjoyed the second and third pints too. There was a mixed clientele of mostly young to middle aged people when we arrived but the longer we stayed the busier it got, and the crowd arriving was getting younger as the night was getting longer. The atmosphere was very good and we were very content as we sat beside the modern cylinder shaped stove which was burning logs of timber and keeping us nice and toasty. A votive candle was placed on each table. The red velvet barstools at the counter were old but in good condition, and the same could be said for the bench seating and timber flooring. While the furnishings certainly aren't new, they suited the surroundings and it's the type of boozer the Old Commando wishes there was more of. With the exception of the stove and the TVs, there's probably nothing modern about the place. They serve food here in the front bar and there is also a large restaurant section behind the front bar downstairs, although it didn't seem to be open during our visit. There are plenty of hunting photos hanging through this pub, which was established in 1790, and they have advertised a live traditional music session every Wednesday from 9.30pm. Our Young Commando inspected the toilets and he reported back to us that they were very clean with three urinals and three cubicles. We enjoyed our few expensive pints in The Horse and Hound pub in Delgany, and thankfully the pub-mobile was in one piece when we got back to it. Rating: Three pints out of Five One for the road: Wicklow Arms – Delgany We've already bookmarked a return visit to this pub. As best as our memory tells us, we had never been to The Wicklow Arms pub in Delgany before but it made an instant impression on us. Established in 1856, this spacious boozer is in wonderful condition with high ceilings, a brilliant atmosphere and a predominately female clientele. The yellow velvet barstools were in good condition and plentiful, as was the green velvet wall seating. We counted five TVs located throughout the bar. A young barman named Josh served us and there were two waitresses on duty during our stay. They were serving food in one section at the far end of the pub and our stomachs were grumbling each time the wait staff passed our table. As expected, the toilets were immaculately clean with two cubicles and four urinals. We were extremely impressed by our surroundings and fully intend to return for a longer stint. Keep up the good work. Rating: Four pints out of Five
