The Cheltenham Festival reaffirmed itself as the greatest sporting event in the world last week.
The sight of men past their prime and women of a certain age who would not pass the vet galloping through the turnstiles “a la false start” was a reassuring reminder that the crowd have this sport flowing through their veins.
The Festival would be nothing without the Irish fans who have been coming since Arkle blew the roof off the stands in the early 1960s. And thank God there are still priests among them.
The high for the winners, such as Jeremy Scott, who trains a handful of horses, was too much to take in among the baying crowd after the little mare Golden Ace had won the Champion Hurdle.