He was extremely accurate on ground and could predict exactly how the courses would ride. After all, he had walked and ridden enough of them in his days as a jockey. When he assessed the Cheltenham ground he was always closely questioned afterwards by the clerk of the course and members of the press. They valued his opinion, because nobody was more at home at Cheltenham than Terry. He had ridden numerous winners there and knew the course inside out. It was his favourite track and held a multitude of memories for him, both good and bad.
In concluding my observations on the habits of owners, I must say that it was extremely irritating to see owners push themselves into the weighing room. It certainly drove Terry mad. This area is the holy of holies and strictly reserved for trainers, jockeys and racecourse personnel. Weighing rooms are never large areas and to have them cluttered up by unwanted outsiders who have no business being there aggravates the officials and gives trainers a bad name. The jockeys need privacy and peace, and they are seldom in the mood to talk to owners prior to their rides. Matters of vital importance can be discussed through the trainers.
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The best owners were always the ones who listened and cooperated with us, talking about their horses in a sensible and logical way. We knew that although the horses were there to win races, racing had to be fun as well. Owners need to have maximum enjoyment and feel part of a team.
Every autumn, usually on the third Sunday in September, we held a special open day for our owners. The horses were paraded in the little paddock behind our house while I provided the commentary. We looked forward to these days and spent many hours planning them. The horses always looked magnificent, because at that time of year they were three-parts race-fit and close to a run. They still had shining summer coats and the staff took huge pride in turning them out smartly, with all manes pulled and hooves oiled.
Terry spent hours tending to the grass in the parade ring. In the weeks leading up to the open days, he went round and round the paddock, as well as along the grass areas by the barns, on his sit-on mower. He was often naked from the waist upwards and got very sunburnt, despite wearing the huge wide-brimmed hat that he had brought back from Australia.
For the open days, we usually placed bales of straw round the edges of the viewing area and rows of chairs against the wall, close to the entrance gate. Occasionally, we positioned long flat-bed trailers, with further straw bales, on the other side of the perimeter railings, so that owners could sit higher and get a better view of the horses. When we had extra-big open days, we hired special tiered seats, but these were extremely expensive and we only ordered them in the years we could afford them. This was for the Best Mate Open Day in 2003 and the Hen and Terry Charity Open Day in 2004. Thousands of visitors turned up at the farm on these occasions. We were able to raise money for the Thames Valley and Chiltern Air Ambulance, as well as for The Injured Jockeys Fund.
I enjoyed sitting in my little caravan/commentary box during our open days. I got a bird’s-eye view of all that was going on and I was never afraid to use the microphone to give Terry a ticking off, especially if he sent in the horses too slowly. He always preferred to be at the entrance to the parade ring and have his special friends around him. He used his long walking stick to give the horses a prod if they hung back at the sight of the crowds. Our guests seemed to appreciate the banter between myself and Terry. It made the occasion more light-hearted. On several days, one of our yard sponsors donated prizes for the staff. When this happened, I made sure that all the lads and lasses received an envelope or a bottle of wine. I approached certain owners to present the awards and there are some brilliant photographs on file recording these highlights.
When our open-day parades had finished, we opened the stables for our guests to explore. Members of staff were on duty in different areas and kept a close check on the horses to ensure that they did not get overexcited. They enjoyed talking to the visitors but found that they had to answer some strange questions. As well as the activity in the yard there was also an abundance of food and drink in our specially designated marquee in the garden, and although we issued our owners with special badges, there were always a number of gatecrashers on the lookout for freebies. Terry enjoyed sorting them out and he did not mince his words.
He also made sure that the waitresses kept the guests’ glasses well filled. He mingled with everybody and was always the star attraction. It didn’t matter whether he knew the guests or not; they all got the same treatment. Indeed, one of my owners, Ted Birchall, who only joined us in my later training years, wrote a lovely appreciation of Terry:
‘Racing in Terry’s day was still a sport and not being run for the benefit of the bookmakers. I was in the Silver Ring, looking in. Wishing! Many years later I could just about afford a small share in a partnership. I chanced upon Henrietta Knight and West Lockinge Farm. With Hen came Terry, who was the added bonus. I only met Terry a few times, as unfortunately his problems often kept him confined to his box. However, I did sit with him for a while in the garden, during the last of Hen’s owners’ open days, where we discussed the old days and put the world to rights regarding the modern racing scene. Terry asked me about myself and my wife, Dorrie. He took an interest in our comparatively mundane careers. We were ex-fire officers. I realised that, despite our totally different backgrounds, there may have been some empathy somewhere, maybe even mutual respect. I certainly respected Terry, if that is another word for hero-worship. When I was driving home, I then knew that I was no longer in the Silver Ring. I am extremely proud to have made his acquaintance and, dare I say it, maybe even for a short while, been his friend.’
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At the end of every open day, the owners and guests were given entry forms for the Five To Follow competition. They needed to select five horses from the yard to follow for the season for an entry fee of £5. First prize was usually £500. The competition became extremely popular. Each horse got points for being in the first four in any race and we sent out monthly updates. Everybody became involved and the entrants got to know more about the horses and how they were performing.
The open days were such happy occasions and Terry’s presence made them double the fun. He used to get extremely tired walking around and talking to owners, but he never complained and never admitted how much his arthritis was hurting him. He supported me through and through. During these days, the geese and ducks would also wander around in the farmyard, but they never caused any problems. Nor did the pond beside the stables. Only once did we put barriers around it to satisfy the Health & Safety inspectors and the insurers.
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It was a particular honour to train several horses for the Queen and even more exciting when one of them, Harvest Song, ridden by William Kennedy, won a hurdle race at Fontwell in 2010. Mostly, the Queen’s jumpers are trained by Nicky Henderson, but a few with physical problems ended up at West Lockinge. Her Majesty visited the farm and I well remember driving her up to the gallops to watch her horses. We still had the bus at that time, but No. 69 was no longer visible on the front. The Queen was a wonderful owner. I used to telephone her at Windsor Castle or Buckingham Palace to discuss the well-being of her horses and I always spoke to her after a race. She is unbelievably knowledgeable about horses and racing. It was always a great privilege for my staff to take her racing colours into the weighing room and watch the jockeys come out into the paddock wearing the royal silks, with the black velvet cap and gold tassle.
I began training racehorses for the Brashers – Chris and Shirley – due to an unusual meeting in the weighing room at Wolverhampton in 1992, when that course was still a jumping track. There was a call on the tannoy: ‘Would Henrietta Knight please go to the weighing room.’ These messages are worrying for trainers, because it often means that the stewards want to interview them about the running or riding of a certain horse. On this occasion I couldn’t see that there had been anything untoward with the way our horses had performed. Apprehensively, I put down my sandwich in the bar and
walked to the weighing room. It was there that a middle-aged couple introduced themselves and said that they would like to talk to me about buying a racehorse.
At the time, I didn’t realise how famous these two future owners were. Chris Brasher had not only won that Olympic gold medal in Melbourne in 1956 and started the first London Marathon in 1981, but he had also made sporting history by helping Sir Roger Bannister run the first four-minute mile in 1954. Shirley Brasher had been a top-class tennis player under her maiden name of Bloomer. In her prime, she had won the French Open. She explained to me that she liked lady trainers and female horses. Could I find her a nice young mare for sensible money? A few months later, I came across a strong bay filly by King’s Ride that was being sold privately by Mark Dwyer. Shirley bought her and named her Princess Hotpot. We had a great deal of fun with this mare, including several wins. Shirley even rode her herself, a few times, when she visited the yard. Hotpot had a fantastic temperament and was a brilliant jumper.
Val McCalla was another interesting owner. He was Jamaican by birth, highly intelligent and the founder of The Voice, a newspaper aimed at Britain’s black community. He answered an advertisement for a horse for sale that I had put in the Racing Post. We had plenty of successes for Val and he was unbelievably generous. When his four-year-old, Stompin by Alzao, won the Glenlivet Hurdle at Aintree in 1995, he had clearly had a substantial bet. Two days later, he rang me to say that he was sending me a present for training Stompin. I expected that this would most probably be a case of wine or champagne, because Val loved to drink. Imagine my surprise when a brand-new Volvo arrived in the yard with the personalised number plate, M11 HEN. I was speechless, but gratefully accepted it and I still drive Volvo cars today – with that same number plate.
As our years with Val progressed, he sponsored races at Kempton every February, one of which was the Adonis hurdle. He held pre-racing receptions in a large box overlooking the track and invited many famous people. Terry’s eyes were on stalks when he came face to face with the beautiful Naomi Campbell. Val often took us out for lunches in smart restaurants with his charming wife, Linda, but sadly, as his health gradually deteriorated, he was no longer well enough to go racing. He died in 2002 and both Terry and I were greatly saddened. We missed him.
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A few of my owners bred their own horses and were rightly proud when they won races. The Wyatt family, from Snetterton in Norfolk, were great enthusiasts and had a thoroughbred mare called Ardenbar, by Ardross. She produced numerous winners and when her son, Muhtenbar, won a race at Ascot in 2009, it gave Tim and Anne Wyatt a day to remember. Terry always enjoyed teasing their daughter, Cherry, who had eye-catching hair with black and blonde streaks. Terry called her ‘the Friesian’: just one of the many nicknames he gave my owners. He seldom remembered their real names. Many a time I had to think twice before realising to whom he was referring, and when he was asked to write down a telephone message, the names were often impossible to decipher. It was as though they had been written down in code.
Terry christened one of my long-standing owners ‘Brandy’. Stephen Smith, who had several horses in our yard, used to work for Seagram, the parent company of Martell, the Grand National sponsor. The fact that Martell was actually a very fine cognac, and not just a brandy, was a subtlety lost on Terry, but he always enjoyed the lunch at Aintree, particularly as it was prepared by top chef Albert Roux. Our biggest wins for Stephen were with a horse called Harris Bay, which needed to go right-handed and loved Ascot, where he won a £50,000 handicap in November 2007 and the United House Gold Cup the following year, under a masterful ride from Timmy Murphy.
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Lord Cadogan – Charles, whom I have already mentioned in previous chapters – was a great supporter of Terry’s. He was Lord Chelsea in Terry’s racing days, but the title changed after his father died. Both he and his father were great National Hunt enthusiasts and had some very good horses. Charles was an excellent owner at West Lockinge Farm and was a big support to me when I began training. For many years he was deputy senior steward of the Jockey Club and director of Jockey Club Estates. At one time, he had seven horses in the yard and he was one of the easiest owners I ever encountered. He thoroughly understands the game and has been a Jockey Club steward at many racecourses.
Recently, he told me about an amusing incident dating back to the 1960s, when Terry was asked to ride a horse of his, trained by Verly Bewicke. He was a big black youngster from Ireland called The Black Moth, by Black Tarquin. At home he was a superstar on the gallops and jumped superbly, but on a racecourse he continually disappointed and would not take the proceedings seriously. He did not try a yard. Terry was given the leg up in a novice hurdle that day at Worcester in order to assess the horse. The ground was heavy. Beside the starting gate was a huge puddle of water and other parts of the course were flooded.
In the paddock, Charles told Terry not to trust his mount at the start because he was a playboy and to keep him on the move. He told Terry not to take him behind the gate where the floodwater was lying. As it so happened, the start was delayed due to a horse being resaddled, and without thinking Terry wandered over to the water puddle, where The Black Moth went straight down and began to roll. Both the jockey and horse were soaked.
The Black Moth completed the race, but made little effort. On dismounting, Terry was not amused; as well as being drenched, his clean white breeches were covered in mud. A few years later, the same horse was given to Captain Tim Forster to lead his string, a job that he did well, and then he won six or seven point-to-point races, but it’s a story that always sticks in Charles’s mind. Fortunately there were few puddles at Letcombe Bassett – except along the Ridgeway, and everybody was well warned.
The staff in the yard loved it if Terry gave them a nickname. At one time we had two Bens working for us. Terry called one of them ‘Bendy Ben’ because he was the middle one of triplets and walked slightly lopsidedly. This was Ben Arthey, now doing well as a trainer in Northern Ireland. The other Ben was called ‘Ben Cock’, because he always cocked up the schooling sessions. This Ben – Ben Rivett – went on to be a successful point-to-point rider in East Anglia and is now a much-respected estate agent.
Jim Lewis, of course, had many horses at West Lockinge Farm, including Best Mate, Edredon Bleu and Impek. Inevitably he was known by Terry as ‘Lucky Jim’. Jim was extremely superstitious, and always took a toy black cat with him to the races. One season, he only visited West Lockinge Farm once, on the owners’ open day. This was the year before Best Mate’s first Gold Cup win, so ever afterwards we thought it brought us more luck if he stayed away.
Jim often muddled his horses up when he saw them on a racecourse, partly because most of them were bay. He always enjoyed making Terry laugh with this story against himself. ‘It was Boxing Day in 2002. Best Mate and Lord Noelie were both running in the King George VI chase. As usual, I accompanied Terry to the pre-race saddling boxes. The low sun was in my eyes and my varifocals were very dark. Nervous as hell, I dutifully followed Terry into the box and put my hands on this beautiful horse’s neck – “Go well, Matey,” I said, “and come home safely.” Terry doing his best to stifle a laugh said, “Jim, this is Lord Noelie, you daft bugger. Go back and have another Guinness.”’
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Trevor Hemmings was an exceptional owner. He had horses in a number of yards and it was a privilege to train for him. Funnily enough, it was during that unusual holiday at the Sheen Falls Hotel in Co. Kerry in 1998 that I received a telephone call from Trevor. At the time we were driving round the beautiful countryside in our hired car when my mobile telephone rang. Over the next ten years we trained plenty of winners for him, including Chives, which was upsides Best Mate in the 2003 Gold Cup at the top of the hill, only to fade in the closing stages due to a broken blood vessel. Then Southern Star won the Warwick Classic Chase in 2004, ridden by Graham Lee, a jockey whom both Terry and I always believed in wholeheartedly, and Glasker Mill won several good chases,
including one at Cheltenham in 2007.
Trevor also owned a horse called The Vicar, which he claimed to have named after Terry. He won us a few races, but was somewhat unpredictable and nobody ever knew what he would do next. Well-named?
It was great when Trevor won three Grand Nationals with Hedgehunter in 2005, trained by Willie Mullins, Ballabriggs in 2011, trained by Donald McCain Jr, and Many Clouds in 2015, trained by Oliver Sherwood. He lives close to Aintree and from childhood had always dreamt of winning races on the Liverpool course. He has a great sense of humour and I always enjoy talking to him. When I was training, he often rang me up on a Sunday morning and we would put the world to rights.
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One of my more unconventional owners, Jan Johnson, came from Wales. Her husband, Victor, bought her an unraced three-year-old – later named Lord JJ – as a birthday present. Jan arrived at the yard as always in amazingly high-heeled shoes and promptly got her heels stuck down one of the grids covering a drain. Terry seized the opportunity, lifting up and stroking her shapely legs to free her from the trap – just like a farrier picking up a horse’s leg to shoe it. Many years later, when Terry and I were on holiday in Mull, Scotland, with Tim Radford, Victor and Jan joined us and Jan announced that she would like to go pony-trekking, which involved scenic rides along the beaches of the island. However, because she had barely ridden before, she did not enjoy the experience. It frightened her and she felt decidedly weak at the knees afterwards. Terry said, ‘Jan, I suggest that at your age you give up the idea of riding four-legged animals and concentrate on riding the ones you understand: the two-legged ones.’
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During the many years Terry and I went racing together, we came into contact with a large number of fellow trainers, both in England and in Ireland. Terry got along well with most of them and they respected him. In 2011, we stayed a night with Martin and Carol Pipe at Nicholashayne, Devon. We were looked after like royalty and had the most wonderful time. Not only did we have a superb tour of the yard and the gallops, but we were taken to the local pub for a fun dinner and evening. Terry always got on extremely well with Martin and there were plenty of jokes. When we went to bed we found that Martin had placed a blow-up doll on Terry’s side of the bed. Terry was highly amused and immediately picked her up and cuddled her, while Carol Pipe and I doubled up with laughter.
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