Bloody donkeys

Well, seemed like a good idea to get a few quid down for the Grand National. Now for those who don't know, I have had a pretty damn good run with the National over the last five years. Certainly into four figure profiit. This year, unfortunately, I had no money to gamble away. After spending about three hours on the fone with mother, I finally talked into letting me place a fairy substantial amount of her money on the race. Out of the top four, I had...not a one! Not one fucking horse was placed, out of the seven horses I bet on, not one of them thought that it would be a good idea to cross the line in the same decade that they set off. Bastards.

On a lighter note, I gave Jon a couple of tips, that I didn't have money on, as he is a jinx when it comes to horses. He was very drunk, having been drinking whisky with me until about 8ish that morning, before getting about an hours sleep, before heading off to his sister's wedding. Yestein the pub he mentions that he had money on Hedgehunter, one of my tips, who had actually been placed, but Jon had been too pissed to realise that fourth is placed on the National, assumed he'd lost, and tore up his betting slip, therefore losing him....(sounds of frantic mental arithmetic) £22.50 which is, I concur, not a huge amount of money, but it is definitely better than, for example, having a vigorous body rub off a hairy man with a cheesegrater.