Christine and The Queens - Round Houses and Split Pants

I love The Roundhouse. It's like a miniature Royal Albert Hall, dropped like a steampunk flying saucer into the heart of Camden, almost as though Victorian aliens just knew that one hundred years later the area around Chalk Farm would be one of the most culturally exciting neighbourhoods within the capital, and would need a suitably eclectic venue.

The truth, as is often the case, is rather more mundane. The Roundhouse was built in 1847 by the London and North Western Railway, and was known as The Great Circular Engine House. Basically, it was a garage for steam trains, which would enter and leave using its central turntable. Unfortunately, as steam trains got longer, they rapidly outgrew their garage. A bit like today's huge SUV's failing to negotiate the parking spaces in our old NCP multi-storeys. Nowadays it is a 3000 capacity arts venue, having opened as such back in 1964. My first visit was during my first term at college back in 1976 when I made the three-bus journey across London from Chelsea to see US teenage punk band The Runaways.

Then, as now, walking into The Roundhouse elicits an awesome inspiration of breath as you gaze upwards and take in the wonderful cast-iron skeleton of the building, the circular seated gallery, and the huge stage. I am back here tonight, with a standing ticket, to see French musician Héloïse Letissier, better known as Christine and The Queens.

Earlier this year I reviewed the English language version of her debut album for Outline Magazine ( http://www.outlineonline.co.uk/music/albums/christine-and-the-queens---chaleur-humaine ), and from memory awarded it 9/10.  It only lost a mark because I would have preferred it to have also contained the French-language versions of songs like Tilt, perhaps as bonus tracks. The original album, Chaleur Humaine, released almost two years earlier in France, had been a huge hit, then was re-worked with English lyrics for the American market. I was too late to get a ticket for her London show at Koko in March (tickets were re-selling for up to £250 each), so made sure that I bagged one for the Roundhouse gig as soon as the date was announced. Shortly afterwards Christine and The Queens were announced for this year's Latitude Festival, and they have appeared on Later With Jools Holland.

Tonight's London show is another sell-out, even with the larger venue, but the majority of the audience do appear to be speaking French. London has a huge ex-pat community so this is not a complete surprise, but I guess that I secretly hoped that a few more English music fans might have picked up on Christine and The Queens by now.

Support comes from Dutch electro-pop duo Klyne - Nick Klein on vocals and Ferdhous Dehzard on synths, with a back-up drummer. They do pulsating synths and pained vocals reasonably well - the Roundhouse's rich and resonant sound system beefing up even the most delicate of electronic trilling, and tracks like Waiting, Closer and Paralysed are warmly received. They remind of a mid-tempo Metronomy at times, but nothing to get really excited about.

Christine and The Queens take the stage just as the Gallic anticipation is reaching its chattering climax - Héloïse leading out her four male dancers whilst the three-piece band take their positions on the plinths behind - two synth players and a guitarist. There is time to play the entire track list of Chaleur Humaine - sometimes supplemented with video projection contributions from collaborators Perfumed Genius and Tunje Ige (as in Jonathan and No Harm is Done), sometimes with Héloïse silhouetted by a lone spotlight against a darkened stage, but often with some energetic, acrobatic and well-choreographed dance moves. The muscular frames of the four males shadow and extend the drama created by Héloïse's diminutive, suited form. There are elements of Michael Jackson, Prince and even Madonna in the way they use the stage area, but it is the big grin and gurning expressiveness of our French heroine that carves out the performance as a spectacle rather than a tribute.

The partisan crowd constantly shout for her to speak in French to the point where it is easy to forget that you are not actually in Paris. Her English is fluent, although when she tries to use metaphor and nuance between numbers to explain her philosophy on individuality and gender expression it quickly becomes rather clumsy and stilted. The moment when she brings on a bouquet of flowers and holds herself up as a plain stem against the roses of Beyoncé and Rhianna doesn't quite work on a crowd that is just wanting her to throw the blooms into the pit of adoring fans.

There are another couple of things that don't go quite to plane. The synths on one song don't kick in on time at the beginning, causing a re-start, and her suit pants unceremoniously rip in the crotch area during one particularly exertive dance move. Ever the trouper, she simply grabs a piece of black fabric from the stage, wraps it around her waist and continues to the end of the number, microphone held in one hand, black wrap-around secured with the other, but still dancing. An impromptu unrehearsed costume change follows.

For the encore, though, the costume change is intentional, when in a slightly bizarre course of events, our star stilt-walks onto the stage in a spangly glittery suit for the final number, and for the first time in the evening dwarfing her dancers. It is all a bit bizarre, but then that is what Christine and The Queens is all about - a theatrical, emotive, mis-fit embracing individuality openness and honesty. Be whatever you want to be , and do it to the best of your ability, and allow others to do the same.

Now, let's get a few more English fans along to her Latitude appearance in the Summer, and let's give a little bit of that love back.


Christine and The Queens website - http://www.christineandthequeens.com/home/

Christine and The Queens Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/christineandthequeens

Klyne on Soundcloud - https://soundcloud.com/thisisklyne

Klyne on Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/ThisIsKlyne/

Buy 'Chaleur Humaine' from Amazon - https://www.amazon.co.uk/Chaleur-Humaine-Christine-Queens/dp/B00KGLR3DA

Burying St Edmund, Greene Kings, and Rita Coolidge - Just another day out in Suffolk, but a 'Grand Day Out' all the same.

I cannot remember exactly how this day came about, but I suspect it all began with a Rita Coolidge track popping up on shuffle on my i-Pod. As is often the case with an artist that I don't listen to all the time, I do a quick search on Google to see if a) they are still alive, b) still performing, and c) possibly touring and playing close to Norwich anytime soon. Well, Rita Coolidge is still very much alive, and according to her website, is about to undertake a UK tour that takes in The Apex, in Bury St Edmunds.

Tickets were £24, but it is not everyday that I find a seventies American legend performing that close to Norwich (Bury St Edmunds is just over 40 miles, making it about the same distance away as Ipswich). As I hadn't ever been to a show at the recently-opened Apex venue, I went ahead and booked myself a ticket.

As the date approached, I decided to make a day of it - I haven't been to Bury St Edmunds since the year before La Maman died - and this seemed like a good excuse to have a wander around somewhere other than Norwich's Anglia Square. The weather forecast looked good, so I could check out the town, have a rummage around the charity shops for used CDs, and pay my respects to the cathedral and the abbey ruins. I could even book onto a guided tour of the Greene King brewery - something that really requires either taking a designated driver, or leaving several hours to elapse before driving home myself. Yes, this could be quite a grand day out!

Bury St Edmunds
I may have been a bit over-keen, but I set the alarm early, with a view to leaving the house by 9am. I figured that it's about a one hour drive, but it was a Saturday and I wanted to make sure that I arrived in time to grab a long-stay car parking spot. Internet research had shown that the Parkway multi-storey car park near the town centre offered all-day car parking for the very reasonable fee of £3, although I would possibly have to cough up another pound to extend for the evening. I ensured that my phone and camera batteries were fully charged, made a couple of rounds of egg sandwiches, and set off.

The sat-nav interestingly took me right through the centre of Thetford but I arrived soon after 10am as expected. I found the car park without any problem, only to discover that on a Saturday I was only allowed a maximum of four hours - not much good to me. I therefore resorted to 'plan B' and drove out to beyond the limits of the permit-holder zone (found a spot in Westley Road which is almost opposite the University College Suffolk campus), and strolled back into town. Took about ten minutes, max.

After locating The Apex I was able to collect my ticket without any problem - they didn't need a booking reference number, or even any ID. So much more trusting than some other venues. The Apex has now been open for just over five years, and has a light and spacious foyer with a café on the ground floor and a bar upstairs. It forms part of the modern Arc shopping centre, built on the site of the old cattle market, and it's presence here is surprising, seeing as the restaurant and Cineworld complex situated on the other side of Parkway might have been a tempting alternative (à la Cambridge Junction). Instead it is surrounded on three sides by modern shopping units, including a futuristic looking Debenhams that has echoes of a 'Birmingham-Bull Ring-Selfridges' kind of thing going on. Top marks to Bury St Edmunds for providing such an impressive arts venue so close to the heart of the town (the former arts venue at the historic Corn Exchange has since become a bar and restaurant run by Wetherspooon).

It is only a short walk through the town centre to the abbey grounds, but I decide to go to the brewery visitor centre first to sort out a place on one of the day's guided tours. There is still limited availability on the 2.00pm tour, but I decide to bag the final place on the last tour at 3.30pm. I hand over my £12 and they take my name, but I get neither ticket or receipt in exchange. They really are a laid-back and trusting lot in Bury St Edmunds.

It is a beautiful sunny day and dramatic white clouds billow up against a bright blue sky - perfect for wandering around outside and taking some pictures. I am soon reminded how this town came by its name :

Edmund, King of East Anglia, was captured by the Danes in 869AD. When he refused to renounce his Christian faith he was tied to a tree, shot with arrows until he 'bristled like a hedgehog', and finally decapitated. His head was eventually located, being guarded by wolves, and was allowed to be brought back to his body, at which point it miraculously re-fused itself at the neck. The body was later placed within the abbey of Bury St Edmunds, where the shrine became one of England's wealthiest and most famous places of pilgrimage. Indeed, St Edmund became patron saint of England until he was usurped by the dragon-slaying St George almost five hundred years later, in 1350. Even Henry VIII was so in awe of the legend of St Edmund that the abbey was one of the very last of the country's monasteries to be dissolved, the king being almost afraid to alienate the believers in Edmund.

Nowadays, only remain where once the great abbey stood, but in its shadow lies the Anglican Cathedral of St Edmundsbury, which serves the diocese of St Edmundsbury and Ipswich (hence, Bury St Edmunds remains as a town and not a city). Construction of the cathedral started in Norman times, but the central tower was only completed during this century (between the years of 2000 and 2005).

Greene King Brewery

I have been a legal drinker of Greene King ales for forty years now, and I probably had my first taste even earlier than that. My parents were regular and frequent visitors to the Loaves and Fishes in Beccles, specifically for imbibing in the Abbot Ale, and I was known to accompany them on more than one occasion. Lowestoft, at the time, was a barren wasteland for 'real ale' drinkers with Watneys and Whitbread owning the vast majority of pubs. Apart from a couple of Adnams pubs in the town, proper beer was found only by venturing further south towards Southwold, or west towards Bury St Edmunds.

The Greene King brewery has grown massively in the intervening years, and now produces 14 million pints of beer every week. It has grown by acquisition over the years, and now it is not just the range of Greene King ales that are brewed at Bury St Edmunds, but also Ruddles, Old Speckled Hen, Hardy & Hanson, and a trendy range of craft and speciality beers. Purists may claim that such large-scale production has debased the heritage of the original product, but John, our tour guide, explains that the modern technology merely assists the production of such a wide range of ales. Whatever.

The secret, he claims, lies in the modern brewers' ability to blend a larger number of hop varieties with the malt, the grain and the yeast, and also in the ability to 'balance' the water for each brew by adjusting the hardness and the mineral composition. The barley is no longer malted on-site, although it is still grown in East Anglia and processed by Boortmalt just a couple of miles away. Dried hops now arrive in 'pelleted' form, only one single strain of yeast is now used, and assorted natural flavouring agents are blended in to produce the increasing range of seasonal and commemorative ales. However, despite the growing supermarket trade, the vast majority of beer produced at Bury St Edmunds still leaves in casks rather than kegs or bottles, and is therefore a product with a very short shelf-life. If nothing else, you have to admire the logisitics and expertise in producing such huge quantities and getting them into pubs around the country with such tight deadlines.

I have to admit to always having been an Adnams drinker myself, with Woodfordes perhaps being a close second choice, yet I have always enjoyed a pint of Abbot. Perhaps, like many CamRA (Campaign for Real Ale) purists, I am being unreasonable in my suspicions about Greene King's expansionist and acquisition-led reputation. We are, after all, lucky in having no shortage of independent micro-breweries springing up to guarantee a genuinely wide choice of  original ales and beers.

I certainly enjoyed my tour, including the 100+ steps climb up onto the rooftop of the brew house, taking in the views and the delicious aromas along the way, but relished the tastings at the end even more. We are initially given samples of Abbot Ale, Old Speckled Hen, and Green King IPA to sample, but I also manage to quaff eight or nine other brews before finally staggering out into the late afternoon sunshine. One of the most unusual was Purple Reign, not a tribute to the musician Prince, but a fruity brew in celebration of the Queen's ninetieth birthday. No matter what you think of Greene King, if you are a beer drinker you will find this guided tour and its refreshing conclusion a fascinating couple of hours.

And so it is off to The Apex for tonight's concert. Obviously I have to leave my car where it is, but a little tip for anyone attending future evening events at The Apex -  all on-street car parking in Bury St Edmunds town centre appears to be permit holders only, but these restrictions end at 6.00pm from Monday to Saturday. It should not be difficult to find somewhere free to park within easy walking distance of the venue. Alternatively, most of the pay-and-display car parks appear to charge a flat-rate fee of £1 after this time.

Rita Coolidge at The Apex

Rita Coolidge's most successful years were probably during the 1970's, starting with her eponymous debut album in 1971. She started off as a backing singer for US act Delaney & Bonnie, but also sang with everyone from Bob Dylan to Eric Clapton. In 1973 she married Kris Kristofferson, and the pair released several albums together. At a time when glamorous pop stars were still something of a novelty, Coolidge became one of only a handful of female artists to be celebrated in poster form, her long hair and striking features becoming almost as well-known than her music thanks to Athena, and a generation of teenage boys too old for Cilla Black. That was soon to change. Debbie Harry, Kate Bush and even Olivia Newton-John were soon to change the landscape of testosterone-tinged bedroom walls for ever.

I was fifteen at the time, and whilst I knew of Coolidge my own  musical tastes lay more with Top 40 bands like T.Rex and Slade, or prog-rock acts like Led Zeppelin, Emerson lake and Palmer, and Genesis. American folk and country music hardly hit my radar at all. That would come much later.

Meanwhile Coolidge's reputation as a Stateside rock-chick was not harmed in any way by stories of romantic liaisons with the likes of Graham Nash, Stephen Stills and Leon Russell. She was almost the Sheryl Crow of her day, mixing and touring as a female musician in a male-dominated world. Luckily, this UK tour coincides with the release of her autobiography, Delta Lady, published by Harper Collins, in which she promises to reveal all about her turbulent life, and chronicling her rise to fame. Not surprisingly, a notice in the foyer of The Apex informs us that Rita will be signing copies of the book after tonight's performance.

The interior of The Apex is, as you would expect, bright and modern. It has removable seating downstairs for 500, with further seats around the balconies. It is all a bit IKEA in style - lots of polished light wood and aluminium rails, but the seats are surprisingly comfortable, with plenty of leg room. Late-comers can easily squeeze past without the yo-yos up and down before the start and during the interval. It is by no means sold out tonight, which is a bit of a shame as it leaves the auditorium feeling slightly reverberant, with audience chatter echoing off the walls in a slightly hollow manner.

Support comes from a bearded grey gentleman in a flat cap with a guitar, who looks a bit like a retired farmer. It turns out that Ian Brown (no, not that one) comes from Hampshire, and for fourteen years he did indeed milk cows, farm pigs, and grow corn. He then turned to songwriting and music management in 2000. I cannot say that I am that impressed by his repertoire of self-written folk ditties, but have to respect the fact that in his time he has written songs for the likes of Jason Donovan and Pixie Lott. He wrote a follow up single for Sinitta, intended for release after So Macho and Toy Boy, but her then manager (a certain Simon Cowell) went bankrupt before it could be recorded. But his biggest claim to fame appears to be the Ivor Novello songwriting award which he won for Sandi Thom's big hit in 2007, I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker (With Flowers in my Hair). Now it all makes sense. I always hated that song.

Rita Coolidge is announced on stage by a member of her own band, and walks on to warm applause. She is looking good for 71 years old, elegantly dressed and wearing high heeled shoes. Her hair is still long and straight, but a shade lighter than most photographs suggest. Heaven help me if it is a wig. She compliments the auditorium, but I guess is slightly surprised to see so many empty seats, and is obviously more used to the exuberance of American audiences. For the first couple of songs she seems to be struggling to get the sound just right with her radio mic, and is constantly alternating between 'muffled boomy' and 'slightly too quiet'. She pops a mint into her mouth between songs, and regales us with tasty snippets from anecdotes and experiences of people she has met and worked with over the years - and mentions that book a couple of times, and the fact that she will be signing copies afterwards.

The band is competent, but not exceptional, although it transpires that the guitarist and backing vocalist is none other than Hamish Stuart (he of The Average White Band fame). The setlist covers many of the legends of Americana - Ry Cooder's Tattler, Kris Kristofferson's Late Again and Bob Dylan's I'll Be Your Baby Tonight, along with songs that I am more familiar with - Delaney & Bonnie's Superstar, and the duet Loving Arms (originally recorded with ex-husband Kris Kristofferson).

There are covers of Ann Peebles' I Can't Stand The Rain, The Temptations' The Way You Do The Things You Do, and a velvety-smooth version of Peggy Lee's Fever, but it is the Cherokee version of Amazing Grace that really raises the bar emotionally. She explains to us the story of the enforced re-settlement of native American tribes in the 19th century, and the subsequent 'Trail of Tears'. Coolidge claims Cherokee lineage, and from my third-row seat those tears in her eyes look genuine enough as she sings what has since become adopted as the Cherokee national anthem.

Ultimately, though, the 'hairs-on-the-back-of-the-neck' moments are reserved for the twin highlights that are the pair of her biggest solo hits, (Your Love Has Lifted Me) Higher, and the first-dance wedding perennial I'd Rather Leave While I'm In Love. Call me a sentimental, if cynical, old softy, but this is what I and many others have come out tonight to hear. Legendary songs performed by a legendary singer, whilst we still can. As I said to someone before I came out for this gig, 'It's a long time since I have paid to watch someone perform who is actually older than myself''. It is not just me that isn't getting any younger.

I don't hang around for the book signing, or to try and snatch a 'selfie'. I find that whole side of things so undignified. For a first night in a strange country it's not been a bad show. It's just that the audience has been a bit non-committal for a star of her standing. Hopefully later dates, including London's Cadogan Hall, will be more appreciative.

 Instead, I head back to the car, and my fifty minute drive back to Norwich.

In the timeless words of Wallace & Grommitt, "It's been a grand day out".

Visit Bury St Edmunds - http://www.visit-burystedmunds.co.uk/tourist-information.html

Visit St Edmundsbury Cathedral - http://www.stedscathedral.co.uk/

Visit Greene King Brewery - https://www.greenekingshop.co.uk/brewery-tours/

What's on at The Apex - https://www.theapex.co.uk/

Ian W Brown website - http://www.ianwbrown.com/

Rita Coolidge website - http://www.ritacoolidge.net/

A Day at Cheltenham Races, with Ellenborough Park, Essilor Crizal, and The Daily Telegraph

It has to be said that many folk in Norwich would struggle to accurately point out to where they think Cheltenham lies on a map of the United Kingdom, and possibly vice versa. Not only are the two towns separated by a distance of just over 180 miles, but to drive from one to the other involves an heroic cross-country route that even my sat-nav argued over, and that was before an accident on the M6 further muddied the spa waters.

 I have stopped off in Cheltenham several times over the years - during my childhood it traditionally provided the overnight stopover on the annual family holiday to the Gower peninsula in South Wales, and in 1997 La Maman and I took our own children for a half-term break in the Cotswolds. So it was a lovely surprise when, a few weeks back, a young lady at The Daily Telegraph telephoned to say that I had won a two night break in Cheltenham, plus hospitality tickets for the November race meet, courtesy of Essilor Crizal lenses.

Ellenborough Park

The accommodation had been booked at Ellenborough Park, a magnificent former manor house, built of local stone and in parts dating back to the 15th century. Formerly known as Southam House, it has since been extended and refurbished, and commands panoramic views over Cheltenham racecourse. I would be staying here, on a bed and breakfast basis, for the Thursday and Friday night, and attending the races on the Friday. This left me with time after the drive down on the Thursday to explore the town of Cheltenham.

I decided to make an early start. The AA Route Planner estimated a four-hour journey time, and a route that would take me past Birmingham before dropping down on the M5 toward the West Country. Unfortunately, it soon became clear from the gantry messaging on the A14 that the route past Coventry was affected by severe delays due to an accident, and so it was a slightly longer, but much more picturesque route that eventually saw me taking the A429 through the Cotswold towns of Moreton-in-Marsh and Stow-on-the-Wold before arriving in Cheltenham in the early afternoon.

Cheltenham
By parking on the London Road close to Sandwell Park not only was I spared any parking charges, but I was also able to take the comfortable stroll into the town centre, admiring the many Regency style houses en route. It would have been very easy simply to stop off in the town centre and spend all my time exploring the shops - there are two malls in addition to the main High Street, but apart from a necessity stop in Office to purchase a new pair of shoes (in my rush to leave I had forgotten to pack anything other than my battered driving casuals), I refrained from all other retailing opportunities and concentrated instead on the Montpellier and Lansdown areas where the most impressive Regency terraces were to be found. This also allowed time to search out the historic Cheltenham Ladies College buildings, St Mary's Church and the Royal Crescent and Promenade.

In addition, the Wilson Art Gallery and Museum houses a fascinating collection of artifacts representative of the Arts and Crafts movement popularised by the likes of William Morris. There is also a programme of temporary exhibitions. I was able to take in 'Portraits of an Icon', a collection of photographs of Audrey Hepburn on loan from the National Portrait Gallery, and three themed video installations by American artist Bill Viola, part of the touring 'Artist Rooms' project funded by Arts Council England.

The Wilson Art Gallery and Museum

Other sights worth seeking out in the town include the famous Neptune fountain, and the statue of Edward Wilson, the Cheltenham-born  Antarctic explorer, and colleague of Captain Scott. A slightly more quirky piece of sculpture is Sophie Ryder's 'Minotaur and Hare' in Cheltenham Promenade, cast in 1995 and aquired by public subscription in 1998.

Statue of Edward Wilson

Sophie Ryder's 'Minotaur and Hare'

There are still Big Issue sellers and Poundland stores, but the Regency grandeur still remains, though you may have to leave the High Street and head for the Lansdown district to see evidence of the real money and the multi-million pound mansions. The multitude of expensive women's bicycles (complete with shiny bells and wicker baskets) show how the influence of the Ladies College pervades the town with the air of an aspirational  Tinder box.

Cheltenham Ladies College (main entrance)

Ellenborough Park 
Those who know me are familiar with my usual choice of overnight resting places. Sometimes I don't even make it as far as a hotel, saving money instead by pulling over at the side of the road and sleeping in my van. Otherwise, careful trawling through websites like Hotels.com will throw up somewhere both suitable and within budget. Not that I haven't ever sampled a better class of accommodation - only a few weeks ago I was put up in a veritable hanger of a room following my son's wedding in Surrey, and during a brief spell as an area manager for a large chain of chemist shops we would be treated to various corporate 'jollys', staying in middle-management business hotels complete with Bronnley toiletries and Corby trouser presses. Ellenborough Park, though, was an entirely different ball game.

Even as I drove up the twisting drive to the car park it struck me that it was probably a while since another Toyota Aygos had pulled up here. The preferred set of wheels appeared to be Range Rover, Mercedes, Porsche or Bentley. As soon as I had carried my suitcase, briefcase and shoulder bag into reception my entire luggage was immediately whisked off to my room by the porter, leaving me unable to even provide a credit card with which to set up my room account. My Tesco Mastercard was secreted within my O'Neill black fabric wallet, which in turn was tucked away, backpacker style, in one of the secret security pockets of my Eastpak manbag. It should of course, as any gentleman would have you know, have been in the breast pocket of my sports jacket, in the company of crisp five pound notes with which to administer gratuities at each appropriate opportunity.

However, please let the record show that all the staff at Ellenborough Park were, without exception, incredibly welcoming and accommodating towards me. Not once was I made to feel any awkwardness, nor did I have to ride the clumsy embarrassment of expectant palms. From the initial guided tour to their genuine concordance upon my checking out, the friendliness and concern for my well-being was absolutely tip-top and second to none.

I did not get to use the spa or the fitness room during my stay. The outdoor swimming pool was heated and ready for use, and was only a couple of paces from the terrace of my ground floor room. However it did not get to experience the launch of my bulky form, 'Home Alone' style, via the Auckland Bomb. To be honest, after my drive down from Norwich and an afternoon of exploration I was more than happy to luxuriate in the enormous free-standing bath, nestle into the softness of the fluffy dressing gown, and enjoy some crap TV on a gargantuan high-definition television set  that resided behind the leaded windows of a full-height dresser.

Breakfast was served in the paneled splendour of the Beaufort Dining Room, and was a most satisfactory affair - a chance to peruse the complimentary newspaper, and run through the form for the day's racing whilst enjoying fresh coffee, croissants, toast and cereals, and all topped off with a Cotswold Special - a cooked breakfast to end all cooked breakfasts, a gorgeous mélange of black puddings, sausages, bacon and eggs. Sorry to be a tad tacky on this one, but this was my chance to stoke up for the day ahead, and with local fare this good, why not?

Thank you to everyone who together made me feel so welcome at Ellenborough Park. I would love to return at some stage, to use the fitness and spa facilities, and to take full advantage of the boot room and its regimental array of waxed jackets and boots lined up ready for an Autumnal yomp into the surrounding Cotswold Hills. I felt thoroughly spoiled. Somehow, the Travelodge will never feel quite the same ever again.

Cheltenham Races
Another first for me. As well as the hotel accommodation, the prize from Essilor Crizal included hospitality passes for a day's racing, with lunch in the ominously named Final Fence Restaurant, steeplechasing's equivalent of golf's 19th hole?

The Open is a three day meeting held in November, and my passes were for the Countryside Day, the first day of the meet. There were six races on the card, starting with the Paddy Power Handicap Chase at 1.05pm. The lunch was to be served at 12.30 but, as I wanted to get close to all the action and the atmosphere, I decided to forego the hospitality in the interest of learning as much as I could about the racing. Besides, whilst I was quite happy to eat on my own at the hotel, I felt slightly out of my comfort zone entering the world of corporate hospitality without a wing man. Besides, there was loads of other shizz going on that I really didn't want to miss.

Ellenborough Park, viewed from Cheltenham Racecourse

Even though Ellenborough Park is on the original Cheltenham Racecourse estate, and the hotel even offers courtesy transport door-to-door, I still decided to use my red parking pass and drive down. I was not going to be drinking, and I always feel more in control when I have my own wheels. I was therefore queued up by the Club/Tattersalls entrance before the gates opened at 10.30am. Once again, the trusty Aygo seemed a little overawed and overshadowed by the Range Rovers and SUV's favoured by the tweed and corduroy set around me. I had my trusty green trilby and navy twill trousers, topped with a waterproof navy blue jacket, so the Norfolk boy kind of blended in, and it was refreshingly rural to see so many people wearing hats or caps - a bit like one of those black and white newsreel films of pre-war FA Cup finals. The ladies, too, certainly favoured their tweeds, although fur hats also appeared de rigeur.

Not quite knowing what to expect, I spent the morning watching the paddock parade of stallions organised by the Thoroughbred Breeders Association. Beautiful creatures, although at upwards of £2000 a pop, their stud services don't come cheap.

After the stallions came the lively knockabout double-act of Charlotte Dujardin and AP McCoy, as Charlotte gave AP a dressage lesson with two of her horses, whilst providing an entertaining commentary and scoring points at AP's expense. To be fair, when one considers the completely different skill sets involved in horse racing compared with dressage, it certainly illustrated just how good a horseman the Irish jockey really is. Later in the day we are able to catch AP again, whilst signing copies of his autobiography.

And as if this wasn't enough excitement before the racing proper got under way, we had Princess Anne standing just above us on the balcony of the new Princess Royal Stand performing the official opening ceremony.

And so to the races themselves. Adopting a prudent policy of sticking to a maximum of £10 to win on each of the six races on the card, I started badly when the favourite La Vaticane ridden by Tom Scudamore (son of champion jockey Peter Scudamore) only managed to come in fourth, although the unforgettable sight of fifteen horses charging up the hill on the final lap towards the winning post was so much more exciting than it ever looks on television.

I did better in the second race when Jonjo O'Neil's horse More of That came in at short odds of 7-4, but cancelled out my losses on the first race. Backing the favourite again, this time Penglai Pavillion, in the 2.15 proved to be a mistake when it came in third out of four runners, and my choice of Loose Chips (picked because of The Son's job in highways maintenance) at 14-1 was at best fanciful.

So, after being entertained by the beagle hounds and the riders of the local hunts with a parade between the second and third races, and given a slightly one-sided commentary by a member of The Countryside Alliance, I needed to pull something out of the last two races to avoid going home nursing a £40 loss on the day.

Fortunately, A Hare Breath, once again chosen for its name rather than for being favourite (brother in law loves taking photographs of hares), beat a field of twenty runners and came in at 6-1, and I resisted the urge to be reckless and stake all my winnings on the last race. Which in one way was a shame, as my horse Knock House actually won as joint favourite with odds of  9-2. If only I'd had the courage of my conviction to stake my entire balance of £70. As it was, I sensibly stuck down a tenner, collected £45 in winnings, and added it to the £60 I won in the race before, leaving me just over £100 up on the day.

So, after another lovely evening at Ellenborough Park, and a second night sleeping soundly in my cossetting Hypnos bed, I checked out on the Saturday morning and bid farewell to Cheltenham and the Cotswolds for the time being.

It was time to drive back up to London to meet up with my daughter in Kilburn, and buy her dinner at the North London Tavern with my winnings. Thank you once again to Ellenborough Park, Essilor Crizal, and The Daily Telegraph, for my prize, and to The Jockey Club for a lovely day's racing at Cheltenham.

To check out Ellenborough Park for a Cotswold break, go to their website at http://www.ellenboroughpark.com/

For details of this Winter's racing calendar at Cheltenham go to http://cheltenham.thejockeyclub.co.uk/

For information of other things to see and do in Cheltenham, check out http://www.visitcheltenham.com/