Ladies Day

Join our horse racing virgin as she bets her way across meets in France, Spain and Italy.

Galloping between fixtures in France, Italy and Spain, horse racing virgin Heidi Fuller-love learns all about the courses, customs and how to pick a winner!

Mid-morning…

MUST BE FRANCE
Divot stompers romp over the pitch like Tasmanian devils repairing the damage from the last race, while a pint-sized jockey debates the odds with a buck-toothed broad who’s drinking Champagne from a stirrup cup.

For the folk here at Longchamp its just another day at the races, but for a duffer like me who couldn’t tell a hockey boot from a jockstrap it’s all a bit nerve wracking. Especially as the track – launched by Emperor Napoleon III, lovingly depicted by Degas, then used as a backdrop by U2 during their Joshua Tree tour – is packed with stylish hats and sharp suits, substantiating the observations of social anthropologist Kate Fox, author of The Racing Tribe: Watching the Horsewatchers, who says “racing is the last bastion of old-fashioned chivalry… and highly exhibitionist dressing”.

Silly old moi (who thought racing was the last bastion of muddy fields and anoraks) looks sharp as custard in a full-length rain mac and a pair of mum’s welly boots.

Pretty as an impressionist picture in hot spring sunshine, the grassy field studded with shady trees and refreshment tents stretches enticingly to the racetrack. Unfortunately, the racing friend who brought me says it’s too early to be gasping for a drink. “We gotta get the lowdown on the horses – get their numbers so we can identify them on the course,” he lisps, Cagney-style, as he drags me over to the “rond de présentation”, a circular pen packed with pintsized grooms and frighteningly tall horses.

I fancy a flutter, so I concentrate as he explains that here – as in most European countries – the betting is “pari-mutuel”, a system dreamt up in 1865 by Frenchman Pierre Oller, which means gamblers’ money is pooled and shared proportionally among the winners once a tax deduction, “the takeout”, has been made.

It’s a frightening lot of information to assimilate when you’re about to part with hard-earned cash, and it takes me a while to figure out whether to bet gagnant (to win), jumelé gagnant (one to win and one to place), or just placé (you win whether your nag comes first or second).

Before placing our bets, we consult a huge overhead screen, a bit like an airport departures board. The pixel board shows the time of day, race number, finishing positions of horses in the previous race and a “penetrometer reading”, which sounds interestingly obscene but turns out to be a boring old measure that tells you if the track is hard or soft. Racing pal tells me there are horses that race better on dry ground and others that do better on muddy ground – known as “the going”.

“Going, going, gone,” I joke, and by the end of the day, so has all my cash.

HIPPODROME DE LONGCHAMP, ROUTE DES TRIBUNES, PARIS, TEL: +33 (0)14 430 7500, WWW.FRANCE-GALOP.COM
Fly to PARIS (BEAUVAIS) from 21 destinations, including Venice (Treviso). Visit www.ryanair.com for more information.

Lunchtime…

HAS TO BE ITALY
Having learned my lesson at Longchamp, I’m dolled up like a blonde Bond cocktail for the Ippodromo Martini, a half-hour drive south of Ancona, only to find myself in a crowd of rain macs and wellies. Typical.

No other country has done more for the development of gambling than Italy – baccarat and bingo were devised here and the world’s first casino saw the light of day in Venice in 1726. I’m astounded, therefore, to see such a small crowd at the Martini hippodrome.

“The Italians prefer soccer, as the takeout is so high on horse racing,” the track steward tells me. The first up is a flat race on the outer track at 3pm, followed by a jump race at 3.30pm, and so on for five more races. I plan to bet on any horse that looks cute, but my friend coaxes me gently through the “proper” betting procedure.

We pore over the race card, telling us all about the “form” of the horses – the races it has been placed in and its suitability to the course – as well as their jockeys and trainers. It also acts, says writer Fox, as a “passport to conversation with strangers, a prop in social interaction among acquaintances, a chat-up device… and a badge showing affiliation to the racing tribe”.

However, since neither of us can read Italian we’re stumped. Luckily, a trainer who knows my friend tells us that a five-year-old called Frilly Frock is “a lock”, or sure winner. We rush to scrutinise the odds given on another screen – the “tote board” – put all our money with the bookmaker, who gives us the best price, then sit back and watch Frilly Frock fall at the first fence.

“Everyone knows tipped horses never win,” my friend says. Thanks for telling me, mate!

IPPODROMO MARTINI, 197 VIA FONT’ORSOLA, CORRIDONIA, TEL: +39 733 434 300, WWW.IPPODROMOMARTINI.IT
Fly to ANCONA from Düsseldorf (Weeze) and London (Stansted). Visit www.ryanair.com for more information.

Early evening…

GOT TO BE SPAIN
Packed with a curious mix of swarthy Gitano horse-trainers and pale-skinned Brits perched on shooting sticks, sartorial style is not an issue at Hipodromo Costa del Sol near Malaga. Dubbed Newmarket-in-the-sun by the horsey crowd, the big advantage of this five-star course is the climate. When tracks close elsewhere, the owners bring their horses over to the balmy Costa del Sol and continue racing throughout the winter months.

In a country where breakfast is at 11am and restaurants don’t start serving dinner until 9pm, it’s no surprise that the races start late. At 8pm, the vast grandstands overlooking the two tracks of the Hipodromo Costa del Sol are half empty, but by the time the floodlighting comes on at 10pm, the place is packed to the rafters.

My friend has spent hours on racing websites like www.bloodhorse.com and www.timeform.com before the race. He has studied the track records of his favourite horses and riders, he knows the wind conditions and he’s even consulted the penetrometer before placing his bet. I choose my trusty steed because it gives a small buck – known in racing slang as “a bunny hop” – on its way around the showing ring. I’ve been told this means it’s in fine fettle. The bell rings, the horses bolt from their boxes, the crowd bellows “gerronyar” in several different languages and my horse gallops in a head in front of all the others. Whoopee I’m in the money!

“There’s a golden rule of horse racing,” says my friend. “The person with the winning bet buys all the drinks.”

I take it on the chin. After all, in the words of horse-racing software creator Charles Carroll (Speed Handicapper, www.desertsea.com), “a profit at the race track isn’t a profit until you spend it somewhere else”.

HIPODROMO COSTA DEL SOL, EL CHAPARRAL, MIJAS, TEL: +34 952 592 715, WWW.HIPODROMOCOSTADELSOL.ES
Fly to MALAGA from 14 destinations, including Birmingham and Liverpool. Visit www.ryanair.com for more information.

Horses on other courses

Where to watch

• CHELTENHAM, UK
From 10-13 March one of the UK’s most anticipated race meets occurs – the Cheltenham Festival. For four days, over 200,000 people will witness 26 races with total prize money of £3.67m, an average of £141,000 for each Festival race. For more info visit www.cheltenham.co.uk.
• JEREZ, SPAIN
The Chapin racetrack (tel: +34 956 342 131) to the east of Jerez held the World Equestrian Games in 2002. Visit in August, for the annual race held on the sandy beaches of Sanlúcar de Barrameda (www.turismosanlucar.com), now an international event with many star guests.

Etiquette tips
(or ways to avoid a knuckle sandwich)
• Never collect your winnings ahead of those queuing to bet.
• Never pay with lots of coins when there’s only seconds left for people waiting in line.
• Never boast about your winnings.
• Never wind someone up about that “sure-fire bet” that came in last.