Watchtower No. 3 "Foyne Haven."
...Back "in the Day" (the 60's), the GRAND NATIONAL of the U.K. (like the Kentucy Derby/BIG horse race thing...) -the best of the best, horses AND jockeys, lined up at the starting post, all respendent............ The Queen (QE2), rich Arab sheiks, business cats, men of power, all gathered: the stakes were high!............. Out of all these pedigrees, full of blue-blood razzamatazz and Thorsten Veblens "Conspicuous Consumption"......poor old FOYNE HAVEN (the horse) had to be carried on a stretcher to the course's starting post............. FOYNE HAVEN's Jockey (the rider) also had to be alerted that the "race" (the GRANDE NATIONAL) was about to begin....... Irish fella, I believe. Wrote Poetry in his spare time. Unshaven. Chain smoking, and knocking back Single Malts in the Clubhouse.......... Anyways, they got his Ass OUT of the bar, told him NOT to chain smoke whilst "in the saddle" ("It's being TELEVISED, for chrissakes!?"), and?... And DON'T whip poor ol' FOYNE HAVEN too much as FOYNE HAVEN - getting along in years - is a tad sensitive and/OR unlikely to respond WITH SPEED in any case?...
So. BADDABOOM. The Starting pistol is fired. The race begins. ALL the "thoroughbreds" (the horses) zoom off down the track/race course.
Ol' FOYNE HAVEN? He...he kind'a circles at the Starting Post for a minute. The JOCKEY? (the rider) Him?... He has a last drag on a "funny cigarette" then prods his mount (FOYNE HAVEN) to get on after all his fellow equestrian kin...who are by now a thousand away!
And so it goes.
The GRAND NATIONAL course (race track) is punctuated with rather high hedge-like hurdles. The horses have to gallop then LEAP over these fences/hedge-obstacles, then again gallop and repeat the exercise.
It's, actually, a tiresome affair and from the spectators point of view - unless you're a betting man or totally drunk on Rum from Trinidad - a Mathmatically inane proposition.
The "gristle", of course, is the Betting. Everyone, even Grannie Smith, puts a bet on just which horse will win the race. Big money. A Lotto!...... Anyways; Starting Pistol! POOF!, The Race begins, ALL the "thoroughbreds" (fast horses) bugger off down the track. FOYNE HAVEN, as I say; stumbles around a bit. His Jockey - wearing shades and taking a LAST "toke" on his "funny cigarette" - finally gets going and together they go in search of the "thoroughbreds".... Meantime? The RACE is ON! It's fierce. Money/horse flesh at stake. Stud fees. ALL THAT stuff. It's a hot day, too. The crowd is goin' nuts. It's like a Soccer game in Brazil or Argentina! The Queen (QE2), the Arab Sheiks, the bigshots in business? They? They've all shed their dignity. The heat, the sweat, the pounding hoofs, the LASH of the jockey's whip? God! It's almost sexual!!!!
...........About 2 hurdles short of the race's Finishing Post, ALL the "thoroughbreds", shoulder to shoulder, packed together like Wolves; they collide, brutally, whilst taking a hurdle...... Man o'man! It's Equestrian carnage. Broken limbs. Blood. The wild neighing of horses. Jockeys - who are not especially articulate - crying: "FUCK, OH FUCK! FUCK! OH, FUCK!"..... Most of these "thoroughbreds" have to be "put down". Their riders (the Jockeys) are quickly hospitalized, though some of their number elect to go into an insane asylum......
Meanwhile, poor ol' FOYNE HAVEN and his hapless - now, completely stoned - Jockey-fella come clunking along; pausing, incidentally, at EVERY hurdles-fence jump thingy BEFORE actuallty jumping it. But along they come, clunking along 5 minutes after the "thoroughbred" debacle.....
If my memory serves me well, I think both FOYNE HAVEN and his rider gave the adavance carnage a brief look then proceeded to go on and - wheezing! - cross the finishing line.
This particular GRAND NATIONAL (Horse race thingy) I recall because I had an Aunt in Sheffield, England - long since passed - who actually betted on FOYNE HAVEN and won a bunch of money. She was, like me, a bit of a Gypsy 'cept SHE could/would read your Future from the array of leftover tea leaves in your tea cup..........
Did she forsee the outcome of the Grand National????
Oh yeah.
............................c 2012/davedelacroix/lord borgo/Augusto/piacenza/Italia
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