For those whose only previous experience of Salisbury Cathedral was through the eyes of Constable, today provided a rather different view, with dark skies and threatening thunder clouds more reminiscent of Turner. Having negotiated our way through the Wallops, Nether and otherwise, we finally reached Netherhampton, on the fringes of Salisbury Plain, and a scene typical of England's 'green and pleasant land' although Blake obviously omitted mentioning the biting, blustery winds.

The 'straight' mile at Sailsbury Race Course stretches out of sight into the distant trees, with a loop at the top for longer races. I was accompanied today by Dennis, my nephew and one of the Guild's newest members, and it did not take us long to locate the other members of TRG's flock in the Owners & Trainers Bar. Not that we were numerous today, with Diane, Sandra and Kirby squared absent from the normal flock. Whilst Guilders in Holland had been replaced by Euros, their English brethren are very much alive and regularly make their presence felt on the racecourse circuit. Although, with such a motley crew I am forced to wonder what the collective name for Guilders should be... One can hardly have a swathe of Guilders when there are but five of us; a drunken ship of Guilders, perhaps (particularly when the Fake Sheik is present), although isn't that just a load of old cobblers? Considering the precision with which we managed to select non-winners in the absence of the aforementioned experts (Dianne, Sandra and Jackie), perhaps we should be considered a sequitur... I'll leave it to the academics to decide, but one thing is certain, today's congregation was no bevy of Guilders!

Okay, so between the five of us we managed to pick out a grand total of two winners from the seven races. Impressive, eh? But the best was yet to come, as we finally made our way to the parade ring prior to the sixth race and Muffin's much-awaited appearance. One thing that was immediately obvious was that he was much calmer today - those who were at Folkestone a few weeks ago will remember him rearing and trying to deposit Fergus over the parade ring barrier.

The first thing for us to do, of course, was to give Fergus some stick for riding the winner in Molly's race on Monday, which was all taken in very good humor. Then it was down to business - Stuart was very happy with Muffin's preparation and both Stuart and Fergus were delighted with the draw, in the very last stall against the rail on the inside of the dog-leg on the 'straight' course.

Then there was just time to deposit our wedges with the bookies - George the Third was favourite at 4-1 and Muffin was second in the market at around 13-2. Dennis and Dave were both confident enough to plonk there dough down at the 'win' window, while Kirky, Hoggie and myself opted for the more cautious E/W option, and then we were off....

Muffin came out of the stalls well and settled in third or fourth place, ideally placed against the rail. They came around the dog-leg and into the straight about 3f out with two horses immediately in front of us. Fergus bought him off the rail and about 2f out a gap between the two horses ahead opened and he caharged through it to take the lead approaching the last furlong. The race was there for the taking and Fergus put his foot on the accelerator... Muffin, looked up at him, shook his head and said 'Not today, mate, I'm just not in the mood.' We watched as three 20-1 donkeys came through to beat him to the line while he did just enough to hold off the more favoured competition and claim fourth place.

In the unsaddling enclosure afterwards, Muffin had hardly broken into a sweat. Fergus was dumbfounded, observing that they had run a perfect race up until the final stage, but when he called for a final effort expecting to take 2-3 lengths out of the field Muffin simply did not respond. Stuart's comment was that he seemed to 'be saving something for himself'.

All very disappointing, having reached a winning position in what had looked beforehand to be quite a strong race compared with his previous outings. Now we wait to hear from Stuart whether Muffin just had an off day or whether something needs to be done to coax an extra effort out of him towards the end of his races.

To complete a disappointing afternoon, Dave and myself were then gullible enough to back Pink Bay in the last, only to watch it wander home behind all but one of the other 12 horses in its field.

But will we all be back again the next time Molly and Muffin line up? Of course, we wouldn't miss it. Isn't that what being a Guilder is all about?

See you all next time.

Marc