Peter Gormely

Peter Gormley

Peter was a stable lad and aspiring jockey in the 50s.

In his own words, he tells his story below.

I was born on March 24, 1936, in the mining village of Valleyfield.

My earliest memories of being interested in horse racing were from around nine or ten years of age.

My Dad liked having a bet, and I started reading the paper he used, the Sporting Chronicle. I liked the racing photos and also the stories about the jockeys.

Sometimes, when there was a big race, it would be broadcast on the radio: I loved listening to the commentaries of Raymond Glendenning.  

Later on, when I was about 14 tears old, I started thinking about going to a race meeting. I had an uncle who worked at Hamilton Park on the number boards (where they put up the horse numbers and jockeys names). I never knew he worked there, and when he heard I was interested in the horses, he invited me to visit him when the next meeting was on and he would take me to the course.

This became a regular treat.

Luckily, his work place was the paddock. He would sneak me in well before racing started while nobody was around, then I would stay with my uncle and a couple of his colleagues in their little shed behind the grandstand, and mingle with the crowds when they came in.

The first day at a race meeting was really awesome for me. I was able to watch all the lovely horses parading and seeing a lot of the famous jockeys I had read about. And seeing the racing live, instead of just hearing it on the radio (we had no T.V. then). I think I was hooked on racing after that.

I got some famous jockeys' autographs as well: the first ones were Willie Snaith, Ron Bradley and Jack Egan. Later on I got Willie Nevett, Joe Sime, Eph Smith and many others.

One day at the races, I plucked up the courage to speak to some of the trainers asking how I could get a job in a racing stable. I expected them to brush me off as an annoying kid, but they were very nice to me. However, they said I would have to wait until I left school, then get in touch with them again.

I spoke to Jack Fawcus, Colonel Wilf Lyde and Harvey Peacock, who even gave me his autograph and a shilling for good luck, he said.

On leaving school at 15, I inevitably finished up working at the local coal mine, which was the main source of employment in the area where I lived.

Along with some other school leavers, I was assigned to work at 'the tables', as they were called. I don't know why.

It was rows of conveyor belts, and our job was to pick out all the pieces of rock and other, non-coal, rubbish, before the coal fell into wagons at the end of the line. A lot of the time we were unable to keep up and they had to stop the conveyor belt until we cleared it. A horrible job.

All the time my mind was set on finding a stable where I could get a job as a stable lad.

My big break came when I saw an advert in the Sporting Chronicle for a book called 'Horses in Training'. It is a list of all the trainers, with addresses and phone numbers. I quickly sent off for a copy, together with a postal order for the cost (one shilling and sixpence. I think it costs a bit more than that nowadays).

When it arrived, I started trawling through the lists to see if there was a stable not too far from my home. 

Eventually I came across one that was only 25 miles away - six or seven miles across the Firth of Forth as the crow flies (but I am not a crow). It was where Mr J. Craig-Brown had his farm and stables (Bonnytoun Farm, Linlithgow).

Craig-Brown had been born in 1911 and had ridden in a number of point-to-points before 1938.

The following Sunday I wasted no time, and got my bike for a nice ride to Linlithgow. When I eventually arrived at the stables I was a bit nervous, wondering what to say.

Mr Brown was walking across the yard when I rode in, so I sheepishly started telling him about my wanting to work with horses.

After a cross-examination of myself and a long lecture on what working in a racing stable involved - long hours, hard work, dedication - I thought that's it, I have no chance.

However, Mr Brown could see how keen I was. He said there were no jobs going at present, but he took my name and address and said that when a job became available he would get in touch.

I set off on my return bike ride to Valleyfield thinking I wouldn't hear any more.

Some ten days later, I came home from work and my Dad said there was a letter from me from someone he didn't know. (He had opened my letter.)

I hadn't told him about my trip to Linlithgow.

The letter was from Mr Brown saying that if I was still up for it and it was alright with my parents, I could come over the following Sunday to start work on the Monday.

I was over the moon, but Dad wasn't best pleased. He said I was too young to be leaving home, but - after some humming and harring - he came round to it when seeing that I wasn't going to be too far from home.

He gave me his blessing so long as I sent him some good racing tips.

The following Sunday, in early August 1951, with my worldly belongings in a bag slung across the handlebars, I was on my way again to Linlithgow. (By the way, I had very gladly given in my notice at the colliery.)

When I arrived at the stables, another lad about the same age as me turned up. His parents had driven him up from Northampton.

We were introduced and I soon learned that he was a fully experienced horse rider, and was going to be riding for the stable as an amateur.

His name was Pat Morgan.

I thought to myself 'he is all ready to ride and I haven't even sat on a horse yet', but we soon became good friends and he would tell me stories about when he was at Cliff Beechener's yard.

After having a look around the yard and seeing the horses, we were then settled into our accommodation which was a timber bungalow type home near some farm workers cottages.

A lady, Mrs Cockburn, whose husband worked on the farm, was going to be looking after us.

Next morning, after a 7 a.m. rise, we met the rest of the stable staff. There were five more stable lads who lived in the town a short distance from the yard.

The head lad, Jimmy Reid, lived in one of the farm cottages. (Jimmy had a son about eight-years-old at that time, who had quite a good career as a jockey in the 1960s & 70s, and then a short career as a trainer - Roddy Reid.)

The stable jockey was Paddy Gomez, a typical Irishman, always ready with a good story or joke.

My first job was to learn how to muck out and clean the boxes and then how to groom the horses. By the end of the first week I was getting the hang of things, and was given two horses to look after, Wilcot Don, a novice chaser and an old veteran chaser, Blackford Hill.

Week two was when I first got on a horse. While the rest of the string went out on road exercise, head lad Jimmy led me round a small paddock on Blackford Hill. He was a quiet old thing, and I was quite enjoying it.

When we started to do some trotting, though, it took me quite a little while, but I soon got the hang of it.

After a week of that I was deemed okay to go out with the string, but only on a lead-rein being held by Jimmy riding alongside me.

Then the next week, I was able to go out with the string as normal without a leading rein.

We used to do about 90 minutes road work, walking and trotting.

It wasn't a big stable - about eighteen horses, mostly jumpers.

By the end of September, I was pretty much well used to the routine of a racing stable.

The normal daily exercise, the steady to fast gallops, the schooling. I loved watching it all. (I obviously wasn't ready to take part in the gallops or schooling yet, but I was taking it all in.)

The Perth meeting in late September was where some of the horses had their first run of the season. After that we had runners fairly regularly, mostly at the weekends.

When we had runners, there was a rota where the lads would take it in turn to go to a race meeting, which sometimes meant you wouldn't be taking your own horse.

That's why I missed out on leading up one of my horses when he won.

It was the Easter meeting Carlisle in 1952. The two horses I had now were Wilcot Don and a little hurdler named Jordan Treasure. (Blackford Hill had by now been retired.) Anyway, I couldn't go to Carlisle as I had just been to a meeting at Southwell just before Easter.

Paddy and I had just taken down two horses, Joyous Salute and Sterling Prince. Paddy had finished third on Joyous Salute and Sterling Prince had won, ridden by Major Guy Cunard.

Later, at Carlisle, my horse Wilcot Don was having his first run of the season, ridden by Paddy (Gomez). He won by a distance and I was over the moon.

Next time he ran, however was a day to remember. It was the annual Rothbury one-day meeting at the end of April.

Jimmy, who was also the travelling head lad, with another lad and myself, went down the day before the meeting as it was too far to travel on race day. My two horses were running, plus one other.

First up was my Jordan Treasure (with Pat Morgan riding). First time round on the tight little hurdle track they were nearer last than first, but when they reappeared they were ten lengths clear and won easily. I could hardly believe it! It was Jordan's first run ever.

I had lead him up, but Wilcot Don was in the next race, so the other lad had to lead him.

I thought it too good to be true for him to win as well, but, with Paddy riding, he followed up his previous Carlisle win by winning again in similar style.

I didn't have a penny on either of them, but I did alright with cash presents from the owners and the customary £5 to the groom from the winning jockeys.

It was soon the end of the season. In those days there was a two month break when most of the horses would be roughed off and given a good rest

We were kept busy sprucing up the yard and creosoting all the boxes. Also sometimes doing jobs on the farm.

I liked that. I got to drive the tractor at times.

By 1954 I was quite well experienced and full of confidence. I was looking forward to when and if I would have that first ride in a race.

There were a few changes in the yard as well, in staff and horses.

Three of the local lads had left and were replaced with lads from Ireland, and a few horses - ex Flat racers - had been bought at the sales.

A couple of the Irish lads already held a jockey's licence.

One of them was Johnny O'Hara, who had worked for Willie O'Grady, a top Irish trainer, at one time.

Johnny and I became very good friends. He was at Craig Brown's for about two years , but never managed a winner. However, when he moved on to John Barclay's stable at Lockerbie, his luck changed and he had a successful few years riding some really good horses along the way.

Also at that time in 1954 we had a new stable jockey. Paddy had retired by then and his position was taken over by his younger brother Frank Gomez. Frank was one of the top jockeys in Ireland then, and I was a little surprised at him joining a small stable over here. He had a good couple of years here before returning to Ireland. Later on he went to America and set up as a trainer in Florida. He went on to become a top trainer there, training multiple Grade 1 winners based at Calder Racecourse, and was inducted into Florida's Hall of Fame.

So towards the end of 1954 there was something else looming up for me in the near future.

National Service.

It was compulsory in those days. I had registered earlier in the year as you had to when you reached 18.

I'd had all the medicals (and passed) so was now waiting for my call-up papers.

Before joining up, I was a little concerned as to what my position would be at Bonnytoun when I finished me army life. There were a few more lads at the yard now and there would be competition for rides.

Apart from Frank and Pat, there were a couple of other lads who already had jockey licences.

I got talking to one of my new racing friends, John Cuddihy, about it. He was stable jockey to John Dixon at Wigton in Cumberland. He had worked at Craig Brown's previously before I arrived but often came back to visit family relations who worked on the farm.

On one of his visits we were talking about my imminent call-up.

He said that if I felt like moving on, there would be a position at his place when I'd finished my two years. John got me to have a word with Mr Dixon and he said that I would be welcome to come to his place when I was ready.

I had enjoyed every minute of my time at Bonnytoun, and was grateful to Craig for taking me on as he did and teaching me all the basics. He said that if I had a better chance of getting into race-riding by moving on elsewhere, it was the right thing to do.

Craig wished me all the best, which I appreciated.

Two weeks before Christmas, 1954, I received my marching orders. I was to report for enlistment in early January, so I had time for a very good Christmas and New Year.

On 5 January, 1955, I - along with about twenty other young lads - arrived at Norton Barracks, Worcester, to do basic training with the Worcester Regiment. This was to be for six weeks, then we would be transferred to Melton Mowbray to be in the R.A.V.C. (veterinary corps).

On that first day there were four Scottish lads, myself and three others. One of them, who was from Clydebank, was also a racing man. I thought, great - we can talk racing as much as we like (as racing guys do when they get together).

His name was Tommy McGinley (he later became a bit of a legend in Australia).

He was more fully experienced in racing than I was, and had been apprenticed to Jeremy Tree. His claim to fame up to then and of which he was quite chuffed about was that he had finished second in an apprentice race at Ascot (not the Royal meeting).

After six strenuous weeks of square bashing, route marches and rifle range training, we had a week's home leave. Then we were transferred to Melton Mowbray, which is where the R.A.V.C. headquarters were. 

They had a section for dogs - mainly guard dogs and some sniffer dogs.

There was also a section for horses, mainly for ceremonial occasions. They also had a couple of point-to-pointers.

At the interview when first registering for the army, I was asked which regiment or department I would like to join. Assuming there would be a good chance of getting into the horse section, I chose the R.A.V.C. as I had already worked with horses.

Tom and the other lads must have thought the same way, but it transpired that if you want to work with horses in the army, you have to be a long-term career officer, not just a national serviceman.

We were assigned to the dog section. What a letdown!

We were told that we would do a six-week dog handlers course at the end of which I would have two weeks' embarkation leave before being posted to various overseas destinations to serve the remainder of our sentence (A.K.A. National Service).

At the and of the course and a few days before we went on leave, the postings were listed on the regimental notice board. There were three groups of six: one for Cyprus, one for Cyrenaica in Libya and the other for Singapore. Tommy and I were in the group for Singapore, and we were over the moon. I had heard about it from guys that had been there. It was reckoned to be the best posting in the army. 

We had plenty to think about as we went on two weeks' well-earned leave.

Back at barracks after our leave - it was early May, 1955.

We were kitted out with tropical gear, given lectures about behaviour and conduct when overseas, then transported down to Blackbush Airport outside London.

It was my first time flying, and I got onto the plane with some trepidation: however, I soon got to enjoy the flight.

We left on a Wednesday and after having quite a few stops, including two overnights in Karachi and Calcutta, we arrived at R.A.F. Changi (which is now Singapore International Airport on the Saturday.

An army truck was waiting and took us to what would be our home for the next 18 months or so, Number 3, Army Guard Dog Unit, Singapore.

After settling in and acclimatising, we were given an alsatian each which would be our companion for the rest of our stay.

They were all well-trained war dogs.

Our duties were going to be guarding most of the military installations on the island, armed with a fearsome dog and a .38 revolver.

We soon got used to the routine, but looked forward to our days off duty.

There were a few racing lads already at the camp when we arrived and they gave us the info on the local racing scene. The racecourse was Bukittimah where meetings were held on a regular basis. Some trainers were based at the track which was quite near our own barracks. Naturally, whenever there was a meeting on our off-duty days, that's where we would be.

After we had been in Singapore for several months and nearly halfway through our two years, Tommy - who had got more into the racing people than the rest of us - said that he had got a job at the racetrack as a work rider for one of the trainers.

Nobody believed him, but when he came back from a training spell one morning dressed in riding gear, we knew it was true.

It wasn't a paid job, just voluntary and it was only on days when he was not on duty.

He had to be at the track at 6 a.m. and there was an army jeep that took him there and brought him back to camp.

The trainer he rode for was no other than Jack Spencer who was a top trainer in Singapore in those days.

Tom was able to keep himself trim for when his army days were over.

The weeks and months dragged on and on, but eventually we reached December 1956. A week before Christmas, Tommy, myself and three other lads were informed that we would be flying home on Boxing Day for demobilisation.

The best Christmas present ever!

We had to spend Christmas Day in a transit camp, but we had a very good send-off dinner. Next morning, we were on our way back to Blighty. We took a different route back from Singapore, having overnight stops in at New Delhi, Entebbe in Uganda (in tents beside Lake Victoria, Kano (Nigeria) and finally Malta.

Eventually we arrived back at Melton Mowbray on New Year's Eve.

We had a quiet celebration as we were pretty well exhausted after flying in an old Handley

Page Hermes, which rattled like hell.

We were kept at the barracks until 4th January. They must have been making sure that we did exactly two years' service.

We were soon on the way home, though, itching to get back to what we had missed during the past two years.

Tommy and I were on the same train north to Edinburgh, where we split up.

Tom was heading west to Clydebank; I was going north to the Forth Bridge to Valleyfield.

We knew that we'd be meeting up again at some race meeting once we had settled into our jobs.

First thing I did when I got home was to phone Mr Dixon at Wigton to let him know I was now demobbed from the army, and asked if what we  had spoken about two years earlier was still on. (I had visions of getting home and finding that things had changed and that there was now no job.)

Mr Dixon, to his credit, was as good as his word and said as soon as I'd had a good rest, I could come and join his team.

At the end of January, 1957, I was ready to start my quest to see whether or not I could make it as a jockey. I was going to be living in as family with the Dixons, as was John Cuddihy who was still stable jockey.

It was a great arrangement which I enjoyed, just like being at home. Mrs Dixon was a great cook, making lovely meals - maybe too good as we tended to overeat.

The jumps season was already halfway through but I soon got into the routine again. It was great to be riding out every day. There were eight or nine horses in training then, and as well as John and myself, we had an old ex-jockey - Frank Carruthers - who lived locally and a girl from the town as well who would come and help with the riding out. It was quite a happy little set up.

The stable had already had a couple of winners since the start of the season and was looking good for a few more.

At the end of the season John went home to Ireland for the summer break which was the usual thing.

Most of the horses were roughed off for a few weeks, but there were still a few to keep the rest of us busy during the break in the jumps season. A couple of the jumpers were kept in training for the Flat, plus three others which were regular Flat racers. We must have been doing things right in keeping them fit and well (under the supervision of the boss, of course) because three of the horses between them won six races  - West Croft and Profit From Print both won at Carlisle and Hamilton while Dantry won at Bogside and Ayr.

I have to smile every time we go to Hamilton with runners when I think back to my days when my uncle used to sneak me in to the enclosure.

By the beginning of August, the horses which had been out at grass were already in and preparations for the new jumps season were under way.

First it would be road work, building up to a steady canter and schooling.

Our first runners would be at Sedgefield in mid-September. We'd had a few additions to the string as well, and things were looking up.

Round about this time I decided to bring up the subject of jockey licences with the boss. He said he would think about it and left it at that. 

At the end of August I got the surprise of my life (no - it wasn't me getting my licence). The boss had been talking about taking on another lad, being as though we had more horses.

He said a chap called Tom McGinley would be coming next day.

I was astonished. I hadn't heard from Tom or seen him at any of the race meetings since we left Melton Mowbray.

He arrived late the following evening having driven all the way up from Kingsclere, near Newbury, on a motorbike he had bought.

He said that he had been working for a Flat racing trainer, Peter Hastings Bass.

We then had a good old chinwag and catch up and looked forward to being in the same team again.

By the end of September the horses were coming along nicely with the schooling and everything, and I was beginning to wonder if I would be riding in a race early in the season, or later on, or never.

At the end of the month I received my jockey's licence and felt on top of the world. I thought that Mr Dixon must have felt that I was ready to race. The two horses I looked after were Union Pacific and Waver Lad. I regularly schooled Waver Lad and Mr Dixon would tell me to get used to the way he jumped and make sure I was comfortable on him. I thought to myself 'does this mean I'm going to be riding him when he runs?' I really hoped so.

In the first two weeks of the season we had two winners, that is, two wins with the same horse - West Croft at Hexham on 28th September with John Cuddihy riding, and again at Carlisle the following Monday with local lad 

John Hudson in the saddle.

Unfortunately the second win was lost after a dodgy objection for crossing was upheld. The horse that finished second was Cacique, trained by Verley Bewicke and owned by Lord Cardogan. Fashionable trainers and posh owners against the little man.

West Croft and John had no chance.

John was the son of Tom Hudson, a nearby farmer who also trained a few jumpers. He was a good friend of Mr Dixon. John sometimes helped out with schooling and work riding at our yard, and had the occasional ride for the boss.

The next racing for us was at Ayr, the weekend following Carlisle. A Saturday and Monday meeting. On looking at the entries I saw that we had three runners on the Saturday and one for the Monday, that being my little mate Waver Lad.

On the Friday when arranging things for the meeting the boss said that I would be staying at home on Saturday and going to Ayr on Monday and riding Waver Lad in the novice hurdle.

I was dumbstruck at first then full of excitement. This was going to be it. I had to phone and let Mum and Dad know. I couldn't wait for Monday to come.

As Waver Lad was our only runner at Ayr, the boss didn't go and left it to John (Cuddihy) to be his representative. John also had a ride in the last for an outside stable.

We arrived at the course and, after settling Waver Lad into his stable, we had a walk round. We met some of the other jockeys arriving, among them my old mate Pat Morgan from Craig Brown days.

Pat was going to be riding a horse for Craig in the second division of the race I was in.

John took me to the jockeys' room and introduced me to the valets.

After watching the first race, it was nearing time to get changed. I was in the third race.

Waver Lad had been prepared and was going to be led up by our horsebox driver.

I was getting quite excited by now. Not nervous as I thought I might have been. Just pleasant excitement.

All the established jockeys usually have their own kit, but for newcomers like myself, the valets are a great help.

I was provided with a nice pair of riding breeches, a pair of boots, a saddle and a crash helmet. Oh - and a pair of ladies' nylon tights to help get your legs into the skin-tight boots.

Next thing was to be weighed out for the race.

I made it with a few pounds to spare, but not as much as I thought I would. I thought I'd better keep that in mind. Soon it was time to walk out into the parade ring. My thoughts went back to my first time at Hamilton Park, the first time I saw racehorses in the flesh, the jockeys getting mounted and led out onto the track and thinking, this is what I want to do.

Now, in October, 1957, at Ayr, I was doing just that. The only difference was that this was a jumps race and not Flat.

John was waiting in the parade ring with Waver Lad's owner, a lovely old gentleman named Tommy Stamper.

There were no specific riding instructions - it was the horse's first run of the season and he would need the race. Just get him home safely.

We had a nice canter down to the start. He wasn't a hard puller - just a nice, steady hold.

A little bit of banter with the other riders at the start and we were off. It was a great feeling.

We had taken the first two jumps very well and at the third one a horse, Carrick Lad, with Mel Sisson riding, fell right in front of me, but luckily we managed to dodge him. We kept going really well, but in the straight, the little fellow was beginning to tire. I just concentrated on getting over the last two jumps safely.

Mr Stamper was quite satisfied how his horse had run and how I had ridden him as a first-timer.

Pat won his race on Cottingley Bridge for Craig, but John was unplaced on his spare ride, Domenicus.

After the euphoria of me riding in my first race, I soon got into normal work routine the next day. 

Since leaving the army, I had noticed recently that I had gained some weight, so I started doing some jogging in the evenings with some sweaters on, hoping that would help me maintain the weight I had then.

We didn't have any runners the following weekend, but on November 2, at Catterick, when Waver's Lad was due to run again, I got my wish.

I had been hoping and hoping since Ayr that I would get to ride him again and Mr Dixon told me the day before the race that I would be. I was over the moon again.

The race turned out to be quite exciting. I noticed among the others riders the names of Paddy Farrell, Tim Molony and Jumbo Wilkinson.

These were some of the top jockeys I used to read about as a kid.

There were nearly double the amount of runners as there were in my first race, which resulted in a lot of jostling and shouting as we came to the first hurdle. The race went quite well for us. Waver's Lad was jumping well and we managed to keep up with the leading group until dropping away at the finish. I could feel that he had improved on his first run, so I was quite chuffed.

It was getting towards Christmas, and the yard had been having a quiet time, but I got an early Christmas present. To my surprise the boss told me that I would be riding Fair Rose at the Newcastle meeting on December 14, which was the next day. She was a little chestnut mare which had been running on the Flat in the summer, and already had two runs over hurdles.

We arrived on the course and, as we were in the first race, I went straight to the dressing room to get readied. When checking on the valet's scales, it showed that I was a few pounds overweight. He told me not to worry as he would get me a light saddle. He came back with the smallest one he could find which he called a postage stamp.

However, I was still a pound overweight on the official scales, at 11 stone instead of 10st 13lb. That depressed my spirit a little. It like the writing might be on the wall for my fledgling jockey career.

When I legged up in the paddock, though, I forgot about it as the adrenaline  was starting to flow.

Cantering down to the start she took a fierce hold. She must have thought she was going down for a Flat sprint race.

We got a great start and were able to keep up with the leaders for a while, but towards the finish she dropped away. Apart from rapping the last two flights she had jumped well, and if the ground had been good or firmer, I think she would have finished much closer.

After the Christmas and New Year's meetings and into February, things were beginning to look up for the stable. We had a couple of winners with the promise of more to come as the horses were in good nick.

I had a bit of a surprise when chatting with Tommy one evening. He said he had decided to move on again. Things hadn't worked out the way he had hoped and I fully agreed with him. I had expected that with his experience in Flat racing and the work that he'd been putting in he would be going well now.

He was going to move down south again, to a trainer in Norfolk, so once again I was saying goodbye, for now, at least, to my old buddy.

I was sure, though, we hadn't heard the last of T. McGinley.

********

By the end of the 1957-58 season we'd had ten winners, not bad for a small stable.

As for myself, try as I could, I just couldn't get into a regime of dieting and wasting, so I had to accept the inevitable.

I levelled off to about eight or nine pounds above an acceptable riding weight (which I still am even now).

I wasn't too disappointed. I could still continue working with the horses, schooling and so on, and going to the races. Also, I could say that I had achieved what I wanted to do when I first for interested in horses, albeit for a short while.

We didn't have many runners on the Flat that summer. One of them was a sprinter which the boss had bought at the sales. It's previous trainer had been Dick Perryman at Newmarket. She was a lovely chestnut named Assay which I think had won a race or two previously. I got to ride her a few times on the gallops and she was a real flier. Her first run for the yard was at Carlisle in June '58. She bolted home, winning at 20-1. If I remember rightly, it was the only winner we had on the Flat that summer.

In the season 1958-59 John Cuddihy had left to return to Craig Brown as head lad as Jimmy Reid had retired. We now had a new head lad at Low Houses, Jack Jarman, a local man from Wigton, who had previously worked for Mr Dixon until about 1953.

I had my first bad fall in early August. I was schooling a young, headstrong horse: he had jumped a couple of hurdles okay if a bit hesitant. Coming in for a second run at a good speed he ducked left at the first jump, crashing through the wings. This sent me flying, leaving me with a broken ankle and putting me out of action for a while.

The boss took me to hospital in his car where I was given painkillers. After x-rays and so on, I was kept in overnight. I was informed that the break wasn't too bad but that I'd be out of action for about two months.

I left hospital the next day on crutches with my ankle plastered.

The boss picked me up and took me back to the stables.

The young horse was okay with just a few minor scratches. It was decided that it would be best for me to recuperate with my family, and I was soon on my way for an unexpected holiday.

While at home, I began wondering what kind of occupation I could have if I wasn't racing. Not that I wanted to leave it - I still loved working with the horses and everything that goes with it.

I was looking forward to the future and, unless you're getting some race riding, the wages aren't great, so I decided that once my ankle was healed I would finish off the season at Mr Dixon's.

My weight had unfortunately ruled me out of race riding, but I was grateful to the boss for giving me the opportunities and experiences I had enjoyed. At the end of the season, then, I would try to find one of those high paying jobs my mates at home had been telling me about.

After about six weeks of hobbling around on crutches, the plaster was removed. I was still a bit tender and I was told not to start work for a week or two when I would be checked out of the hospital. I felt I could drive though, if I took it easy, and decided to visit my old boss Mr Craig Brown at Bonnytoun Farm. (I had a car by this time, the bike was redundant.)

It was nice looking round the yard again. 

Most of the lads were new faces to me though John Cuddihy was still there together with Mick Smith, a jockey who had come over from Ireland.

I visited the yards two or three times a week after that. Craig even let me ride out with the lads a few times which was great.

Around mid-October, I had the all-clear from the hospital to return to work, and I went to see Craig and the lads to say goodbye.

When I got to the yard, Craig called me into the office: he told me that he'd had a visit the day before from a fellow trainer and good friend, Mr Wilf Crawford, who trained at Hoddington near Edinburgh. He had asked Craig if he could borrow one of the lads for a short term period, probably until the end of the season as one of his men had to leave at very short notice for family reasons.

Craig said that he would be unable to do that, but he knew someone who might be able to help. That someone was me.

I said I would have to think about it.

When I got back home I phoned Mr Dixon and explained the situation, saying that I had decided to finish at the end of the season anyway.

He was great and said if I was able to do someone a favour, it was fine with him. He wished me luck.

Next day I told Craig that I would be happy to join Mr Crawford. Craig then phoned Mr Crawford to inform him.

Mr Crawford said he would drive over to speak to me.

He arrived and hour or so later after I'd had a ride out with the lads.

We had a nice chat and I found him very warm and friendly and quite down to earth for an ex-Royal Navy Commander.

I had seen him several times at the races and had heard about his wartime service.

He gave me directions to his place and I said I would be there the next day. Before we finished, he gave me a small sum of money, which was a nice surprise. It must have been the way of sealing the deal.

And that is how I came to be working for Wilf Crawford.

********

I arrived in Haddington the next day and made my way to the stables.

It was a long drive up to what looked like a stately home. This was Huntington House, home of the Crawford family.

Mr Crawford then showed me the yard and the stable staff living quarters. It was a smart apartment, adjoining the main house.

Then I met head lad Dan Mckeown. There was only Dan and myself working in the yard for the time being, but as there were only four horses in training, we would manage all right.

There was also a head gardener who could help out in the yard if needed and would keep an eye on the place while we would be racing.

The horses were Lothian Princess, a two-mile chaser I had seen racing a few times - Mossarco, an ex-Flat horse from Doug Smith's stable - the unraced Thistle and Admiral Hornblower, who was already a winner.

Looking in Hornblower's box, I thought I was seeing things. There was a white goat lying beside him. I was told that they were the best of mates and didn't like to be parted.

I soon settled into my new surroundings. It was lovely countryside with plenty of different places to take the horses on exercise. Sometimes when doing fast work, we took them in the horsebox to Dunbar, about ten miles away, to gallop on the sands. It is the same place where Scottish Flat race trainer George Boyd trained his horses.

The first horse to run since my arrival was to be Mossarco at Sedgefield on Boxing Day. He would be ridden by Dan. As well as being head lad he also held a jockey's licence.

Dan left early with the horsebox driver to get to the course in plenty of time.

I felt honoured when the boss said I could travel in the car (as I would be leading Mossarco) with himself, Mrs Crawford and daughter Susan.

Susan was home from University for Christmas. She went on to become a famous equestrian artist. I have a copy of her work 'The Three Kings' (Arkle, Red Rum & Desert Orchid) hanging in my dining room.

Mossarca ran a very good race for a first time over hurdles and the boss was very pleased with it.

I travelled back in the horsebox.

We had another runner, Admiral Hornblower (unplaced) at Catterick the following week, New Year's Day, 1960.

Dan had a bad fall just before that, on a young horse - Hamilton - which he was breaking in. He was hospitalised with a broken jaw which required both jaws being wired together for a while.

The boss soon found a replacement. It was an old pal of mine, Pat Hurley. I had got to know Pat from when I first started as a stable lad and getting to know all the lads from other stables each time we went racing.

He was with Stuart Wight at Grantshouse.

Pat started race riding in about 1954 and soon became a well-established northern jockey, riding plenty of winners for other stables as well as the boss. He was going to be Mr Crawford's stable jockey for the next few years. It was good to be now working with him.

Mossarco won at the Ayr meeting in March, but I didn't make a fortune on him. He was hot favourite.

His next and last race of the season was at the Bogside Scottish Grand National meeting, late in April, when he finished second with Pat riding.

It was practically the end of the season for us as well, when I would be packing my bags.

I had thoroughly enjoyed my spell at Huntingdon House. Mr Crawford was a real gentleman to work for and who treated all of his staff with the utmost respect. I was so pleased, in later years after he had increased his string of horses, that every season he had a good deal of success.

********

I was now looking for a new venture. I wasn't abandoning racing. It was still my number one sporting interest, and I would still be going racing whenever I could. Once you have caught the racing bug it stays with you forever.

Over the next two years, I had a couple of fairly good jobs, but in 1962 I found the one which I would be in until I retired in 1999. It was in the telecommunications industry.

The company was B.I.C.C. Ltd. based at Prescot, near Liverpool. They manufactured telephone cables and also did construction and installation for B.T. (or Post Office Telephones, as they were known in those days).

They also did major overseas contracts through subsidiary companies, which interested me more as the money would be better.

After some training courses and exams, I was up and running and started to work on jobs in the U.K., initially as a cable jointer.

By this time I hadn't heard from Tommy for ages. When he went down south, I noticed that he'd had an odd ride here and there on the southern tracks. Then, near the end of 1962, I noticed that he had been riding for Noel Robinson in Northumberland.

That winter, especially in January and February (1963), there was a big freeze-up that stopped a lot of the racing. However, there was a meeting at Ayr which got the go ahead,

and Tom was listed for a few rides.

I would like to have gone and cheered him on, but because of work commitments, I wasn't able to go. Pity about that, because Tom rode three winners. I was really chuffed for him.

He was really starting to put his mark on the northern racing scene.

When racing got back to normal I was able to go to the next meeting where Tom was riding, and we had a good old catch-up. He was just thankful that he had got a lucky break, and happy that I had found a good, alternative career. He was getting winners on a regular basis for a while and I think he was a leading conditional rider that season.

As Tommy's career kept going well, I was doing okay, too. In 1965 the company had a contract with Nigeria  Telecom which required a few of us to go. Luckily, I was one of the chosen few and, after a couple of weeks getting to know all about what we'd be doing over there, we arrived in Lagos in August 1965. The job lasted 15 months and, while there, I used to have the Sporting Life sent to me now and again to try to keep up with the racing scene at home.

Unfortunately, when checking all the jumps meetings, especially the jump ones, I could never see Tommy's name on the racecards. I thought maybe he was out of action through injury or something.

When I returned home in early December 1966 and once I got used to wintry weather after enjoyable tropical sunshine, I ventured out to the races.

On meeting my old friends, I asked what had happened to Tommy? They said he had emigrated out to Victoria, Australia, about 18 months ago.

I was taken aback for a little while, but then I remembered an occasion back in our army days in Singapore when he had that job as a works rider at the race track.

He used to tell us about the Australian jockeys he met there and he said then that he fancied going back. He even tried to have it arranged by the army after our service was completed, thinking it would be okay going from Singapore to Australia instead of going back o the UK.

He was told there was no chance and that he'd have to go back to the UK like the rest of us.

So that explained why I hadn't been seeing Tommy's name on the racing pages.

After a couple of weeks' holiday, I was settled into working in the UK again. Later on, though, I started thinking of having a trip to Australia myself. I had done well money-wise from working in Nigeria, so I could easily afford it.

After talking to my bosses about the possibility of having an extended leave later in the year and telling them where I wanted to visit, they were okay about it. In fact, they suggested that if I wanted to they could arrange for me to work at their subsidiary company in Melbourne for a while during my stay, saying it would further my experience in the industry.

A bit like being transferred to a branch of the parent company.

After making sure my job would be secure when I returned, I jumped at the chance of doing that. The current job I was working on would be completed by July or August.

It eventually finished in August with all inspections and quality checks completed, so I could now book my flight to Oz.

********

On a Friday afternoon in mid-September 1967 (can't remember the date), I was on my way and, after stops in Rome, Delhi and Manilla, we arrived at Sydney on Sunday morning. Then an internal flight to Melbourne. It wasn't as long as it seems being as eastern Australia was 10 hours ahead of UK time, but still pretty tiring.

I soon found out what would be my home during my time down under. It was a pre-booked, lovely guest house in the St Kilda area of Melbourne about three or four miles from the city centre.

After a hearty Aussie dinner and a drink or two I was soon ready for bed and good sound sleep.

Next morning I was quite excited getting to know my new surroundings and exploring Melbourne, then maybe tracking down Tommy.

The arrangement with my bosses was that I could enjoy sight-seeing and getting to know the area before linking up with the Melbourne branch B.I.C.C. (Australia) Ltd. So I was going to make the best of it.

The first week was really good. I took in a visit to Caulfield on the Saturday. There was an all Flat meeting, so Tommy wasn't there. I had noticed that he was riding at one of the country courses. That's what they call the lower grade tracks.

The main thing I had to do now was to find a half-decent car to get me around. I soon found one, a nice little Simca in very good nick, which would do me for my time in Aussie land.

After the second week I noticed there was a race meeting at Mornington, a country course about 30 miles east of Melbourne. And Tommy was down to ride there. So that would be my day out.

A nice drive along the coast road then I came to Mornington, a lovely little town.

I arrived at the course about 30 minutes before the first race. Tom would be in the third race. Then I went to the weighing room area and asked the doorman if Tom McGinley had arrived. He said that he had and I asked if he would go in and let him know he had a visitor.

When Tommy came out he was gobsmacked in a pleasant way. After the initial shock of seeing me he asked what I was doing there. We had a good old chat and he said he was living in Mornington, a short distance from the course. We arranged to meet after racing finished so that I could follow him to his home a have a proper catch-up.

When I stepped into Tom's house the first thing I noticed were pictures all round his living room walls. Pictures of all the races he'd won - quite a collection.

It was nice meeting Tom's wife Irene and his young family, three sons and a daughter.

After a few hours and a nice meal from Irene, it was time for me to get back to Melbourne. I told Tom that I would try to get to a race meeting whenever I could so that we could have a chat that way now and again.

At the beginning of October I joined up with my new workmates. I would be working alongside Australian Telecom men. That was who my company was contracted to. They gave me a good welcome, and I soon got into their ways. By the end of the month I was well settled in and really enjoying my work.

The talk was now all about the upcoming Melbourne Cup, run on the first Tuesday in November each year. It is always a national holiday so I would be going.

When the day came, I got to the course early, well before mid-day, but Flemington was pretty well packed even then. I had a walk round the paddock and parade area which was all lovely with flowers everywhere. The course really did live up to its reputation.

Tom had a ride in one of the supporting races just before the cup, a two-mile chase. I knew I couldn't get near him at the parade ring because of the crowds, so I waited at the place where they are led onto the course. We could only exchange a few words and I wished him luck in the race.

He came third, and when he came back in I said I would see him another day at one of the country meetings where it would be much quieter. More like a normal race day.

Next race was the cup. By this time the atmosphere was terrific. Just what I'd always heard it was like.

The race was a cracker as well. They seemed to be flat out all the way. It was won by Red Handed,  (right) ridden by Roy Higgins. It was a great day out, but I don't think it would ever compare with the Cheltenham Festival atmosphere.

********

It wasn't long until Christmas was upon us. A couple of Brit workmates, who had been over there for quite a long time, and myself were invited by another workmate, who was an Aussie, to have Christmas day with him and his family which I thought was a very nice gesture.

It was strange, though, having Christmas Day in hot mid-summer weather. Then, the following week, it was New Year.

I always thought the Scots at celebrating New Year, but the Aussies go wild. In a happy way of course.

I was Melbourne city centre for the celebrations and it was a real carnival atmosphere that went on to the early hours of 1968.

With the festive season over, it was now time to concentrate on the work ahead. During the Autumn and Winter (Australian seasons) I managed to get to one of the country meetings on a Saturday when Tommy was riding, and we would have a bit of a chat.

Sometimes at work if the talk was about racing and the Aussies mentioned Tommy's name, I would say he was an old friend of mine, but they wouldn't believe me. They said I was joking because I was Scottish like him. I brought in a few army photos of when we were in Singapore together and then they believed me.

By the end of August the work had been going well. In fact, the particular job I had been doing was practically complete and the boys in the office received word from head office in the UK that I would be required for a major contract about to start in the UK, and that I should return home when I finished.

Second week in September I was on my way back and looking forward to my next assignment. They hadn't said where it was going to be, but it never bothered me where I worked. I just enjoyed my job wherever the location was.

After a few days at home, I went to the Prescot headquarters to get briefed on the new job. It was in the Outer Hebrides (sometimes known as the Utter Hebrides) and it was to upgrade the external networks for the Post Office Telephones on the northern half of the Isle of Harris and Lewis, mainly around Stornaway and its outgoing areas.

It was estimated to last about a year.

I felt fortunate that I had found a job I really liked after working with those lovely racehorses. It got even better when the fibre optic revolution came to the telcomms industry in the 1970s and 80s. It was good to be working with new technology and techniques.

After several years, with the nature of my work and sometimes working abroad, I lost contact with the racing world for a long time. I had read in some racing papers bout Tommy's association with Crisp, but that had started just after I had left Australia in 1968. It might have been a different story if he had been on Crisp in the Grand National.

Photo, left: Tommy & Crisp.

Tommy had moved away from Mornington and I had no other contact details. When it got to about 2005 (I had already retired in 1999) I thought that was too long to be out of touch. The best place I thought of which might be able to help, was the Victorian racing authority, Racing Victoria. I thought they might have records of ex-jockeys, and as I was in possession of a laptop, maybe I could find something on the internet.

I did find the Racing Victoria website but couldn't get very far. (Maybe it's because I'm not very computer savvy.) However, there was an email address. Nobody's name for it, just the email address.

So I wrote one out asking if they had an address for ex-jockey T. McGinley. I had a reply next day from a lady who worked in a racing museum. She was sorry she couldn't help me, but she did add that when Tommy was riding, he was her favourite jockey. She had met Tommy and Irene when they visited the museum. I sent her a reply thanking her for emailing me anyway.

Two days later I could only assume that first email I sent had been passed around at Racing Victoria, because I received another one. This time from the chief stipendiary steward's office, and his name was Brian McGinley. I could hardly believe it. He said he was Tom's son and that his dad had moved to a place called Darley, about 40 miles of Melbourne some years ago.

He kindly gave me all Tom's contact details and added that after he retired, he started going back to Scotland for 2 or 3 months every year.

Irene was from Eyemouth in the Border region and still had family and friends there, and that was now their yearly routine. They had bought a little holiday home for the purpose.

How ironic it was when Bruce told me they were in fact on their way home after the end of their holiday. My wife, Joan, and I had been to Berwick-on-Tweed that week for a few days.

Eyemouth is only 8 miles from Berwick. If only we had known.

Anyway, now that we were back in contact there would be a lot f catching up.

Tommy told me that Bruce had ridden as an apprentice for two or three years, then got a job at Racing Victoria, eventually working his way up to chief of integrity.

We were soon busy on the emails and Skype. When Tom hung up his riding boots he didn't rest on his laurels. He told me he trained for a while, served as a steward with Racing Victoria and even got into harness racing. He travelled a bit as well.

He was chief steward of the racing in Macau, and another time he was in Iran to design a racecourse. He didn't get the chance to complete it - it was the time when the Ayatollahs were taking over and he said they had to get out of there sharpish.

We arranged that when Tom and Irene came here for their annual holiday, Joan and I would book a few days at Eyemouth to visit them and really catch up on things.

And that is what we've been doing ever since.

We met Irene's relations, and we usually all go for a nice meal and always have a great bit of banter. Not always about racing either. That is usually left to Tommy and me. He can still give a good running commentary on all the big races he won on Crisp and the other good horses he rode.

Photo, left: Peter and Joan in Jamaica 2007

I like looking back at my time in racing.

The camaraderie among the jockeys in the weighing room and even with the stable lads and stable lasses every time we met up at the race meetings was great. It is nice to see that it is still the same when watching on T.V. these days.

Nowadays, as well as racing, I enjoy watching most other sports.

In 1970, while working on a contract in Stafford, I met Joan who later became my wife. We married on February 28, 1973. We have two daughters, Hazel and Kay, and two grand-daughters.

Hazel and son-in-law Richard had Emily.

Kay and son-in-law Allan had Chloe.

We now live in Shropshire and enjoy going on holidays occasionally, and Joan is a keen photographer.