The Return
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, it’d been a while since I had flirted with the old lady, would she still be there? The same old place, the same time, the same welcome? I wandered up the Park Terrace, hands pushed deep into my pockets against the winter chill, I daren’t raise my head into the harsh wind that blew down the avenue, lest the inevitable tears be mistaken for grief. I was aware of my companions, their resolute foot-steps echoed through the ages, how many times had I bound up past St. Mary’s a black & white rosette pinned for ever to my heart? Now in my mature years I feel a duty not to get emotional about arriving at Penydarren Park, seasons may change but time stands still on the corner of the Tregenna, young Davey Martin is always the first to greet me, it’s a tradition really, I’ve walked around and made a fresh run at the gates if David has been called away. Some things just have to be right. Neil the Gate takes the loot, we discuss today’s horse or may...