Yesterday I went to Royal Ascot. Normally such an event - all top hat and tailcoats and posh frocks and the sound of the British upper classes braying at each other would bring out the republican in me and I most certainly wouldn't dream of going if I had to pay for the (dubious) privilege. However a man called lan Smith - who is a real old school dealer - in horses and everything else as far as I can see - and has a fairly dodgy reputation - is a friend of Boyd's (most of the time - sometimes they fall out and won't speak to each other) and as he (Ian) is a Member of the Coaching Club he can take his Road Coach to the Ascot meet. The Coaching Club is one of the very last bastions of old school traditional male chauvinism/upper class/gentry Club snobbery left in this country. Terribly select, and you have to own a traditional road coach (a-la the old fashioned Christmas cards type coach) and you are invited to join - you can't apply - and they will only have you if your face fits and you have been to all the right schools, and speak with the right accents. Lord only knows how Ian - or, for that matter, George Bowman, got in because I doubt either of them went to school much. Anyway, Ian told Boyd he could invite his personal guests for the Wednesday of Ascot to go on the coach with him and Ian, so he asked Spencer and Clare, Karen Everitt and her husband (she is Boyd's other Chef d'Equipe/nanny/cook/organiser for the trips that Peter and Linda don't do). Owen and Janet, who are friends and clients of his from Scotland (v nice and v rich), and little old me. So I got out the mother-in-law's best posh frock and hat (bought for Philly's wedding - so quite nice) and along I went. Getting on to a coach in your high heels is dodgy. Fortunately all coaches have a ladder for the ladies to climb tip by; otherwise it would be a tuck your skirt in your knickers and hoist yourself up job. Ian asked me to sit up on the front seat with him there and back - we drove from the Army barracks - where the horses stay for the duration of the Ascot meeting - in Windsor - right through Windsor Park and then right through Ascot - up the High Street through all the traffic, past all the posh racegoers, who poor darlings, have only driven there in their Range Rovers, and are having to walk from the car park to the race track, poor dears. Champagne at 9 o'clock in the morning, luncheon in the marquee - plus afternoon tea, and watch the races from the top of the coach, which is parked - minus the horses for the day - right by the royal enclosure. None of your common standing in the Grandstand lark!!!! All very jolly, and fortunately we had marvelous weather. We had a lovely day - it really is the only way to travel. The horses are an home bred piebalds - about 15.2bh - by a Dutch stallion out of Gelderlander cross mares. Very eyecatching. My pair were second at Brighton - 1st dressage, and good marathon in the new Bennington, but crap cones - however, we won Royal Windsor - first time, I have won an International Pairs class, so that made up for it. Very good dressage - lots of American visitors all having the vapours about it, which is very flattering but a bit OTT. Not such a good marathon. I think I got a bit ambitious with my routes and it didn't work all the time, but managed to stay in front. I hate Cones at the moment so I really wasn't feeling right on the Sunday morning, but Boyd came and tuned the horse up for me, tuned me up, told me exactly where to drive on the course - the time was very tight - and told me to go and do it. I had to try, if only to justify his faith in me, and managed to hang on with just one penalty to spare. Lots of kisses from all the continental men I beat, which was very chivalrous of them. Unfortunately some horrid foreign horse must have spat on Plod there, because he got a cough after Windsor and has been out of work for three weeks. However, he is better now and just starting again. We are off with Boyd's team to Germany at the end of the week - then back for one weekend, then off to Holland with Boyd and Beverley's teams. No peace for the wicked. I think everyone has enough stable help so I suspect I will be washing, up and sewing on buttons etc. Sarah Garnett, UK