In February 1981 I was asked to be best man for my greatest friend Steve, a guy I had met at university but who now worked in the mining business in the US. He was marrying Joan, an Arizona girl in Phoenix. I was working as a teacher but was lucky that the wedding fell on half term. It went well and I arrived back at Heathrow in good spirits. Money wasn't flowing in those days and I was returning to the north by coach. This left from London Victoria and I arrived an hour before departure. "Time for some English beer," I thought and found the nearest hostelry. I had a suitcase with me and managed to get my drink to a corner table next to a fellow traveller, as evidenced by his own suitcase.
After a brief chat he asked me to look after his case whilst he made a call using the pub phone (no mobiles in those days!). The concern was not only about theft but IRA bombs as well. After a five minute conversation he returned, sat down and thanked me. He then asked if I was interested in Grand National racing. I was.
Now I never was much interested in tips since as a twenty year old student I hitched to Nottingham races. On the way back I was given a lift by a man in a very expensive car. Telling me to keep it under my hat he told me he was part owner in a horse that was to run, and win the following Saturday. When I got home I eagerly went through my Timeform Black Book – the horse didn't exist!
My new friend in the pub not only tipped me a horse, but told me it would run unsuccessfully in the Cheltenham Gold Cup but then go on to win the National. Well it didn't do the former, winning an Ascot trial race instead. It did win the National, though and went on to be part of a successful film.
Yes, the horse was Aldaniti. Did I clean up? No. It was even before the days of in play betting so I couldn't get on when it looked like the horse was going well.
Who was the man? I don't know; but just on the million to one chance you're reading this - get in touch!
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