Dad was sitting at the table with the racing form guide in front of him.
This was a Saturday ritual at our place.
He’d study the lists of races, select the horses he thought were worth betting on, fill out his betting slips and I’d take them to our local betting shop and set it all in motion.
During the afternoon with the television set on the racing channel he would sit and watch each race.
It was often worth the while to sit with him and watch his reaction as each race finished.
If he won he would have a smug look on his face, he’d write down the amount he’d won and fold that betting slip up ready for use the next week.
If he lost, he’d draw a cross on the slip and throw it to one side.
At the end of the afternoon I would ask him if he was in front or behind.
So often he was behind and would look up at me and say: It’s a hard game.