WHENEVER visitors came to his stables at Warren Place near Newmarket, the home of English flat racing, Henry Cecil liked to show them the roses first. Not the colts, rippling with raw power, or the fillies chattering in their stable, but a bloom fresh-picked by his long, aristocratic fingers. “That’s good scent, yeah? And lots of buds to come.” Leading the way to the stable yard, a lanky, shy, elegant figure with flopping hair, he would add: “This is a rose hedge, you know. When the hips start coming, when they go red, the fillies love them. Better than a sugar lump.”
Superb evocation of a man. Lots of detail in not so many words.
I can’t imagine an Australian trainer wandering through the roses.
Truly an extraordinary character.
Here’s the obit I pasted in to the Racing previews a few weeks back…
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2339944/Sir-Henry-Cecil-death-The-uproarious-life–valiant-death–racings-colourful-trainer.html
Crio, love the piece from the daily mail, what a life! Reckon Keiron Fallon might have broken the high jump world record when Cecil legged him up at Goodwood.
Also love the photo at the head of the article in his topper, looks like a character straight out of Dickens (perhaps Fezziwig)