There's nothing quite like the memories of a racing tour Flash Ned Holgate, spud salesman at the Sydney markets, South Sydney stalwart, bookmaker's clerk, on-course and SP, walked off Royal Ascot like he had viewed paradise. Certainly it ranked with the Clive Churchill era when the Rabbitohs were on the rampage. Or Bob McCarthy carving up the Bulldogs. Perhaps Flash Ned didn't go traditional for royalty but he still ranked with the Lords and West End dandies in the style stakes. Royal Ascot is again on the horizon, so the season of racing tours abroad is just about under way. Tours are about people, places and experiences, but bound together with the spirit of racing. Apart from Flash Ned, our European excursion featured, among others, Fast Eddie Halley, Dennis "The Big D" Drewe, the keenest punter I've ever come across and successful, too, Paul Conners, Allan Johnson, Peter Whealy and Norma Cook. Cook, from a great racing background, still has the stopwatch that clocked hundreds of winning gallops, but more importantly she tried to smuggle beer from business class to thirsty losers in steerage. Fast Eddie, a former wharfie, had an uncanny knowledge of form, stock exchange and horse. He was also a jazz aficionado. At every main port he went down to the wharves to see how the struggle was going but never returned with good news. "I've been barbered," he grimaced out of the corner of his mouth regarding a memorable Paris incident. I had also got a short back and sides, including being trimmed for my passport, from thieves who burgled our rooms. But negativity disappeared in a Paris jazz dungeon where the musicians squeezed with patrons into restricted space until dawn. Whealy, a tax accountant and leviathan bookmaker around the western districts, shone. Waiters attempted every ploy to touch the gullible visitors, but were no match for an Aussie who had honed his skill against the tax office. Fast Eddie pointed out the history of the riffs through influence of the American Negro musicians who fled to Paris. Meanwhile, the immaculate Allan, garbed more Opera House chic than Flash Ned's Hollywood George cool, was voted the best-dressed male at the Folies Bergere. A Sydney racecourse regular, Allan mixes enthusiasm for ballet with the punt. Still, Conners wasn't one to be distracted by diversions, distinguishing himself by finding an obscure jumps meeting outside of Paris. More recently he has been writing the longest letters published by Winning Post. While the French have their peccadilloes, you can't be dirty on any nation that produces such good food, wine and Chantilly, a horse heaven. Yes the facilities for punters were more Kembla Grange than Longchamps but Chantilly is for horses, racing in idyllic surroundings, featuring a castle in the background. The Big D backed a 66-1 winner at Chantilly and gave a fine grandstand ride, putting in the same lusty enthusiasm a few years later when he heckled Frankie Dettori at Flemington for lack of judgment. Horses, too, are much appreciated in Ireland, home of Coolmore, the National Stud, and hobbies. Never heard of the hobby horse? On our travels we came across a country inn where the guest register was also the stud book for hobbies, the only horse the working-class were once allowed to own in Ireland. Get on your hobby horse was the equivalent of get on your bike, or the more modern "you're fired." Hobbies were mentioned in dispatches from the Battle of Waterloo for their tenacity, despite limited size, at hauling cannons on heavy ground, and were also appreciated on the table. The United States, on another trip but with "Flash Ned" again involved, didn't produce the same racing flavour as Europe. The blue grass of Keeneland is magic but mint juleps are required to get through the Kentucky Derby at Louisville. The mint julep consists of granulated sugar, branch water, a large sprig of mint, and crushed ice mixed with a bucket of Kentucky Rot Gut bourbon. About four will leave the consumer in the same state as being kicked in the cranium by Secretariat. Real Quiet won my Kentucky Derby in 1998. Veterinarians at the University of Florida had inserted screws and wires into the front legs of the colt to straighten his crooked stride. Six months later he was sent to the Keeneland sales. The screws and wires had been surgically removed. Nobody told trainer Bobby Baffert and he paid $17,000 for him on behalf of leading stable patron Mike Pegram. What's he got, cancer? Pegram said when told the price. In other areas, too, Real Quiet fell well short of the classic Kentucky Derby winner, being nicknamed "The Fish" because of his narrow frame. Later, a superb sports coat on display in Rodeo Drive, Los Angeles, caught the eye of Flash Ned. "I'm going to win enough at Hollywood Park to buy that," he pledged. Alas, he never walked off the venue that once was graced by Cary Grant, and Bing Crosby with the same glow as Royal Ascot. Still, being driven back along Rodeo Drive he shouted: "Stop the bus." It's the best sports coat ever seen in Coogee.