INSIDE THE CHELTENHAM WEIGHING ROOM S
ome refer to it as a sanctuary, others have said it is their safe place, and some find it the most enjoyable building on the racecourse.
I am not sure I ever saw the weighing room as any of those things but, for Cheltenham Festival week, it was somewhere I dreamed of being as a kid, which became a reality as a teenager, and a place of work by the time I retired. The thing that hits you first about the weighing
room at the Festival is the heat. It’s crowded. Riders come here for one ride, and full fields mean more jockeys. Add in the number of extra riders from Ireland and the odd French jockey, plus upwards of 20 amateurs, and this room fills quickly. Many riders require additional valets, and the norm of just two valet companies working becomes four at the festival. Eighty to 90 riders per day, a
valet to roughly every eight riders, camerapersons, security people, doctors and raceday officials passing through, means every seat and working space occupied. In the hours before the riders leave for the opening Supreme, this changing room more resembles a packed airport departure lounge full of passengers on delayed flights than it does a sporting dressing room. The only thing that reminds you it’s a weighing room is the smell of leather. Who sits where depends on which valet company
you use, with each of their teams working from different parts of the jockeys’ room, and slowly you find yourself corralled into a certain section. Most get there hours before because of the
Festival traffic. The talkers are like the Ever- Ready bunny, and the quiet ones fall silent. The
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