We're all going to hell in a handcart, either because the planet's turning into a microwave, or a moron flimflam merchant in the White House, not to mention the benighted lunacy that is Brexit. It's a big picture to make racing's tiny self-absorbed bit seem especially trivial. None of which will stop those of us in thrall to the thoroughbred feeling the simple joy of pondering how Too Darn Hot might transform from exceptional two year old into the real classic deal next year.

This time of year is the changeover period for me in some ways — the end of the Flat season and the start of the school season!