We are coming to the end of the Flat season and, for many of the on-course workmen, that means the work, whilst not exactly drying up, certainly shrinks in size, writes David Massey. At the risk of getting into politics, a tough winter lies ahead for plenty of them and, with meetings already being lost to hard ground, the sooner the rain comes, the better.

I'm one of the luckier ones in so much as I've got the writing if meetings are abandoned, but all the same, a change in the weather is much needed if we are to get back to anything like a normal fixture schedule. Replacing a lost Ludlow with Chelmsford one night might keep the shops happy, but it's hardly a like for like.

Anyway, I digress. I was due to work at Warwick for their season opener a couple of weeks ago, on this occasion writing up some paddock notes; but the funeral of the Queen saw racing cancelled on the day. That gave me time to study Tuesday's Warwick card in some detail, and I duly turned up at the meeting with great confidence that I had it all worked out.

The afternoon went like this: the stone cold place lay I had in the first almost won, the paddock standout in the second couldn't jump for toffee, the back-to-lay in the third fell at the second. The paddock pick in the fourth went lame and pulled up. No bet in the next two races and the high point of the day was my each-way third in the bumper. We held a two minute silence at Southwell the next day, not for those we have lost, but for the amount of money I managed to do in in one afternoon.

It really is amazing how many times I approach a meeting thinking I've all the winners, only to watch the money drain away as I go on the Chevy. The more I try the worse it gets. You have to be true to yourself and not change tack, because you might miss a good-priced winner you fancy if you start (literally) changing horses in midstream, so you stick to the plan. On this occasion, it did not work, and the drive home consisted of trying to justify my selections to myself whilst listening to PM on Radio 4.

Anyway, on to Southwell the next night, and a shift for S&D. I always enjoy an evening at Southwell, even if, as it did here, it rains, as everyone knows everyone else and you're guaranteed a few laughs. We normally take the mickey out of Stan, a fellow worker for Barry Johnson and an ardent Man U supporter, as he's convinced they'll win the league this year (actually, he's convinced every year). I write this just as his team had their backsides handed to them by their City rivals at the weekend; I am very much looking forward to seeing Stanley later this evening.

My next stop is Haydock on the Friday. After the Warwick disaster, and confidence at a low ebb, I have few expectations the afternoon will be any good. Again, I'm writing up paddock notes. Haydock has a wonderful paddock, one of the best in my opinion, with plenty of viewing spots under the trees, and as it is of such a size you can really compare horses with one another.

The first favourite, Rogue Spirit, sweats up very badly and starts misbehaving. It gets a black mark from me and I decide to lay it. Rogue Spirit then proceeds to go down to the start like a dream and come back even better, winning an easy two lengths. Here we go again... Or do we?

I have the next down to two on paddock looks and of the two, I just prefer Helm Rock. A quick look at his form says he will enjoy the softer underfoot conditions and I invest each-way. The relief when he wins at 8-1 cannot be understated. In the next, Double Cherry gets a near-perfect score on fitness and coat from me. He looks outstanding. I've already backed Speycaster but I'm happy to have another good each-way bet on Double Cherry. After getting hampered a furlong out I'm cursing my luck as it looks like he's got the wrong end of the photo, but the slow-mo tells me otherwise. My luck is changing, and it's about time!

There's no bet in the next but I really like the Clive Cox newcomer on looks in the maiden, and go in again at 4-1. When he wins, I'm getting myself right back in it, and then, oh the pain, as my decent each-way bet on Red Derek is done in the final few strides by Pentland Hills. Never mind, this has been a good day, and the Warwick disaster is but a distant memory. Remember, kids - when you're backing winner after winner, you're never as good as you think you are, but when you're backing loser after loser, you're never as bad as you think you are either.

A day's work on the pitch at Chester for their final day of the season follows. It's absolutely mobbed, good money all day, but we (and indeed, quite a few of the books) take a cash hit when the owner backs his Emiyn down the line. Suffice to say when it wins at 16-1, he needs a bag to carry all the readies around in. Fair play to him.

One thing I really wish Chester would sort out is their phone signal, and Wi-Fi. For a track that prides itself on customer experience, it really is very poor. I get a better signal at Fakenham, and, like Yarmouth, that's three and a half hours from anywhere.

Last Thursday, following a 3-hour drive down the M6 (I'd been in Blackpool on the Wednesday night, Morrissey in concert at the Opera House, superb gig) I once again found myself at Warwick. From five paddock picks, four of them won. I suppose that's hardly surprising, given six of the seven favourites won but all the same, it's nice to know your eyesight isn't yet requiring of another trip to Specsavers.

The next couple of weeks are going to be quiet on the work front, as the good lady turns 50 next week and we're off to Cornwall for some fun and frolics with a few friends. We will be taking Champions Day in on the way back though, so I'll let you know how that goes. You might be there, of course, so please say hello if you see us. What then? Ah, Cheltenham, my old friend, it's so good to see you again...

- DM