1800: That's it. Me and the gloves are heading into town. They have attracted plenty of praise and only one person has suggested they are actually women's. He clearly doesn't know that blue is a boy's colour. Probably won't sleep well thanks to the miserable weather forecaster on the weighing room steps. I would need a team of huskies rather than a taxi in the morning if he has his way.

1750: Just interviewed Will Hayler in a snow storm. Bigger flakes, can't have been sleet. Some doom and gloom merchant by the weighing room is expecting more snow and colder temperatures tomorrow. Bet he likes listening to Leonard Cohen.

1730: Decided to try and use the small radio we have been provided with to listen to the last. It didn't go well. I couldn't get the clip over my ear and resembled a fat David Coleman for much of the contest.

1720: I am in danger of becoming obsessed with Alan King. I have sided with his Pretty Star in the last.

1720: Grave fears I am becoming a non-stayer. I have virtually lost my voice and now have back pain. There was a time when this would have been the last race. Fear sections of my body think it is.

1700: I have become fascinated by the electronic weighing scales in the unsaddling enclosure. I'll have to hang around there to see what they are used for but if there is a heaviest racegoer competition in the offing the week could still end on a high.

1650: I wonder what price Richard Harding was to be top jockey at the start of the week? That's two now and he sits alongside the leaders in the race for the trophy. Not sure his book of rides for the final day will be as strong as Tony McCoy or Ruby Walsh's but he is clearly a young rider going places.

1635: It's not been a great week for Martin Pipe and now his Basilea Star, the horse we were told Ladbrokes feared the most, is a major drifter. Could it be about to get worse?

1630: Guinness nominations announced. Nicky Henderson, Alan King and Robert Thornton. My two safely made it to the last three.

1625: Michael Dickinson is back and I am pleased to say the coat was on for the trophy presentation. He had to think about his chest.

1625: It's getting quite dark out there now. The jockeys in the last may be better off with torches rather than whips.

1620: I once interviewed Francois Doumen about our next race. He found it strange that there was a four mile novice chase for amateur riders. He hasn't got a runner again.

1615: Trying to use our excellent search facility to work out how many times I have backed Non So at the Cheltenham Festival. Surprised it's only twice. Didn't back him today.

1600: On the Guinness panel again. Tuesday's snub looks increasingly like a technical blip.

1550: I find the day really runs away from me after the feature race. Ten minutes to sort out the Racing Post Plate doesn't seem enough. Looks like another guess then. Billyvodan.

1535: That Murtagh lad looks like he can ride a finish. May make a jockey one day.

1530: When I stuck a microphone at Alan King last week I had a little chuckle to myself at the thought My Way De Solzen doesn't need heavy ground. Not laughing now. Alan was right to be confident. Good trainer, decent tipster too.

1510: Johnny Murtagh is the centre of attention here ahead of his ride on Golden Cross. Mighty Man is being nursed through the preliminaries but seems to be taking them better than I am. Just banged my knee on the desk and took a lame step or two. Sound again now.

1505: If I owned Baracouda and was chatting to my jockey before the Ladbrokes World Hurdle I probably wouldn't be too happy to have a microphone thrust at me to do an interview. Then again JP McManus seems a nicer man than I am. I believe he may be a tad richer too.

1500: Been asked to go on Sportal's live broadcast later but having second thoughts. Will leave it to Steve Smith Eccles instead.

1455: Fondmort's win has warmed this heart. He has got me out of a few holes in the past and deserves this win at the big one.

1450: The stairway dwellers are here again, refusing to be moved by stewards or the bracing wind.

1430: There is a new fad at Cheltenham for taking your drink to the toilet with you. Not sure what Dr Hilary Jones would make of it. Can't be good for the kidneys.

1337: Michael Dickinson has put his coat back on. Too cold for high fashion today. That's the first update with the new gloves. Money well spent.

1335: The gloves are on, the coat zipped up and I am on the march to the members' lawn. Managed to stand behind a man yesterday who stood up in his motorised cart to watch the race. Will try to avoid him today.

1330: Michael Dickinson has taken his coat off to receive the award for greatest ever training performance, voted for by readers of the Racing Post. He is wearing a pink shirt. Shoe-in for the best dressed now.

1325: The first race is approaching fast. Copsdale Lad my pick. Race only been going for two years so my stats in it aren't bad. Still seeking a first win though.

1320: A dash to the Centaur and back and the Jazz band are still there. Definitely a week-long booking. Mike, the Barnsley-based trumpeteer, was on trombone today. He has the sort of musical versatility that I so sorely lacked.

1310: Another loser. Had Paul Carberry down as outsider of three for the Wednesday Guinness Award but just seen him collect it.

1305: Don't want to become bogged down in the recorder club all afternoon but to answer another email I never progressed beyond a descant recorder. I did play the clarinet for three months in the third year and while I couldn't never master Stranger On The Shore, I can knock out a haunting rendition of Bright Eyes.

1250: Alarmed to have received an email which had my former headmaster's name in the subject. I wish to make it clear that I thoroughly enjoyed my time in the recorder club but simply felt a more adventurous schedule of outdoor concerts could have benefitted teacher and pupils alike.

1240: I have just suffered a humiliating setback. The scores for day two of the press tipping challenge have just been posted with Dave Ord sitting top with +£26. I couldn't remember what I'd selected but began to strut round like a particularly plump peacock. However an admin error was soon spotted and a different Dave is now acredited with the highest score. Apparently this one was -£7.

1225: I now get the impression the Bass brand replacements are a school orchestra or students. Not a bad gig. Never got further than a solo in assembly when part of Mrs Burhouse's recorder club at my high school.

1210: Just discovered I am on Man On The Spot duty for tomorrow. Not good news for anyone.

1150: Nearly made a grave mistake. Thought they had some mittens in the Best Mate range but they turned out to be socks. Stuck to the gloves and pleased with them. However since the purchase the sun is shining and the temperatures rising. Will wear them nonetheless.

1115: I am going to the tented village to buy some gloves. Will stick them on my expenses form too. My fingers are my fortune this week.

1100: The brass band has gone. Replaced by a bigger group of various musicians and three female singers. They opened with Mustang Sally but I couldn't take my eyes of the gloves three of them were wearing.

1055: Everywhere I look there are people with gloves on. The stewards all have splendid black ones. May stick a fluorescent jacket on and head to their store room.

1045: If anyone is betting on the best dressed racegoer competition then former trainer Michael Dickinson is shortlist material. Positively dapper he was. His hair was superb too - lifted the crown with aplomb.

1030: You can say what you want about John Kettley but there is the odd flake of sleet in the air - if flakes are how sleet is best delivered. Carl Llewellyn is pleased it is sleeting. Think he may revel in the misery of others.

1000: Managed to sleep in today and as a result had a mad panic to get ready as the taxi driver belted out one of Beethoven's lesser known symphonies on the horn. Forgot the gloves and put on the stained slacks too. Shirt and tie combo at best questionable. There's a best-dressed racegoer competition too. May just miss out.