day 1 - back spasms and tank tops

1800: Day one is over. The jumper is covered in beard dandruff, the feet are sore and I've just suffered a back spasm. A replacement may be needed for Gold Cup day.

The evening will be spent working out tomorrow's action. I have two for the Coral Cup so far and have only looked at three horses in it. I will be praying for a dead heat.

The ground has dried out to good to soft, soft in places for tomorrow and more wall-to-wall sunshine is forecast.

I have learned two things today. Don't wear blue shirts when it's warm and Nicky Henderson's horses are in cracking form again at the Festival.

Please feel free to use both obervations to your own benefit.

The slow punishing climb back home now awaits. I'll be back at 10 in the morning, back permitting.

1735: Confirmation it if be needed that I am walking back. These last few moments of warm, seated comfort need to be savoured.

1730: Two good results for the punters in the last two apparently. Not for this one. Still, you can't be greedy.

1725: Just spotted Padraig Harrington. Quite pleased with that.

1720: It's now cold. Coat is on as well as the jumper. I am very concerned for vest man.

1645: To answer another email foot gloves are a popular shoe sold by one leading high-street retailers. They suit the wide foot.

1640: I now can't get a taxi back to the three-storey bunglow (house) tonight as I won't be ready in time. The thought of walking back has caused this once-proud man to shed a tear. Time for another lucozade tablet.

1625: I used to go out to the centre of the track to watch the cross country race but ruined a lovely pair of foot gloves doing so last year. Not this time thankyou.

1620: Sorry for the sporadic recent updates. Just had bangers and mash. I'd gone light-headed after the lucozade pill wore off.

1600: Only two of my nominations made it. Robert Thornton missed out. Don't know what he did to upset the other judges. Perhaps it was the flag.

1550: Just made my nominations for the Guinness Awards. Will be very disappointed if at least two don't get through. Make that disappointed and angry.

1545: The sun is now behind clouds and the topless sailor's nowhere to be seen. At last the jumper is attracting envious glances.

1535: I've just found one for the County Hurdle on Friday. Sublimity has 10-13 to carry. Bit more than I would like but there are encouraging reports about his current wellbeing.

1525: Well I never saw that coming, but someone clearly did. Robert Thornton has been outdone in the flag stakes. There is a real whopper awaiting Sublimity - and it's got his name on it too.

1505: Champion Hurdle time. A vintage renewal. Very hard to split the front two in the market but after My Way de Solzen the pressure is off. So sadly is the man's white vest.

1455: There is a growing danger of exposed flesh at the Festival. As the day progresses one or two of the younger racegoers are shedding layers. I'm very concerned by one man in his 20s who is now only sporting what I can best describe as a white vest and half-mast jeans. It looks like a cry for help to me.

1450: My neighbour is going to be furious. Robert Thornton seems to have stolen the England flag he likes to wave from the window for all international rugby matches. Quite pleased if he has. It does nothing for house prices.

1445: Some horse that My Way de Solzen. First winner for yours truly. I'm going to celebrate the only way a young man about town can. With an instant coffee.

1435: Another inaccurate piece of reporting. You can't be over 14 stone if you want to parachute. Which I don't.

1425: The emails are trickling in. Apparently I suggested I was going to have my "naval" pierced earlier. Thanks to Jolyon Greene for pointing out that would involve inserting an anchor somewhere delicate. Also Charlotte, Ruby and Pipsweak want me to airlift over some champagne to their place of work in Bishops Cleeve. That I can't do. Apparently there is a 14 stone limit on helicopter passengers. Otherwise I'd have been only too happy to oblige.

1415: Told you I'm some tipster. That's the last piece of advice leaving this keyboard over the next four days.

1330: I'm now going to attempt to watch the first from the members' lawn. I've been practising my sidestep for the stewards, who are making my life very difficult. The plan is to feign to the left and step to the right. Or is that the Time Warp?

1315: 45 minutes to the first race. Quite sweet on Hide The Evidence but haven't backed a Supreme Novices' Hurdle winner since the late 1980s. They were good times.

1310: Charlie Swan's hair is now very long and I am afraid to say untidy. Will Hayler launched an attack on the standards of male grooming on show at the track earlier. He now has my full support.

1305: The poets have gone, the stage is now empty and the natives are restless. Perhaps I could entertain them with Bright Eyes on the clarinet? It's never failed to please so far.

1300: The green team have been deployed but maybe not the crack outfit I envisaged. Their job is to prevent people from taking drinks out of designated areas. They're wearing beany hats now.

1245: Simon Holt told me of the time he entered the press v jockeys hurdles race at Cheltenham. They covered a circuit of the track, jumping six hurdles. Apparently he flew the second last, taking lengths out of Peter Scudamore, only to tire badly up the hill and finish last. He's clearly worth watching out for on a sharper track.

1225: Just been given a complimentary glass of champagne which I have wolfed down as I need to go to see Simon Holt. Now have very bad windypops.

1220: The Centaur is bopping away to a Folk band who are going down a storm. The lead singer, bald and short, is urging us all to "shout for Johnny The Gypsy" while hitting a tin lid with a hammer. Think he may have taken a lucozade tablet this morning too.

1210: There's a Lloyds Pharmacy on course which seems well stocked. The guy who went in before me came out with some Herbal Essence shampoo and Lynx Africa deodrant. It seems he too may be suffering from back sweat.

1200: The nerves are setting in. I'm 20 minutes away from heading to the top of the grandstand to interview Simon Holt. I'm no good with heights. When I went to the Empire State Building I had a funny turn and was led back inside by an elderly lady who was four feet tall. Don't think she's here to save me this time.

1155: Charlie Chaplin is here but he's not very good as he's talking. It was all quite surreal as he was advising someone on the quickest way to get to Bristol. He needs to get back in character for me.

1150: I've just seen a Charlie Chaplin lookalike out there meeting and greeting the public. I'm heading off to the medical centre for a blood test. I must be tripping on lucozade.

1145: My girlfriend Nina will dump me if I wear a tank top so my latest fashion experiment is off. Wonder what her thoughts on navel piercings are?

1140: The poets have now been joined on stage by a woman on stilts dressed in Elizabethan costume. I'm going to sit down.

1135: I hope it was only a lucozade tablet I took earlier. I've just seen three poets reading out their work on the community stage. One, a middle-aged guy wearing a tartan jacket, read out his piece reflecting on the court case Bono won in Ireland last year to retrieve some clothing from a former employee. He labelled it a great day for justice and it began "Hosanna, let's all rejoice". Think he was being ironic.

1130: My roving may be limited. I'm not allowed on the members' lawn and can only access the press room via one staircase, the least convenient. I fear I may have upset the stewards.

1115: Wish I'd never worn my jumper. It has to stay on now. I have seen countless people wearing tank tops in the last 10 minutes too. They are covering their back sweat but have freedom in their arms. May well buy one although I have only just got into cardigans. It may be a move too far.

1110: Jumper back on. Someone just pointed out my blue shirt is damp at the back. It seems the camp jog has triggered the first sweat of the Festival.

1100: Jumper off. I feel so free, at one with nature. Just entered a contest to win a weekend for two at the K Club. They probably wouldn't let me in wearing a jumper.

1055: It's so warm I'm tempted to dispense with the black jumper I am sporting. It's a magnet for beard dandruff after all.

1050: Don't know if they're expecting trouble but a posse of security guards with "green team" on their jackets have walked past. They looked of millitary stock. Clearly the SAS of crowd control.

1045: The decision to walk here was the wrong one. Whoever told me it was a 20-minute walk should be targeting London 2012. It took me 50 minutes and I got a lift for the first half mile. I even burst into a camp jog at the fear of being late. I breezed past a young mother with a pushchair only to suffer the shame of being headed by the same person five minutes later as I tired badly up the hill.

1030: I haven't been asleep - just offline owing to technical problems. Wee still green but at last I can work.

1000: Welcome to a sunny Cheltenham. The Festival hasn't started well for me. Owing to a bed crisis at my three-storey bungalow (house) I'm sharing a double bed with a fellow male. Good friend he may be but he hogs the duvet and snores. I was awake by 6am. I then took, at his suggestion, a lucozade energy tablet. As a result my lips are now white and my wee bright green.