Nothing shocks me anymore. But it came as a surprise to learn the BBC are dropping Sounds Of The 70s from their schedule. Been eight years, I reckon. I enjoy the research, and it's the closest I've come to having a proper job in 35 years, which hasn't done me any harm. Never say never, and Lewis Carney, who called to deliver the news, promised it hasn't actually been assigned to the annals of BBC History. We agreed that if and when the Beeb fancy re-incarnating the show, he'd get back to me. I'll miss it. Truth is, I sound like a mine of information on-air, but really I cram. Learn it all from copious reference books as I write, and most gets forgotten pretty soon after. Presenting radio is not unlike performing, which comes easy to me; always reaching out to perfect the impression of being relaxed. Recorded last show, for March 27th broadcast, last Friday. Then took in Peter Hall's re-vamp of Noel Coward's The Vortex at The Apollo. All that '20s flapper banter sounds dated, and the lines are not funny now. But it comes clamouring to life in the 3rd, last, act as the tragedy unfolds; as Felicity Kendall's Florence struggles to accept a) that she is not immortal, after all, and b) her errant son Nicky has a serious cocaine habit. Plus, he is gay! That role looks difficult, but Dan Stevens is terrific. For me, Phoebe Nicholls steals it.

Stay overnight to facilitate early arrival at BBC Television Centre in west London Saturday morning. On-air Live with Eamonn Holmes to talk racing in general, Cheltenham Festival in particular. Naturally, the UK tour dates come into discussions. On to Sandown Park, guests of Sunderlands Bookmakers, the sponsors of The Imperial Cup. They are attractively old-fashioned as contemporary bookmakers go, in that they are still a family company, run by the Denshams who started it way back. Sophisticated and generous hosts. Traditional, and personal. Calm in a frenetic Corporate world. I like that. Later in the week, Denman wins the Cheltenham Gold Cup like something very special. Big bets landed. Been losing lately, and that will put the wheels back on the bike, as J.P.McManus would have it.

It's 7 in the morning now. A pair of yellowhammers are pecking at the lawn. Long-tailed tit and robins seem so ordinary now these sensations have arrived. Didn't expect to have them visit. Nuthatch came by last week, fleetingly and nervously. We've got three cats, the mousers, so maybe he knew something.

Will miss researching for my old radio show. Can't deny it. Maybe we'll make a sensational comeback, hour-long slot to boot, later in the year. It's possible. Might come as a surprise, but that's all. Nothing shocks me anymore.

SH