'When you're dead and buried the only things you're remembered by are your Classic winners'

It's late morning and Richard Hannon is sitting in a comfortable armchair in the well-appointed owners' room at Herridge Stables when he feels the need to communicate. He reaches a few inches to his right, with a well-practised manoeuvre, and dings the bell that sits on the little table next to him.

It is one of those little dome-shaped numbers that you find on the reception desk of old-fashioned hotels and its ding brings with it a sense of anticipation as to whom it might summon, why and how quickly.

The mystery is soon solved. In a matter of seconds, Laura from the main office walks in, briskly and efficiently, carrying the first gin and tonic of the day, fizzing merrily in the glass. She's officially a racing secretary but equally skilled as a cocktail waitress it seems, and unfazed by the need for such diversification.