Walthamstow

Gone to the Dogs

Dog tracks are sprinkled in and around London’s suburbs. Catford, Wimbledon, Romford. But the ace in the pack is Walthamstow.

Its Art Deco front rears up, painting the sky red with its giant neon greyhound. Unless your from the east or into your betting then you probably haven't been to Wathamstow let alone the track. But if you visit the dogs it will be a night to remember. If you're up at the end then you’ll be back if not it’s less than a dead cert.

Hare down on the Victoria line and it’s only 45 minutes from Oxford street. Hop in a Joe and you're there.

Pulling off the road and up to the stadium you’re confronted with two entrances. Old boys veer off to the right. The flasher East Enders done up to the nines filter to the left. If you’re here for fun move in their direction and you’ll soon be sucked into the luxury of the main enclosure.

It’s got everything you need for a classic night out. A restaurant, trackside betting, a tote, table betting, seats, stands and above all else a bar and a cheap one at that.

In order to sample the fun, a queue is nothing to worry about. Relax and breath in the surroundings. I can think myself there right now. What a night. Surrounded by sharp suits and small shiny shoes. The ladies dresses and high-heeled shoes a sharp contrast to the cold night air. The first thing that you notice is that there is a lot of gold about. Watches, Chains, necklaces and above all rings. Huge great things on the fists of the men, rings with names or coins, to impress and to damage. Multiple bands on the talons of the girls.

Move through the turnstile and in I go. Like any arena there is an air of excitement. You. can feel it, almost smell it. Better than football this though. Here, I’ve come to bet. Nothing beats a flutter especially if you win.

Everyone’s got their ideas about how to pick a winner. Study the form. Study the dog. Watch the bookies. Watch the punters. Look at the odds. Follow the Tick Tack.

Some bet at the start.

Some wait until the last second.

The more desperate or those who believe in a set ritual are prone to bet on any dog that has a dump as it walks round the track.

Then there’s the systems.

Bet on every race doubling up if you lose. Always go for the second favourite. Can’t lose. Yes you can. In fact you almost certainly will.

Still there’s a chance, a hope. Bound to win the next race or the next until there are no more dogs to run.

If there is a method, apart from being lucky then this is it. Get a tip simple as that. The only problem now is which tip and on which dog.

Tips can be fake but some are real. If you can sort through the lot and choose the right one then you're in with a chance.

My tips come from a man lets call him K.

You can find him there every track night. He’s a Walthamstow boy born and bred. His likes are simple betting, winning and fast dogs. He’s got a couple that he races enabling him to check out the talent and know more than most what’s going on. But mainly he just bets. Only on a couple of races each night and only when he’s certain. Then he’s in, always £500 or more.

This is the way to bet if you don’t want to bankrupt yourself. A constant stream of bets is fun but the odds are always against you. A couple of informed big bets and you move the odds more into you're favour.

He knows his stuff. Six tips he gave me, Five won and the other came second. Money on every race.

K had bet on only two races £500 to win and £700 to win, both came up. he must have been about 2 grand up. If only I had bet more. Watch out for that or it will come back to haunt you. Simple as that.

Good Luck though and if you see someone betting large maybe stick a fifty on that hound as well.

Its got to be better than going for a name that you like.

The End

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