Festival answer just blowing in The Mind.

THE Master Punter's winter is spent largely in self-renewal and contemplation. As snows engulf his mountain fastness, he adopts the Lotus position and, clothed in nothing but prodigious self-possession and a silken loincloth, ponders afresh the staggering enormities of the punter's life.

At such times few dare to guess The Wise One's thoughts. Do they turn to glories past or battles yet to be won? The acolytes, the dancing girls, the grape-peelers and the trainee sycophants can only gaze in wonder and whisper respectfully among themselves.

For months he keeps his counsel, accepting neither food nor drink; speaking to no-one; spoken to by none save the Senior Groveller, whose envied duty it is to read to him each evening, in a voice modelled on that of the late John Snagge, the day's results and, of course, the comments of this paper's dedicated and highly-skilled team of racereaders.

For months the routine remains unchanged. For months all those honoured with the right to remain in the presence tiptoe about timorously, like so many Burnsian mice. And then, as January draws to its unlamented close, a transformation occurs. The great head lifts.

The huge eyeballs, which have been turned in their sockets throughout the long period of his hibernation, resume position A. Like opening buds, the thumb and forefinger of each mighty hand finally move apart. As though a signal has been given, the lutanists strike up a plangent tune-and all who witness the wonder know The Moment is at hand.

This is, perhaps, the most exciting time of the year for the acolytes. Oh yes, Royal Ascot is important; Derby day, King George day, Arc day and the Breeders' Cup. Some swear by the time each year when the Wise One, borne aloft on an ornate litter once the possession of Le Roi Soleil, and on a path strewn with so many rose petals that the very air seems cloying with their scent, arrives at Doncaster for the start of the Flat.

But most of those close to him still insist that the annual moment of rebirth, when, like a magnificent butterfly from its chrysalis, he emerges anew to resume the ancient struggle against the forces of bookmaking and darkness, and, in a voice like rolling thunder, delivers his selections for the Champion Hurdle and the Gold Cup, is the most moving and inspirational of all.

As soon as the music begins, a great scuttling sound pervades the monastery- palace. Yak horns bellow forth from the ramparts to summon those who are without the walls. Then, only when the Great Hall is full and the Senior Groveller has ordered the massive bronze doors shut and bolted... The Wise One speaks.

SO it was earlier this week. We have no eyewitness accounts, for none but the initiated are permitted to be present, and many still mutter darkly about the appalling fate that befell a telephone tipster who once donned saffron robes and muesli-eater sandals in the hope of infiltrating the convocation. This unfortunate's mobile phone, battered Filofax and shredded Barbour remain nailed to the gates to this day as a terrible warning to others who might be tempted to repeat the outrage.

But after the ceremony is over; after the dancing girls have resumed their sacred duties; after the long fast is quite emphatically over, the Master's private office does invariably issue a communique; and, in accordance with the custom laid down after the time we were able to be of service in apprising him of the imminence of one of Barney Curley's cunning coups, it is this column's privilege to be the first to deliver his selections.

The communique runs as follows: "The Master began to speak at 3.15pm (Katmandu time). His remarks were wide-ranging and, of course, secret. His Cheltenham selections are: Champion Hurdle-Blowing Wind; Gold Cup-Unsinkable Boxer.

"Most unusually, because The Wise One sees no purpose in revealing his thought processes to those who are unqualified to understand them, he has condescended to provide some explanation for these choices. He is not entirely happy with Istabraq, because he believes an invincible champion should not have to be trained with one race alone in mind and is therefore of the opinion that Istabraq's trainer may himself be convinced that his horse is vulnerable. Take out Istabraq and this is an open race. Blowing Wind is trained by Martin Pipe and will be ridden by Tony McCoy. If for any reason Istabraq fails to perform, a reproduction of last year's County Hurdle form may be enough.

"The Master believes Teeton Mill will not stay and Florida Pearl will not jump round in the Gold Cup. Unsinkable Boxer may be an outstanding novice and his double-figure price still offers value. There will be no further communique. Message ends."