We have developed a growing New Year tradition based around a day at the races. Over the past few years, the morning of December 30 arrives and we pack up the car for the short drive to spend a couple of days with our friends, who live in the delightful Galmington area of Taunton.

In the evenings between Boxing Day and our Taunton trek, the WhatsApp group is buzzing with strategy:

‘I’m sticking to a limit of £5 per race’….a couple of wines later: ‘I’m going for a tenner on the first two and see where I’m at’….end of the bottle: ‘tenner per race, it’s Christmas!’

The reason for this exchange is that the highlight of our annual celebration is the traditional New Year’s Eve Eve race day in Taunton. The taxi is booked for 11am, we pile in, four adults and four kids, all ready for action.

As you approach the course, the steady flow of excitable tweed and knee-high boots becomes a swarm. Traffic is going nowhere, cabbie glances pleadingly to the left and we all agree to walk the last few hundred yards.

Stomping through the pre-paid gate, my mate (Dad A), who is the apparent racing expert among us, power-walks to the race card stand. My job, as Dad B, is to lead the kids on a determined walk to secure a benched table as close to the outside bar as possible.

Mum A and Mum B are responsible for acquiring stomach-liners in the form of bacon, bread and brown sauce.

The table is often a challenge but, like our betting approach, we have developed a cunning strategy. Even if all tables are occupied, racegoers are not a stationary bunch, bets have to be placed, drinks purchased, toilets visited.

So, we linger!

Lean on the edge of a table, place a plastic pint cup on the edge, the smallest offspring (Kid D) perches a cautious cheek on the furthest edge of one seat, Kids B and C gather around Kid D, who has control of the primary electronic gaming device, Kid A still not ready to break a smile on his teenage chops.

By the start of the first race, the table is ours and, at all times, half the tribe will remain in place to protect the fort. Drinks, bets, snacks, toilets, paddock visits are done in shifts.

The next four hours are brilliantly chaotic fun. None of us really know which horse to back, including Dad A and his trusty race card. It is pure luck, with selections quickly descending to the horse with the best name, fanciest jockey silks or just a lucky number.

It is, without fail, a great day out, and we have even repeated the trick with occasional non-New Year trips to Newton Abbot, Exeter and Wincanton. The arrival tactic, thankfully, works at all venues.

Apart from the joy of being around friends and family, it is the atmosphere that makes race day so special, the hum of anticipation, the sounds of society enjoying a day away from the pressures of work or school.

I know horse racing is popular all over the world but, a bit like summer afternoons on a village cricket field, it all feels beautifully British.

And the main event is the horse, this most magnificent of beasts. It doesn’t matter how many times we go to the races, when one of these glorious hunks of muscle stride by, we all stand in momentary awe.

You don’t need to be a horse expert to realise these animals are deeply loved and cared for by their owners, trainers, jockeys and, probably most of all, the humble stable staff, who will tend to their daily needs.

Today, the best of the best in this historic sport will gather at Aintree for the Grand National, a race steeped in tradition, a staple of the British sporting calendar.

A very quick Google suggests £300m of bets will be placed on the Grand National and the race will be watched by a worldwide TV audience of 600m. Those privileged enough to be on the hallowed track at Aintree will be treated to an extraordinary live spectacle.

The race itself is an absolute brute!

Horses and jockeys will take on 16 fences, 14 of which are jumped twice, along a course that extends beyond four miles. It is the ultimate test of stamina for runner and rider.

The race normally comprises around 35 horses and, very rough figures here, probably around half will make it to the finish, often less than that.

Mercifully, many of those horses that don’t finish will be pulled up by their jockeys. Some will unseat their jockey, gallop on for a bit longer before realising they’re no longer in the race.

Some, however, will never leave the track. Horses die in the Grand National, it is the tragic fact that goes alongside this sporting spectacle.

I remember, years ago, watching a big race on the telly, it was either the National or Cheltenham Gold Cup. In the build up to the race, the owners of one horse were interviewed and they were just a syndicate of ordinary people who had clubbed together to fulfil their dream of owning a horse.

Their excitement beamed out through the screen, you wanted their horse to win, a fairytale moment to be realised.

I followed their horse around the race and when it stumbled heavily over a fence, crashing to the ground with half-a-ton of force, you could just hear from the change of tone in the commentator’s voice that it was a bad fall.

The race continued, cameras panned away to the leaders, our fairytale horse remained on the ground.

For all their incredible power, muscle and stamina, racehorses have very delicate legs and when a leg bone is broken in a heavy fall, it is often shattered, making surgery and recovery impossible.

A fence is erected on the track and the horse is euthanized on the spot. It is the tragic consequence of this dangerous sport. Jockeys are also known to perish or suffer serious injury. Obviously, the key difference is that the jockey has chosen this way of life.

We can never know how a horse feels about racing but we do know, in general, they enjoy a wonderful life. There will always be some sad exceptions of horses not properly cared for but our human instinct to care for animals surely makes this very rare.

The average racehorse will be treated to an excellent well-balanced diet, given ongoing veterinary support, spending their days running through meadows, enjoying the primal joy of racing and being around other horses.

This is not an attempt to sound idyllic, just the reality. A horse that is poorly looked after would not have the strength to properly compete on a track.

Campaigners against horseracing, and specifically jump racing, highlight the number of fatalities suffered by the horses, the risk of injury being too great, horses whipped for better performance, uncompetitive animals culled and worrying reports about what happens to a horse after its racing days are finished.

For those of us who love horse racing, it would be incredibly ignorant and selfish to dismiss these concerns. The industry, which makes an awful lot of money from these fantastic animals, has a massive responsibility for their welfare.

The groups who oppose horseracing have raised awareness, forcing the industry to do more in the realms of horse welfare. Things like lowering fences have made a difference.

I very much doubt horseracing will ever be banned, too many people love it, too many livelihoods depend on it and, to put it bluntly, it makes too much money for anyone in power to seriously consider that option.

What we can consider is not discounting the views of those in opposition to racing. It’s a safe bet (forgive the rubbish pun) that many in the racing industry find these animal activists a ‘pain’ and their tactics can be occasionally dubious.

But, without their opposition, horse welfare would be in a poorer place.

They won’t achieve their ultimate ambition of banning the sport but they can remind those making huge wafts of cash from racing that their prime responsibility has to be horse welfare, and that includes horses no longer fit to race.

Today, we will marvel at these wonderful creatures and the skill of the jockeys steering them to glory, hopefully. It is possible to both love the Grand National and also believe in the importance of horse welfare.

And it is also possible, if you’re patient and persistent, to steal any table at the races.

Please leave your comments on our social media pages or you can email them to me on tim.herbert@newsquest.co.uk