Horses and win-bets, bulls and fish-nets
The races, and post-races, were really good.
General ‘at the races’ observations: Lots of ordinary people making an effort to dress smart. Some getting away with it. Many ladies – young and old – wearing a lot of make-up – much fake tan, much orange skin, some orange cleavage. Some ladies’ faces, cleavage and legs actually matched. Men in suits. Old suits. Rarely worn suits. Shirt top buttons open. Lager. Long queues for the toilets. Crowds, big crowds. In Uttoxeter!?! A few minor celebrities – horse racing and gambling pundits, a soap actor, and a former snooker player. Fine weather, bit fresh. Horses impressive. Short round track. With small fences. Attractive setting for racecourse. Spotted a student who I used to teach – looking gorgeously buxom, with orange cleavage. More lager.
Personally relevant observations: Our party all seemed well. Old pal GayFranglaise concerned me briefly – I suspect the broadly unreconstructed hetero male aspect of the event was not so winsome. However, his guest for the day – LadyFranglaise – was on very good form. I’d not spoken with her much before, however, her sociological analysis of the event was an instant entertaining hit. Like Brother Wexford said “It’s stupid going to the races expecting to make money – it’s just a good day out”. I made an £80 profit – which for a small fish like me was bloody marvellous. StatBoy had a lot to do with that – his pointing out trainer and jockey form was crucial. Was invited to the bull-running event in Pamplona for an EmmaFriend fiancé’s ‘stag do’. Baffled. Touched. Brother Wexford and EmmaSister got on very well. Lager. Champagne. Almost too well for comfort. They are both ‘otherly involved’. Unsustainably in at least one case. ‘United in drunkenness’. Their evening ended with a game of truth or dare. An extract of that as was reported by Emma (source: EmmaSister)…
EmmaSister: So what’s the strongest drug that you’ve ever taken?
Brother Wexford: (straight-faced) Coffee!
I am told that such effortless one-liners prove that he is a very cool person. I accept this. Though his blatant salivation at the EmmaSister was painful viewing for self. That said, she was hardly offended by it.
Of Friday’s five predictions of post-races comments, this is how I fared:-
“Your brother has such a deep voice” [Correct]
“How come your brother’s so tall?” [Words to that effect]
“His accent is so much stronger than your’s - I think I got about every third word” [Correct]
“Your brother seemed to be doing well – how much did he win?” [Wrong – his primary interest lay elsewhere – see above]
“So Shane, how much did you lose altogether?” [Wrong – my lucky underpants worked]
A sober interest in GayFranglaise, LadyFranglaise and StatBoy – not to mention a quite indecent interest in the gorgeously fish-netted Emma - ensured that I didn’t quite reach the point of impromptu vocal performance.
I love travelling, but I do wonder about being gored to death.
General ‘at the races’ observations: Lots of ordinary people making an effort to dress smart. Some getting away with it. Many ladies – young and old – wearing a lot of make-up – much fake tan, much orange skin, some orange cleavage. Some ladies’ faces, cleavage and legs actually matched. Men in suits. Old suits. Rarely worn suits. Shirt top buttons open. Lager. Long queues for the toilets. Crowds, big crowds. In Uttoxeter!?! A few minor celebrities – horse racing and gambling pundits, a soap actor, and a former snooker player. Fine weather, bit fresh. Horses impressive. Short round track. With small fences. Attractive setting for racecourse. Spotted a student who I used to teach – looking gorgeously buxom, with orange cleavage. More lager.
Personally relevant observations: Our party all seemed well. Old pal GayFranglaise concerned me briefly – I suspect the broadly unreconstructed hetero male aspect of the event was not so winsome. However, his guest for the day – LadyFranglaise – was on very good form. I’d not spoken with her much before, however, her sociological analysis of the event was an instant entertaining hit. Like Brother Wexford said “It’s stupid going to the races expecting to make money – it’s just a good day out”. I made an £80 profit – which for a small fish like me was bloody marvellous. StatBoy had a lot to do with that – his pointing out trainer and jockey form was crucial. Was invited to the bull-running event in Pamplona for an EmmaFriend fiancé’s ‘stag do’. Baffled. Touched. Brother Wexford and EmmaSister got on very well. Lager. Champagne. Almost too well for comfort. They are both ‘otherly involved’. Unsustainably in at least one case. ‘United in drunkenness’. Their evening ended with a game of truth or dare. An extract of that as was reported by Emma (source: EmmaSister)…
EmmaSister: So what’s the strongest drug that you’ve ever taken?
Brother Wexford: (straight-faced) Coffee!
I am told that such effortless one-liners prove that he is a very cool person. I accept this. Though his blatant salivation at the EmmaSister was painful viewing for self. That said, she was hardly offended by it.
Of Friday’s five predictions of post-races comments, this is how I fared:-
“Your brother has such a deep voice” [Correct]
“How come your brother’s so tall?” [Words to that effect]
“His accent is so much stronger than your’s - I think I got about every third word” [Correct]
“Your brother seemed to be doing well – how much did he win?” [Wrong – his primary interest lay elsewhere – see above]
“So Shane, how much did you lose altogether?” [Wrong – my lucky underpants worked]
A sober interest in GayFranglaise, LadyFranglaise and StatBoy – not to mention a quite indecent interest in the gorgeously fish-netted Emma - ensured that I didn’t quite reach the point of impromptu vocal performance.
I love travelling, but I do wonder about being gored to death.
posted by Shane @ 11:32 pm
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