A day at the races

A day at the races. You’d think a classy affair, complete with glamorous outfits, pockets wedged full of crisp banknotes, champagne bottles in ice coolers by your feet, lots of polite chit chat about odds and form and the lie of the land…god to fair, damp to erm, stiff. You get the picture.

So we arrived at Sandown in our i-wags car (i-wags- insurance wives and girlfriends- AKA Steve’s work colleagues plus their girlfriends). It’s a little bit rainy, so my choice of white linen smock dress not necessarily the best, especially given the hour long journey which has left me creased beyond belief- where’s the gas powered travel iron when you need one? Being sensible and well seasoned drinkers, we decide to fill our tummies with some stodge in order to combat the early afternoon boozy wooziness, all well and good, except for my lunch consisted of several white wine spritzers….large, and some moderately picked at salad.

In we go- premier lounge, which means covered from the rain and not within spitting distance of anyone wearing jeans. It also meant the best selection of ridiculous oversized sunglasses and fake tans I have ever clapped eyes on. Not only that but I was also ‘lucky’ enough to be standing behind the ‘legend’ that is John Mccririck complete with giant cigar, purple troosers, his silly ear flaps hat and a serious case of the shakes. Of course at first I thought it was some joker in fancy dress with a spitting image rubber ‘John Mccririck’ head on until Steve pointed out demand for such a thing would be limited at best.

And so we gambled. Second race, we had a tip off on a dead cert. We should have known. A proper nag who pottered in 6th out of a line up of 7. So from then on I bet on the outsiders without a win of course and got gradually drunker and more annoyed. Steve on the other hand proceeded to bet on the favourites, winning paltry sums but at least breaking even by the end of the day. Ho hum. Through out the course of the day, Steve’s colleagues let slip about a whole host of travelling which he’d not quite got around to telling me about yet, no big deals, just a long trip to Russia and then Australia, oh, and New York early July. Having a super ambitious boyfriend is sometimes a little sad you know...I’m counting down the days till self actualisation and the opening of the dog sanctuary.A day at the races. You’d think a classy affair, complete with glamorous outfits, pockets wedged full of crisp banknotes, champagne bottles in ice coolers by your feet, lots of polite chit chat about odds and form and the lie of the land…god to fair, damp to erm, stiff. You get the picture.

So we arrived at Sandown in our i-wags car (i-wags- insurance wives and girlfriends- AKA Steve’s work colleagues plus their girlfriends). It’s a little bit rainy, so my choice of white linen smock dress not necessarily the best, especially given the hour long journey which has left me creased beyond belief- where’s the gas powered travel iron when you need one? Being sensible and well seasoned drinkers, we decide to fill our tummies with some stodge in order to combat the early afternoon boozy wooziness, all well and good, except for my lunch consisted of several white wine spritzers….large, and some moderately picked at salad.

In we go- premier lounge, which means covered from the rain and not within spitting distance of anyone wearing jeans. It also meant the best selection of ridiculous oversized sunglasses and fake tans I have ever clapped eyes on. Not only that but I was also ‘lucky’ enough to be standing behind the ‘legend’ that is John Mccririck complete with giant cigar, purple troosers, his silly ear flaps hat and a serious case of the shakes. Of course at first I thought it was some joker in fancy dress with a spitting image rubber ‘John Mccririck’ head on until Steve pointed out demand for such a thing would be limited at best.

And so we gambled. Second race, we had a tip off on a dead cert. We should have known. A proper nag who pottered in 6th out of a line up of 7. So from then on I bet on the outsiders without a win of course and got gradually drunker and more annoyed. Steve on the other hand proceeded to bet on the favourites, winning paltry sums but at least breaking even by the end of the day. Ho hum. Through out the course of the day, Steve’s colleagues let slip about a whole host of travelling which he’d not quite got around to telling me about yet, no big deals, just a long trip to Russia and then Australia, oh, and New York early July. Having a super ambitious boyfriend is sometimes a little sad you know...I’m counting down the days till self actualisation and the opening of the dog sanctuary.