Where we were sitting
What we were sitting under. We had a discussion this morning about what kind of trees they were – young oaks? Poplars?
Our tickets allowed us access to one of the stands and this is where we stood to watch the big race. The horses on the track are the first few runners for the Cup as they came out from the mounting yard.
It was a great day for people watching and listening. Tones of voices changed from composed and natural in the morning, to giggly and loose by lunchtime, when the alcohol started hitting bloodstreams. By the time the Cup was run we were standing in the rain, but with cheery drunks singing and clapping all around, it was impossible to feel grumpy. Things turned, as they do, once the Cup was over, and people were wanting to get home, when ankles started turning on unsteady feet (and high heels), and a lot of “Maaaaaaate!” and “I love youse!” etc. began. We did have one last piece of business after the Cup – to go back to the bookie to collect my grandfather’s winnings (2nd place). I stood in front of a man who took a phone call:
“Hey man, it’s fucking wet here.” Pause. “Yeah, but when it’s wet there it’s still warm. When it rains in Melbourne it gets fucking cold.” Pause. “I’m in line to get my Cup money.” Pause. “How much? Almost three grand.”
So he was going to collect a wad of notes, but first I was to step up and get my $13.75.
That kind of encapsulates the day for me: quiet, but satisfying.
The last two photos are courtesy of my aunt: my phone died. My horse came fifth.
