Melbourne Cup

Here we are again- the race that stops a nation, The Melbourne Cup.

The Bride and I have only attended once and never again will we be so foolish. A group of us had decided to give it a crack and attend The Great Race but with the benefit of hindsight, I definitely believe alcohol was to blame for this decision.

We arrived in good time on Friday the weather was great as we wandered Southbank enjoying the beautiful balmy evening blissfully unaware of what was to come.

Next days girls were frocked up in their finery looking great in black and white and would not have looked out of place amongst Melbourne's finest ladies in the Birdcage at Flemington.

We headed off in a cab and what was a short distance took forever .

The kind cabby suggested that due to the traffic delays it would be quicker for us if he dropped us off at the next corner. We decided he was more interested in aborting the trip than our welfare.

We paid the Cabby and headed off towards the racetrack which turned out to be quite a stroll especially for the fillies in high heels.

After covering more distance than the Melbourne Cup itself we arrived at the main entrance and presented our overpriced tickets.

In we go, buy a couple of expensive race books and head the last 600 or so metres to the main grandstands.

It’s Derby Day and black and white is everywhere.

One of our very knowledgeable crew had done her research and as described on the packet a lovely exclusive area with bar and bookmakers in compound.

Eventually we found a roped of area at back of grandstand and to be fair there was a bar and a Bookie.

As it was now pissing down we looked for the expected Marquee but apparently someone had forgotten to order them!

There was a couple of token umbrellas but no where enough for the punters in our exclusive enclosure.

It was either stay here or bolt elsewhere. We left along with most of the now soaked folks in the exclusive enclosure.

We made it to an undercover bar at rear of grandstand and finally got a drink.

Our crew was scattered far and wide all out of contact.

Steve Butler the West Australians Melbourne sports journalist had strongly tipped a horse in race 4 which I intended to back at $4.

Unfortunately a pair of coat tuggers we met at Perth Airport had a share in two horses in the same race both a good chance they said.

One paying $40 the other $60 so you know what I do each way on the roughies of course.

No happy ending here Butler’s pick leads all the way and romps in. My picks perform as their price indicated.

As part of our wonderful package we had access to the grandstand to watch the horse racing.

We headed for the main grandstand but we’re turned away and pointed to another one in the distance.

When we arrived a few of our group were already there.

The grandstand was so far beyond the winning post it might as well be in the next suburb.

Anyway that’s the scene another 5 or 6 races more money lost we all decide to give race 10 a miss and head for exits and try to grab a cab.

Two hours pass, pissing rain, no cover, we grab a cab and head back to our hotel.

We shoot upstairs shower and change.

The Bride who has been complaining of sore feet checks her recently purchased shoes.

No wonder my feet hurt that st—— —ch at Myres gave me the wrong size!

Apparently The Bride had tried on a shoe in correct size from display however the shop assistant had retrieved wrong size from stock room and today was their first outing.

No wonder she pulled up lame.

I dropped my soaking suit at reception for dry cleaning for Cup Day.

After much back and forth with reception I eventually got my suit back Tuesday morning.

Cup day arrived stewards declared that The Bride was good to go.

Not falling for the taxi trap of the previous day we had organised a Limo and were soon on our way.

We had barely had time to finish our champagne before we arrived at Flemington.

Things were on the up.

We eventually found our exclusive venue in the bowels of the grandstand complete with a gaudy yellow paint job. We pooled some money and selected 4 horses a race for trifectas and after 10 races not even close.

But again we had access to our way after the winning post Grandstand. I am sure no one of our group of 10 came out any where near even for the day.

Nearly forgot it was raining again!

The key takeaway from all this as in life itself us mere mortals are only here to further enrich the wealthy.

Remember the three B rule that is the only certain winners from horse racing are

BREEDERS

BOOKMAKERS

BLACK HEARTED MIDGETS (Jockies)

It should have been a red flag to me when back in the day the bookies would rock up to the races in their brand new huge American mobile with huge boots to carry our cash away after the racing was done.

The Wellington Hotel had just had another makeover in the early seventies before it was Trafalgars{I just realised the connection}

It had been bought by a Bookmaker would you believe.

One day whilst playing pool at the refurbished Pub I ordered a middy (remember them) the barman was vertically challenged but poured an excellent beer.

Turns out he was an ex jockey.

Now here’s the interesting thing he rode for 20 plus years and never rode a winner!

Apparently his job was to do everything possible to ensure his Mount never won.

He was paid handsomely for this and was happy to share.

Years later another jockey, Danny Hobby, took it to the next level by jumping of the favourite at Bunbury.

THINK ON !!!