The last sporting intellectual pursuit..?

The last true sporting intellectual pursuits in the world are 1) chess and 2) The Races.

Who knew how important a spell could be? The difference between a stallion and a donkey on my booking card!

So much more to The Races than my previous brush of ‘prettiest jockey jumper’ (don’t hate on me – I was young).

Now the stakes are higher with a demand for discerning judgment calls on trainers, past performances, the weather, the starting stall, the word on the street…

And more than the gambling (don’t worry I am a “dollar each way” kinda girl. I am not advocating gambling with more than your money) there is the fashion, the energy, the attraction, the sparkling conversation—and the sparkling wine….

Sun is shining and there is a genuine respect for the occasion.  Yes we will wear our most delightful fascinators and custom-made hats. Yes men will wear jackets. Yes we are there to see horses.

Because The Races is more than a bar in the day: this a day that pulsates with the anticipation of the hard work, blood, sweat and tears of these horses and their entire entourage of cast and crew. Dapper gentlemen and stunning ladies, and all the genuinely good-natured fun that is conjured by the special magic on the field.

And  will wear our finest out to The Party at The Races.  

Eye-sex

In all fairness, the only way to impartially preface this narrative is to shamefully highlight that I was indeed, as it were, dancing on a steel, utility-type table at a backpacker’s bar at the time.

I believe this to be irrelevant: utility table or no, ridiculously hot European backpackers or no – Eye-sex really is a common assault in all realms of The Party.

You know the Eye-sex phenomenon I’m talking about, right? There you are, crumping, gettin’ down, minding your own business in your short shorts and then you accidently lock eyes with a random stranger.

I use the verb ‘lock’ in this instance as it really is a sudden trap in time.  You have been ‘locked’ because Mr/Ms Random Stranger already had you firmly in their sights. And then BAM – before you know it: Eye-sex.

There is the whole primal event in this oracular spectacular – seriously fast undressing, flimsy and brief attempt at vague foreplay, hard-hitting grinding and a champagne supernova. 

You break the eye impact and feel dizzy with the speed of the assailant!

But now you are in irrefutably critical danger.  For Eye-sex once – shame on you.  Eye-sex twice – you better hide in the bathroom, girlfriend!