And They're Off and Racing
What does a gold fish bowl full of Moet, a day at the races and a citizen’s arrest have in common? Don’t ask, just read.
Oh my giddy up!! I know it’s been a few weeks since my last column but I have been turribly busy you see.
In between Joan Rivers and all her end of school hi jinks and me blessing the radio waves of Melbourne with my blood curdling voice, I have had lots of dos, don’ts and meetings but still squished in a couple of days at the races. It’s Spring in Melbourne my friends and that means great days with beautiful friends, sore feet, sore heads, and I heard that horses also run around a track or some such.
Before you start quizzing me for hot tips, I am a nuffy when it comes to horse racing. I know very little about it despite being a part-owner of a horse. By part-owner I mean 3/5 of 5/8 of sweet FA, but as is usual with me, it’s more about being involved.
There is one day of the year where I assign myself an RDO and I tottle off to the track for a bit of girly time in a marquee, where its sole purpose is to refresh it’s guests with hot and cold running Moet.
What could possibly go wrong?
Let’s just say that at the ripe age of 48 there are some skills in life that I am yet to master. Learning when to say, ‘I have probably had enough’, is something I am still coming to grips with.
Lucky for me I am surrounded by gorgeous girlfriends who have my best interests at heart and ensure my well-being at all times. Unlucky for me that they are all two pot screamers. So can I rely on them really? Probably not.
We always start off ‘best in show’, primed, plucked and perfumed ready for an elegant day out. However when your regular lunch consists of a tin of tuna and a handful of almonds, you really need to think through the consequences of swapping this out for gold goblets of Moet (I will get back to these bloody goblets shortly) and a thimble-sized sushimi of kingfish on a pooncy pandan leaf. Your body will either go into shock, sending you careering for the platter of chicken sandwiches to help cushion the fall, or it will give you Herculean super powers, making you think you can drink without sustenance ALL afternoon.
I don’t need to give you elevator music and ten seconds to guess which category I fall into.
In my own defence, (here she goes) I can’t eat chicken sandwiches on account of my gluten-free pescatarianocity, so I had to settle for the sashimi, smoked trout on activated charcoal crackers and stalking the oyster shucker. I think there was a noodle some’n, some’n later on in the afternoon that I did eat, but by that time the horse had well and truly bolted (did you see what I did there?).
My super powers allow me to do amazing things:
Talk to complete strangers
Have an opinion on global politics
Create life-long friendships based on the other person’s choice of shoes, dress, handbag and long-wearing brand of mascara
Dance endlessly in 6 inch stilettos
Go and make friends with Natalie Bassingthwaite (like the poor girl hasn’t been put through enough with Dr Karl)
Take it upon myself to restore the self-esteem of every woman within arms reach because we are all ‘bootiful’ and ‘I wuv you’
It would be fair to say that if I was a super hero I would be known as Wander Woman. I love having a wander and a chat. It really shouldn’t come as a surprise to me that I have ended up on radio.
Anyhoos back to the Bloody Moet Gold Goblets.
It was all going along swimmingly well. I had managed to find that elusive state where I had been refreshed enough to allow Wander Woman to make an appearance, but keep it together and not make a complete git of myself….until.
I won’t say it wasn’t me who came up with the idea, but I won’t admit to it under oath either. During a well-timed group trip to the loos, the girls and I decided that this was the year we were going to secure a set of Bloody Moet Gold Goblets as our ‘gift with purchase’. If you are not familiar with a Bloody Moet Gold Goblet, see exhibit ‘A’ below.
Isn’t it sparkly and intoxicating? No really, two full glasses of these babies and you are three sheets my friends.
We had our very technical escape planned. Sarah stuck one down her top giving her a convincing uni-boob situation, Maria tucked one under her dress, who is 52 kg so it didn’t look obvious at all, and I had managed to squeeze one into my handbag. I was sure that the ill-conceived plans of my associates would be enough of a distraction to allow me to slip past the 19 year old WAG on the door and make haste for the taxi rank, Bloody Moet Gold Goblet and all.
Sarah and Maria were immediately pulled up, but being lawyers argued the human rights infringements of being asked to extract a Bloody Moet Gold Goblet from their person, while I sashayed out and made my way for the exit.
I had done it! I had managed to liberate a Bloody Moet Gold Goblet, for it to be forever mine and a reminder of the power of Wander Woman.
Behind me I could hear hastened clacking heels that for some reason told me it was time to canter (look at me go with my equine references). I quickened my stride only to hear a faint ‘excuse me madam’. That only infuriated me more of course. What was I, 85?
I broke out into a fully fledged run to the cries of;
‘Stop! You, in the tragic middle-aged woman’s costume!'
I can only imagine the scene as I streaked along while being chased down by Little Miss Brownlow.
That little So’n’So is clearly better at running from the scene of a crime in heels, because she caught me. To the disappointment of the crowd, now formed on the deck of the Stella Artois marquee, she didn’t knock me to the ground and slap on the cuffs, but made a citizen’s arrest and insisted I open my handbag.The Golden Light of Atlantis burst through and streamed to the heavens - I was busted.
There was only one thing left to say.
‘Oh gosh, how in Alibaba and the Forty Thieves did that get in there?’ ;)
Love and kisses,
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