We were living in Melbourne, my best friend Sue flew down from Sydney for a spectacular day. As an aside, she had just had fake nails put on, very cutting edge then, unfortunately when she was putting away her cabin luggage they all shot off and flew around the plane. As they were quite exe she asked her fellow travellers to have a captains. The response wasn't great.
We were meant to arrive in great style at the cup, a friend had organised a helicopter, tickets to the members and champagne all round. Sadly, the helicopter pilot had a heart attack the night before, no grand entrance.
We were totally frocked up for the day. High heels, gorgeous dresses, mink coat (it was the eighties) and pearls. Typical Melbourne weather it was freezing and pouring.
Mark very kindly offered to drive us there. The traffic was horrendous, it took an hour to travel about one kilometre. So he got jack of it and turfed us (horsey term) out at the furtherest most point of the track. We ended up at the stables. High heels, mud and horse pooh not ideal.
We finally made it to the bookies and put on some bets. Between us Sue and I had every horse in the race. Mark had one.
No member's tickets, we spent the day with our backs to the track holding on to the wire mesh looking in at the members.
Finally the big race, Sue and I couldn't see a thing so we went and watched it on tele in the loser's bar and had a pie. Whoopdy doo.
Our main horse carcked it mid race, Mark's won. We then had to find the bookie to get Mark's winnings, he was closer to the next suburb.
Sue and I caught a train home and had maccas. Mark did take us out for dinner with his winnings but we were still stuffed with fries.
Haven't been to the Cup since.
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