2 January 2010

Day at the Races

In fine New Zealand tradition, we went to the New Year's Day races at Ellerslie. The last time I went was with Grandma and Mum, quite a few years ago. They were pretty au fait with the world of racehorses, as my uncle Jim and cousin Paul were once well-known jockeys in this country. At Grandma's funeral Jim (after a few stiff whiskies) recited to me the list of his horse-related injuries - a tableau of broken collarbones and crushed vertebrae. I was never a horsey girl (too timid) but I love watching them trip around the birdcage - that's the place where they walk around before the race and you can see them up close, all frisky and glistening. "Pick that one," said L, liking a horse called Mr Charlie. "Come on, Mr Charlie!" he bellowed, and Mr Charlie obliged by coming in second. We sat on the neatly manicured lawn and ate hotdogs. It was fun, and next year we'll go back properly equipped with umbrella, chilly bin, picnic, enormous hats, vast amounts of money and binoculars.


















Mum texted me today when I told her about the races. She was taught the art of texting by a pair of teenage boys from the local high school and I feel like I'm the nana instead, with my correct punctuation and fully spelled words. "I always liked d races," she said, "Used 2 go 2 d nite trots wif Gerald. Ur great grandma Hely was a great gambler on d gee gees!" Looks like it runs in the family...


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