10 Nails painted red. 45 minutes and 21 bobby pins for my hair to be done. 1 phone call to the taxi company. 30 minutes waiting for the taxi. 2 more phone calls to the taxi company. 5 more minutes waiting for the taxi. $18 fare. $15 entry. 200 metres of walking to the pavilion whilst trying to stay upright in 3 inch heels. Thousands of people. One obscure friend. 2 champagnes. Countless photos. 3 single ladies on the prowl who found the hottest guy at the races (a RAAFie so it turns out). One well-dressed teddy bear named Kerrie. 8 blokes in powder blue safari suits, one of which is carrying a stuffed Alf toy in a baby sling. 1 bloke in a cream-coloured safari suit. 3 blokes in brown velveteen lederhosen. 1 bloke wearing a blonde wig and a black cotton lederhosen. 9 entrants into the best hat competition including one child. 10 entrants including myself in my heat of fillies fashions on the field. 10 in the following heat. 8 in the last heat. 6 finalists. One winner dressed similarly to my friend (except for the hat). 11 entrants to the mares fashions on the field. Statistics in Pip's words: 25% of people dressed in high end fashion. 50% of people dressed nice for the day. And 25% of people who should have reconsidered what they wore. 1 stockhorse race. 6 standard races. 10 trainers. 7 jockeys, 4 of which were female. 25 horses. Lots of drunk people. One bloke making a display of taking a piss on the race track... while there were numerous children around. 4 trashy women laughing about it. 3 single ladies that decided it was time to go home. 2 drop-offs in a taxi before my turn. $35 fare. One welcoming couch. Two sore feet. One throbbing headache.
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