A night at the races

I returned from Friday’s night at the races with a cold, blisters on my feet and a lighter purse. The cold and blisters were, I believe, caused by my pursuit of glamour despite the intemperate weather. The lighter purse was due to a number of factors, including gin, Pimm’s and having to buy my own ticket.

I don’t normally pay to go racing on the night before the Northumberland Plate – my mate usually provides me with free tickets. Somewhere along the line, we managed to cross our wires and he got me tickets for Plate Day itself. Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to go racing two days in a row – especially with jugs of Pimm’s (or should I say jugs of fruit and ice with a trickle of Pimm’s) costing £15 a shot. One of my friends was determined to drink champagne because she felt her usual pint wouldn’t complement her dress; she saw the price of the champers and stuck to lager.

Jump racing is my sport of choice, so each time I go to a flat meeting, I am bowled over by the Munchkin-esque stature of the jockeys. I am not terribly tall and I did have 3.5in heels on, but these guys barely reached my shoulder. I wonder how many of them are the equivalent of a female size zero and how many eating disorders are hidden under the brightly coloured silks? I wonder if the thrill of galloping home ahead of the opposition makes it worth missing your dinner. I contemplated this as I paid for my Indian takeaway on the way home.

A spring soirée

The day of what was to be M&M’s spring garden party dawned, just like in all the best books, bright and beautiful. I lay in bed, picturing it: nice things to nibble, jugs of Pimm’s, Amy Winehouse on the stereo and the sunshine casting an evening glow over the fields.

It was T-shirt weather when Mum and I left to drive along the A1 to the town up the road where it’s always at least two degrees colder. We wore jumpers just in case, but the glorious spring weather had made the temperature there more than commonly tolerable.

The town may suffer from a lack of warmth, but it makes up for it by stocking ‘posh’ food that only appears in the village during the summer to cater for the tourists. Rocket, radishes, couscous – and a dress – were duly purchased. After an internal tussle, I managed to tear myself away from the dragonfly fairy lights that would have sparkled so fetchingly in the tree.

But the weather, which had promised so much in the morning, withdrew its support. The sky turned grey, a chill crept into the air, and while the rest of the country basked in the heat, my plan of a party on the patio lay in ruins. The Pimm’s coped with the transition indoors and Amy Winehouse was exchanged for The Return of ‘Allo 'Allo on TV. I’m sure my plans for an outdoor spring soirée will return too – maybe next week…