Tuesday 04 November 2003

Gamblin' fool

Today was the Melbourne Cup - the day that the entire nation of Australia, and the city of Melbourne in particular - stops for a horse race.  As I've mentioned before, I have an unbroken reputation for picking out (and sometimes actually making a bet on) the winners and place-getters of this and other big horse-races.  I go by form, by looks, by intuition.  And I always, always get it right.

But boy oh boy did I ever screw up this year.  I was certain sure of Mamool, Frightening and Distinctly Secret for wins and places.  So incredibly, deadly certain I went down to the local Pub-TAB (a place in which I have never set foot) and put down a fiver on each - my usual bet is 50c, if that's any indication!  There's some ready money, I figured, at least one horsie will come in somewhere in the first three, and Tux and I can go out to lunch or something.

So from 1200 hrs WA time I was glued to the TV, watching the horses in the mounting yard (and my fancies were looking good), going up to the gate, looking over my fancies and the other no-hopers ... And then the gates opened.  The crowd roared, the crowd cheered ...

... and fuckit was I ever screwed over.  Makybe Diva (owned by a South Australian fisherman so Aussie Aussie Aussie oy oy oy points there, at least) first, She's Archie (who?) second, and Jardine's Lookout in a photo finish third.  None of my three came anywhere near winning.  Mamool came fucking last, b'y.  ARGH. Talk about bitter disappointment, I tell ya.

There goes my reputation as a horse-racing and -tipping maven.  I think from now on its safer if I don't place bets ever again.  I mean, when I just pick out the winners in my head they all coming in one-two-three; when I put a proper bet down, nada niente zilch.  I'm a jinx on the race I tell you; so in the interests of the Melbourne Cup and the Australian people I hereby promise faithfully never to place a bet ever again.  (Mind you, I could get the bookies to pay me a commission to place bets, then they'd clean up bigtime ... hmmmm ).

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I've been reading sasha at Apropos of Nothing lately - the main journal bit as well as the food, cooking and cooking school bit.  No points for guessing which entries I like best?  Actually that's not fair as I really like the way sasha writes, I like her snarky spunky style and her commentary on matters social political life in general.  But the cooking stuff ... mmm.  As we all know I am in incredibly pig - I believe the term is gourmand - not just a gourmet (someone who knows about food) but someone who knows about food and just gets in there like a pig at the trough.  I really like eating but I think I actually like cooking just a little bit more.  Okay so that's totally the opposite of how it should be and how anybody else lives, but this is me, here.  And I love food, I love cooking for people and having them make appreciative noises and go back for thirds. 

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