Sunday, 2 November 2008
Eight-thirty the following morning found the two of us tucking into the “Big Breakfast” (Yours Truly) and Eggs Benedict (’Er Indoors) at the cafe down the street from the unit so that we could hot foot it back to base for Insiders on ABC1 (gotta get the latest slant on the forthcoming Presidential election, after all) and the 10:30 variant Offsiders where important financial matters would be under consideration.
Once every four years on the first Tuesday in November the world watches while the citizens of the United States bring a long and expensive process of elimination to a conclusion.
Most of Australia’s population spend the first Tuesday in November every year watching the conclusion of a long expensive process of elimination which sends a field of up to twenty-four racehorses to perform a figure nine in reverse around Flemington race course in the Melbourne Cup.
I was a sporadic watcher of Offsiders until a chance encounter with their Cup preview yielded the trifecta in 2005. Following the discussion on the program I came to the conclusion that while many people like Pop Rock, in my own opinion Delta Blues Maybe Better and that combination boxed in the trifecta returned $1100 thank you very much.
A sizeable chunk of the proceeds were invested in the wine fridge but I suspect that an annual investment of $30 for a box four trifecta and the same horses in the quinella will mean that for most of my remaining life-span Hughesy’s once a year punt will be carried out using their money.
And, yes, I do realise that an &1100 trifecta doesn’t go anywhere near replacing the departed dosh from a mostly disastrous twenty years on the punt up to Anzac Day 1995.
For the record, from the Insiders discussion I decided that a Mad Rush of Barbaricus could well be the Nom Du Jeu, but if it didn’t turn out that way C’est La Guerre.
C’est La Guerre was always likely to figure in calculations given it was the less fancied of the Lloyd Williams-owned runners and the fact that Fred Dagg once rendered the phrase C’est magnifique mais ce n’est pas la guerre into English as It’s magnificent but it’s not the railway station.
Anyway, once the Cup selections had been worked out the rest of the day could be spent quietly reading the Weekend Australian, doing a quick lap around Australia Fair shopping centre to obtain provisions and taking a phone call from my brother to discuss issues relating to the unit and other elements of my late father’s will.
Five-thirty found me engaged in dinner preparations so that I could get my fix of The Einstein Factor at half six and while away the time between the seven o’clock ABCTV news and the final instalment of The First Australians on SBS at eight-thirty before a slightly later than usual stagger into the cot, working on the principle that a late rise the next day would help fill in the waiting time before it was time to head towards Adelaide via Coolangatta Airport.