I have only been to the horse races once in my life, and even that was too often. I spent the afternoon standing in a crowd about ten deep on the fences, then after hearing the thunder of hooves, trying not to get lost as my own mother made a desperate bee-line for the tote windows. I did not get within cooee of a horse all afternoon. I am telling you all this because my daughter and her husband went to the races at Royal Randwick on Saturday. And if you are at all aware of the year they have had, you will shout 'Hurrah'!!
Now the up-side is that I got to play with my grandaughter all day. What we did first took me right back to my daughter's teenage years: her room was splattered with clothing that did not make the cut-off. A dress draped here. Shoes scattered there. Hats perched here. A grand flummox of finery. Ally and I gathered all the discarded hats, and tried them on, one by one, before returning them to the hat box.