One year ago today, I went to Royal Ascot for the first time. I... got... how do I put this delicately?... Full-on, rip-roarin' stupid drunk. This time, I was determined to make it a day to remember. I mean that literally. Actually remember it, I'm saying. I have no recollection of last year once that third bottle of Veuve was popped.
However, last year we did Ascot the posh way. There was a lunch set up for us at real tables with proper linens and real glasses and we had assigned seats on the concourse. This year, we booked with a travel event company and had to juggle our plates of cold finger food in one hand while holding a plastic cup of champers in the other and fight for a seat in the "unreserved" area. Shudder. How I do dislike mingling with the commoners. Also? I know it would be a classy affair when I saw this:
And last year? Sunny skies all day. This year? The occassional downpour of rain. Sweet.
Which made the grass a big mushpot of... well... wet grass. This was more like Glastonbury. Should've worn our wellies.
All in all though, fun times had. And look! I'm conscious! Score one for me!
Come on Dover!
Ominous clouds looming over the course. We decided today that when something is "looming", it's never good. Nothing ever "looms" and then produces something nice. That word carries such a sense of foreboding.
Andrea and Teresa with their chips. I'm tellin' y'all. It was high class all the way.
Us in all our finery.