We went to the horse racing at Windsor Royal Race Course today with some friends - first time I have ever been to a horse race, race track, or anything like it really. W looked after betting on the races, and we came home a little better off than when we arrived. More to do with luck than any grand system.
There are more photos on Flickr - just click here!
After very little consideration, I don’t think I’ll ever be going to a horse race again - or at least, not to watch or bet on the races. Half an hour between races, for perhaps 1 minute of race. I ended marvelling at the machinations required to make horse racing possible at all - owners, trainers, course owners, book makers, public relations, marketing, catering, and of course the public.
It struck me during the day that there are three distinct types of race goer - the great majority are the normal people - you and I - who are there for a rather odd day out. The next minority are the gambling addicted, who throw their life away in much the same manner as people who play poker or blackjack. The final group are the chattering classes, who arrive in suits, gowns and big hats to quaff expensive bubbly wine and throw money like so much confetti at a trainer’s horse they like to think they know something about.
Forgive me if I have a chip on my shoulder about social etiquette, and any vestige of class system. It reminds me of the various eschelons that appear to exist within the parents at school. Why do people do that? Why do they coalesce into cliquey little groups of snotty or enraged idiots?
I have no time for it. I’m usually too busy trying to make a living - to support my family. Perhaps the John Lennon quote about life is true (I’ll leave you to look it up).