The Race that stops the Nation

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© irene waters 2017

Since the first race was held in 1861 the Melbourne Cup has been the single event that manages to stop the Nation from working. Productivity for that one hour in the lead up to the race drops as offices hold sweeps, bring out the bubbly, set up televisions. Most offices will give their staff the afternoon off so they can attend one of the many luncheons being held in every town in Australia. Women don their finery (estimated that a spend of over $50 million on fashion) as every woman has to have a designer dress, an elegant fascinator and shoes that you look at twice. Most women I would bet have no idea about the horses at all.

Once dolled up you attend one of these many functions. Those inside the barricade were served canapes and champagne (estimated that 25 million swimming pools of alcohol are consumed between breakfast and dinner on cup day). Outside were the plebs who either had to work, were tourists to town (this was the capacity we were in) or couldn’t afford the extremely high prices for being inside the enclosure.

Betting is essential (from 2015 statistics 1.5 billion dollars during the Spring carnival). I stopped betting when I won a small amount and never bothered to go and collect the winnings. If a sweep is going, however,  I will join in that. All the newspapers have sections devoted to the race and print colourful squares with the jockey’s pictures in the colours they will be wearing and sweep forms making running a sweep a simple procedure.

The race is run on the first Tuesday in November at 3pm (2pm in Queensland as we don’t have daylight saving thus protecting our curtains from fading). Because everybody has a horse they are barracking for (due to the betting) the tension is palpable. It is a race for 3 year olds and over and is run over 3,200 metres at Flemington Race course in Melbourne. It is Australia’s most prestigious race and is the richest two mile handicap in the world (probably because 99 % of Australia bet on it).

The crowd gathers.

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All eyes are glued to the big screen ….Waiting except for

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the pigeons that think all their Christmases have come at once with the extra food droppings all these people are generating.

Just before the race starts the man in the walker starts throwing his empty coffee cup at a man that stood in front of him, a second later he threw a bag of rubbish at another man who did not take to kindly tomato sauce remains on the back of his shirt. But

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if access to the screen is blocked tempers can flare. A lot can be riding on this race. Finally it starts. The fellow in the walker shouldn’t have bothered as those in the enclosure in their excitement stood and I imagine totally blocked his view.

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A horse won. I don’t know and don’t particularly care which but Roger told me it was a very exciting race. Some were excited – certainly the winner would have been with a prize of 6.2 million dollars. (They pay around 45,000 to enter this race and they have to qualify by entry in 4 other earlier races, also with hefty entry fees.

I’m afraid I am one of the less than 10% who doesn’t get carried away by this race that stops the nation and joins us in a nationalism that celebrates alcohol and gambling and I wonder what international visitors think when suddenly everyone is standing glued to a television.

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Leather: Tuesday’s of Texture

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Leather

once protected a living beast

but now for handbags, cases

shoes  and other  such stuff.

Sexual perversions often dress in leather

Leather was Suzi Quatro signature

Leather keeps the weather out

As well as being soft to the touch

Some is smooth and worn

Whilst others are dimpled

No matter how the leather is

It is its texture

that gets you pulling

money from your wallet —

Leather of course.

.

 

 

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Chatting on the Porch: 99 Word Flash Fiction

Mormor sat on the porch. The seat Morfar had occupied was vacant. Lillian didn’t remember her  grandfather but in her imagination Mormor’s hands intertwined with his, her eyes fluttering and hearts racing. As time past, their hands still held, the glances were loving and hearts beat in happy unison.  “Can I join you Mormor?” Her grandmother patted the seat and Lilian sat. She told her about her day at school and the stick insect she’d found on the way home.

“Who you talking to Lilian?” Her mother broke the easy rapport.

“Mormor.”

“Lillian love, she died twelve years ago.”

In response to Charli’s prompt where she asks:

November 2, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story a chair on a porch. Why is it there, and what might it mean? Think about using it as a prop or the main thrust of your story.

Respond by November 7, 2017 to be included in the compilation (published November 8). Rules are here. All writers are welcome!

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Weekend Coffee Share 4th November 2017

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Welcome and come on in. Let’s get settled with a cup of tea or coffee and then I’ll tray and remember the week I’ve had. At this point all I know is that it was without drama and enjoyable.

If we were having coffee I’d tell you that we have eaten out a lot this week. We took Mum to the Noosa Sailing and yacht club for lunch. It has to have one of the best views on the river. Oh to be a school girl now and be able to do sailing as an elective sport. All the little sailing boats were lined up in readiness for the school kids when I spied a boat sponsored by our local member of parliament. He is a good man but of a different leaning to myself so I had to laugh out loud when I saw the name of the boat the club had allocated his sponsored sail.

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Was this coincidental or was the sailing club giving a subtle message or simply having a laugh?

If we were having coffee I’d tell you that we also went out to Thai with friends, and ate at the RSL (Returned Serviceman’s League) which I joined this week. I was so impressed that they have offered our Toastmasters club a venue which they are not charging us for, because they see the skills gained by membership will benefit the community, that I felt I should give a bit back. We can’t afford to eat there too often though as although cheap to eat the meals are ginormous and we would put on weight I think very quickly. I grew up in a family where we had to finish our meal before leaving the table or more importantly getting dessert. Try as I can I still can’t leave food uneaten on a plate (and sometimes anyone elses). My parents made me feel so guilty for those starving in Africa although my now rational self tells me that if I leave a bit of food on my plate it makes absolutely no difference to those starving as they don’t benefit from it any way what so ever.

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We took the dogs to a cafe in the hinterland for lunch as well. Bundy had surgery this week to have a mole cut off and he hasn’t quite come back to normal walking so we thought we’d give them an outing. Everyone had their dogs at the table set out under the giant fig tree. Bundy was the only one who was safe from the figs as they plopped off quite regularly. Luckily I missed being hit but Roger copped one on the top of his head – ouch.

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If we were having coffee I’d tell you that we have had the NBN connected. This is Australia’s fast broadband network that probably gives us speeds that the rest of the world would laugh at. I was happy with my new speed of 22mb/sec but Roger’s was lower than he was getting before. This led to a major reshuffle of where the modem lived which meant new power points, shelves, finding other places to have the stuff that was on top of the sideboard and lots of swear words. We finally have successfully got it up and running with both of us being happy. Long may that last. The telecom companies are selling the amount of bandwidth they have to more people than can fit on it (they have to cover their costs and it is expensive for them to buy). They are banking on the fact that not everyone is on all the time but if they are the speeds will drop. The government is hoping to sell the NBN to private industry but as it is already outdated technology we wonder who will buy it.  A huge white elephant in the making.

I have spent the part of the week where I have not been eating or drinking coffee or doing NBN stuff, doing what I do most weeks of late  – a little gardening, a fair amount of blogging, a little writing and a lot of thinking about writing and publishing, only a little reading. I have made a discovery that for me reading a non-fiction book takes approximately three times as long to read as a fiction of the same length. I think it is because there is possibly less flow to the story. Now I am aware of this I will try and work out exactly why this happens. Do you find the same?

Now it is your turn. How was your week? Has your weather been warmer/colder, wetter/drier. Have you read any good books or seen any good films?  Thank you for dropping in for coffee, it is lovely to see you. As we don’t have a host at the moment if anyone wants to leave a link to their coffee share please feel free to do so.

2 November 2017

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Eton Beach Efate: Silent Sunday

Eton Beach at dusk. Time for a refreshing swim

© irene waters 2017

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Testing his skill: Three Line Tales week 92

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photo by gn dim via Unsplash

The audience’s flickering lanterns bled into the stage and starlit night beyond. When the women arrived silence fell. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, allowing them to walk unimpeded to the stage. Anger erupted when it became apparent the shadows had played tricks. Merv, the lighting man, clapped his hands with glee.

Thank you Sonya for hosting Three line Tales.

Posted in creative writing, fiction, flash fiction | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Peek in the Dordogne: Weekly Photo Challenge

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Our first peek into a time 12,000 – 30,000 years ago when paleolithic man roamed the hills and lived in the caves we can see in the limestone cliffs we are looking at.

 

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As we explored the countryside we came across mediaeval villages built into the side of the cliffs. We didn’t find any opportunity to see inside one of these dwellings and I wonder whether they too utilised the caves as rooms.

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Lascaux caves was our destination. Roger had visited it before it had been closed to the public and was none too keen to visit Lascaux II which had been set up to show the public what the original Lascaux was like. Instead we continued driving until we arrived at Castanets.

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This was the site of a current archeological dig but a Frenchman gave the rare person that arrived at the site a tour. We were the only people on the tour and the guide could only speak French. With my schoolgirl French and my knowledge of rocks from university geology and paleolithic man from reading Clan of the Cave Bear books, I interpreted for Roger.

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The paintings were none too clear and at times I had to use my imagination. The end result was a lot of laughing and a brief peek at what it must have been like living in this cave system in the South of France.

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The Paleolithic man made and used tools from stone, wood and bone as well as weapons for survival. They lived in communities and posted lookouts along the cliffs which would alert the main community should there be an impending attack. Mainly they hunted animals for meat and fur (for warmth) and gathered food, firewood.

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There is a huge movement in Australia at least to return to the way of these men. Having had a glimpse into their life – I think I’ll opt for the modern living with hopefully a healthy diet.

In response to weekly Photo challenge

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Skywatch Friday: 3rd November 2017 Noosaville 4.28 pm

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Perfect temperature, perfect mix of sky and cloud, perfect day

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but on Wednesday 1st November a cloud of smoke appeared. The fire was burning bushland very close to habited areas but luckily it was contained fairly quickly  but kept burning within its containment lines way after sunset.

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In response to skywatch Friday where skies can be seen from round the world.

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Alone: Friday Fictioneers

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photo prompt @ Sarah Ann Hall

His presence was everywhere. Picking up a candlestick Blanche remembered that holiday to France fifty years ago. Robert had bought one in every town they stayed. “We’ll remember the night we conceived with one of these” he had laughed when she told him they had bought enough memories. Now she couldn’t have enough memories. 

Struggling for breath she moved slowly to the next room. She sat, leaning her head on his desk. “Why did you go?” she yelled as the blotting paper gave her a whiff of his lingering smell.  His pill bottle came into focus. “I’m coming love.”

Thank you to our host of Friday Fictioneers Rochelle  and Sarah Hall for the prompt photo.

 

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My Blooming Garden 1: Floral Friday

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