Last weekend I had a double whammy of fun, as I went to Royal Ascot two days in a row. For those across the Pond, Ascot is the leading racecourse for thoroughbred horse racing and every year hosts 5 days of key races in June. Friday felt very P.G. Wodehouse as we drove down in a vintage 50s cracker of a car in British Racing Green, which was also coincidentally the colour of my dress.
True to form, the English weather was at it's most unseasonable. But I intended to stoically rise above the bracing gusts, drizzle, mud, swarms of locust. I didn't take a jacket and wore a frock that was the right side of insubstantial for the royal enclosure. However, my Siberian blood did nothing to preserve me from the elements (thanks for nothing Grandma) and I was so obviously frozen that a lovely lady insisted I take her pashmina and wrapped it around my shoulders.
The most exciting part of the day was the racing. When it comes to betting I'm a total profligate, make all the wrong calls and should not be allowed near a betting both. This occasion was no different. Luckily I'm a super-chilled loser and have got the oh well maybe next time shrug down to a fine art.