Race Day

I’m not fussed about the Melbourne Cup. I only went to see it once when I was in Melbourne, and only then because I was already living in Flemington – it seemed rude not to slap on my hat and waddle 100m down to the track to watch it in person.

I did catch it on the radio today. I had driven around to the other side of the pit from where the office is, to the West side where the truck drivers sit around in between times, smoking and flicking through FHM. There’s not much over there, just dirt and flies and huge machinery and picnic tables in the 40° sun, so I went directly into the crib hut to see a bloke about the whatsaname, and when I came out, my car was full of miners! About five of them had zoomed in there like flies; they were sitting in silence with the aircon and the race turned up on full. I sat in there and listened with them, but without much interest as I hadn’t even entered the sweep. It cost $50 to enter – and who’s got $50 to throw away on some horse that runs slow? Oh, miners do. People who get paid sh*tloads to work out in the middle of nowhere, that’s who.