The day before we had planned to go to Ascot for Tim’s 30th the paper ran the headline ‘It's Royal Bash-cot’ as a group of folk got over excited and started a fight; plastic tables and chairs flying everywhere. In a similar vein when we arrived for the Saturday races the atmosphere didn’t have that quintessentially British, aristocratic, la di da feeling that I thought it would be. Although the vast majority had dressed up for the occasion seeing some people in jeans and t-shirts didn’t quite match up with my allusions to a regal day out, although having said that a sprinkling of royal fairy dust was created when the Queen rode past waving from her horse and carriage, making for a highlight of the day.
I bet and lost and bet and lost as the bookie’s humoured my £2 to £5 bets. Some of our group got some nice wins and pocketed the winnings, resisting the urge to bet again. In all in, it’s just about the perfect excuse to indulge in an all day drinking session by getting all dressed up, taking a picnic and sipping fizzy wine before battling the masses onto the train platform to squeeze onto the sardine sized tin trains.
But before the night was through for Tim’s 30th I was introduced for the first time to the infamous swan bar and club – which was adeptly described as being like a students union full with people long past their student glory days but seemingly trying to relive their memories by drowning in snake bite black – can’t beat them, join them in rapturous sing-a-longs; ‘I am the one and only’.
And with a suitable snake bite hangover the next morning I went and did what no one should do on a hangover - and that is go shopping – about an hour or so later my bank balance had plummeted as I gleefully came out clutching a pair of inline skates with all the necessary padding. You can’t say I’m not committed to my Kieran I want list…as roller skating to work is most definitely on my list. Now all I need is to learn how to use them and not slice myself open.