We had an absolutely lovely Saturday. #1’s mate J is staying for the weekend and he’s a lovely lad, so after a leisurely morning complete with pancakes, bacon and maple syrup, we popped to my fave hotel for a late lunch (cricket ball burger anyone?) and a gawp at a wedding party (purple bridesmaids and a corset when you are flat chested suit no bride, but I kept my malevolent thoughts to myself, natch). Later we poshed ourselves up and headed up to the doggy stadium for J’s leaving do. Now the stadium restaurant is closed as they’re building an enormous all-weather horse racing track there and enlarging the facilities. This initially caused the disgustingly snobby #1 some concern: ‘what, you mean we have to go downstairs with the normal people?’ but he soon cheered up when he saw J’s little C and a host of other kids, and soon disappeared from view.
Well, the world and his brother think very highly of J&C and she was smothered in kisses, compliments, flowers and gifts, which brought a tear to her eye several times. We got to go and see C for a behind-the-scenes shuftee in the weigh room, which I enjoyed (until I put my drink down and someone spilt it all over his paperwork - oops). Then it was back to the bar. J gave little C, #2, #1 and his mate J 5 Euro each to have a little play on the tote, and later on I did the same, thinking in a sensible, parently manner that it gave them a Euro to put on each of the ten remaining races. It wasn’t long, however, before #2 came back clutching a handful of notes (hmmm…that boy has the luck of the devil). One of our friends is a trainer who had a few dogs running, and we were introduced to other trainers so, obviously, we had to put a few quid on their greyhounds too. Long story short and by the end of the evening all three boys were 100 euro up and I’d got exactly the same amount in my purse that I came with.
I’m not sure whether this is such a good thing. I’m too much of a scaredy dog to have any chance at ever becoming addicted to anything. Take smoking, for example, yes I used to smoke but one comment was enough to make me give up and never smoke again. Likewise with betting, I don’t mind putting a bet on for fun but there’s no way I could ever get addicted. #2 on the other hand had that mad sparkle in his eyes which belongs solely to small boys clutching a handful of cash. So I had to do the motherly thing and remind him of our upper bet limit and explain that yes, it’s a fun evening once in a while, but dogs don’t always win races and that betting on every one will leave you with empty pockets at the end of an evening. Luckily, they listened sagely to our trainer friend, M, when he explained that no, he didn’t routinely bet on the greyhounds he trained as he of all people knew they didn’t always win and that he would likely end up a very poor person.
The evening was rounded off with big hugs for J and the boys were hugely excited to find M the trainer still outside with his dogs, so they got to have a stroke of the winning dog (who was very waggy and proud of himself) before falling soundly asleep in the back of the car 5 minutes after leaving the stadium. I’ll miss J, and I feel strangely comforted by the fact that I’m not the only one. We’re planning an action-packed girly weekend to London before Christmas though, so we’ve got that to look forward to. Next I’m going to teach her to say ‘innit’.