Cup Day

Given we live only a stone’s throw from Flemington (albeit on the wrong side of the river), Cup Day is usually spent dodging limos and taxis in our street and pointing lost and foot-sore punters in the direction of the train station. Many local Footscrayers pack up the card tables and camp chairs and set up a bbq down at Footscray Park where, just across the Maribyrnong, all the action takes place. From the park you get a good view of all the water traffic arriving and leaving (and place bets on how many enebriates will fall in the river!), a partial view of some of the marquees, full access to the race call over the very loud loudspeakers and can critique the (slightly worse for wear) fashions as attendees struggle back to their cars parked over our side of town. It’s quite sociable. But not today. Most of the afternoon the rain poured down. There was not a card table in sight during my afternoon amble around the park with the dog. We looked on through a mist of rain, then climbed Footscray Hill to look down on things from a height. Still raining we wandered home – my sympathies going to the poor cabbie who had to stop his taxi a number of times going up the hill to allow his passenger to dash out and throw up liberally. Charming.