Imagine the scene if you will. Bath's glitterati are assembled to join the celebrations. Men and women in their finest garb, women in hats and heels, bookmakers lining the rails. There is hubbub and excitement, after all, this is ladies day.
In the stable block a stable lass, Ellie, is preparing her charge for the next race. She has washed and brushed, checked the legs and flanks, nuzzled her and talked to her in the calming way that always helps, for this is a fiery beast who senses the excitement of the race track and knows the cmpetition to which she was born, for which she was bred, is about to begin.
Ellie selects the bridle, ensures it is oiled and gleaming, anxious her's would be the finest in the parade ring. She begins to feed the bit into the lovely mouth.
'Christ, Ellie, cant that wait for a few minutes? I want another cigarette before the off.'
'Now don't be awkward, Miss, you know you have to wear the bridle for the parade. It wouldn't be proper otherwise. And smoking's bad for your wind.'
Reluctantly, she accepted the bit and stamped her feet, eyes wide with anticipation as she was led out and joined all the other ladies ready for the big race. Her tail swished and she pulled anxiously at the rein. 'Its awfery ifficul to spea with one's mouth ull.'
Ladies day - what a thought!
3 comments:
Looks like another interesting series in the making, Mons. Welcome back and thank you for sharing this with us.
Oooo, lovely tail.
Mons you are incorrigible!
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