Back in the 90s Garbage sang 'A Hammering In My Head' and the boys working in the next door apartment took that pretty literally this morning. At bloody 7.30am. Running a road test for every available pneumatic drill in NSW it seems. I bet the dismantling of the Berlin Wall didn't take as much punishment. And it's all for a bathroom refit! So get up, get up you lazy slouch and get on with the day. But oops; it's raining out there. This isn't meant to be, it's Oz! Des, the Residential Services Front Of House Executive (Concierge to you and me) has a crafty answer to my typical Brit chat about the weather. Is it going to stay like this all day? 'Ah it's summer, mate. It doesn't usually rain for two days here'. So that's a 'Yes' then. AND IT'S MELBOURNE CUP DAY. This place goes bonkers for it. Anyone who's not there already won't be working, and certainly not after noon. It's even a public holiday in Victoria - a true religious hajj to the Mecca of the racetrack. Here in Sydney every plush restaurant, every hotel, bar, bistro, yacht, marquee, garden shed and hobo shack is rammed with punters for the Melbourne Cup jamboree. Lunch is typically champagne, caviar, blinis, fish/steak, Eton Mess, strawberries and er.. more champagne. It's proper Carnival time with just everyone in their finest race day outfits. Sydney gathers it's narcissistic skirts; high heels and summer frocks with the best hat or fascinators de rigeur for the ladies. Suits essential for the gentleman though top hat and tails won't be out of the question, sir. And it's a proper party. There'll be some sore nappers tomorrow. We meet in a huge casino, The Star, it's like something out of Vegas. Grab beers, scour the form guide, take a punt. Like true amateurs we follow the silks, the names which take our fancy. Gareth bets on Frankie Dettori, over for the ride. I'm impressed by an early runner which delights in the moniker, 'Aarrrgh' - the commentators cry, "Aarrrgh he's finished last" appeals. Like a true funfair there are men on stilts dressed as jockeys, ladies like some Moulin Rouge CanCan dancers, jugglers and dancing bears. The groundswell is amazing as we approach witching hour at 3.00pm for The Great Off. Then Bang! They're away! Unlike here, Melbourne is bathed in sunshine with the going good. Diane's massive outside bet leads for three quarters of the race. The favourite is nowhere. Then, like a ghost, Prince of Penzance sails through the melee and wins quite easily. For us punters that just wasn't in the script. A 65-1 no-hoper? A female jockey? The post-race atmosphere is slightly subdued albeit the bookies are dancing jigs. Bonanza time for them. We did between us get 2nd and 3rd but in true male bravado had refused to put on an each-way bet. But what a great afternoon. A couple more beers, a punt on the roulette, a spot of late lunch then back to the apartment past Darling Harbour now littered with babbling drunken wrecks, a hat carelessly abandoned here and there, oddly, one shoe, yet the party is still on. Brilliant.
Then back to meet our kind hosts at a fabulous Italian restaurant in Glebe Point. Ombretta boasts specialita regionali, and tonight it's dishes from Emiglia Romagna. Spaghetti both plain and sepia coloured with piccante kingfish. Gnocchi ragu. Mozzarella to die for. Slow cooked lamb. Then pannacotta flavoured with grappa and topped with strawberry coulis. Chocolate and caramel torta with home-made ice cream. Kahlua and coffee ice. Amazing. Thank you so much Gerry, Carrie and Gareth for inviting us to stay with you and showing us round so much of this lovely city. We'll see you at home again soon.
