Yesterday I was rudely woken up in the morning by persistent doorbell ringing. Well, not so rudely, really: a wonderful arrangement of flowers faced me when I opened the door. More little surprises followed on my birthday, some of them pleasant (and almost invariably originating from Jod), some of them quite unpleasant (and all of them originating from others).
I am not the kind of guy who normally suffers from birthday blues and I had never felt any until the year before last. I actually used to truly enjoy my birthday, as it is all about me, me, me. The last two years’ mildly melancholic birthdays, I can vouch for that, are a result of external factors only.
Today was not much better. Then Tot invited us to the Capital racetrack to watch her horse’s first ever race. A first for me. Although my first reaction was “what?”, we went.
A diverse crowd among the spectators: posh members of the Club, families, dodgy-looking fellows (in packs or coupled with Slavic-looking women), old ladies, youths with a shower long overdue. One could tell rich families from not-so-rich ones by the state of the wives’ hairdo.
As a guest of an owner’s, I visited the stables before the race and was impressed by the casual shitting horses are capable of but also, seriously now, by their splendour and grace and beauty. Indeed they are magnificent animals, as imposing and majestic as no carnivore could ever dream to be.
Then the race started and everybody was tense.
In the end, our horse came fourth — although it would have taken it only another 50 metres to come third. Anyway, I didn’t mind the 15 euro I bet on it, it was great entertainment.
Before parting for tonight, two more pictures from this realm of absurdity
and urban neglect
I live in.