It is 8am. I am sweating over my ironing board. My bed has disappeared beneath a mountain of clothes. What do I wear?
This is my main concern on the morning of Thursday July 4.
No, I am not trying trying to impress my neighbours at the polling station.
But I do want to look the part at the races in Perth.
That’s right…. I am off to the races!
It is the annual Horizon Parking Summer Raceday at Perth Racecourse – the first of two fixtures in July.
Having never been to the races before, I have no idea what to expect.
I am also aware that horse racing is a controversial sport. Animal welfare charity Peta UK claim that 200 horses die every year on British racecourses.
And that bothers me.
So it’s with mixed feelings that I head to Perth.
Why aren’t these glammed up racegoers at work on a Thursday?
There is a sense of excitement in the air as I join those queueing to enter the racecourse.
I can’t help but wonder why these glammed up folk – most of them in their 20s and 30s – are not at work.
This becomes clear when I learn, through a bit of eavesdropping, that many of them are here on a corporate day out. Hospitality included. Fun!
They are dressed to the nines: the women in long gowns, high heels and fancy headpieces; the men in crisp shirts, shiny brogues and suave sunglasses.
A large chunk of the crowd, dressed more modestly in padded jackets and wellies, is also of retirement age.
So, I’m in.
Although the races have yet to start, the venue is filling up fast as coach after coach of spectators are deposited.
I am also excited to enter into the world of gambling for the first time.
Inside, I tentatively approach the Tote betting stand. I have heard this is a ‘good’ one.
On the advice of a friend, I ask the betting man if I can bet both ways on a horse.
This means making two bets at the same time: one for the horse to win, and another for it to place.
“Do you mean each way?” He asks patiently.
Oh god.
I give gambling a go at the Perth races
“Yes, each way please.”
“On what horse?”
I stare up at a nearby TV screen, which lists the 12 horses running in the first race of the day.
“Ummmm.”
There is a fast-growing queue of punters behind me, and a waving fistful of cash which is getting uncomfortably close to my face.
“You pick for me, please,” I say.
He presses some buttons, charges me £4 and hands me a ticket. “Don’t lose that”.
I look at the ticket. Apparently I’m betting on 10 Bishop Hill.
The race is in 20 minutes, at 2.18pm, which means that the competing horses will be warming up at the Parade Box right about now.
Keen to lay my eyes on 10 Bishop Hill, this is where I head.
Pressing up against the white picket fence, I watch as the racehorses are indeed paraded around by their grooms.
And then I see 10 Bishop Hill! She is beautiful! Tall with chestnut brown hair! Impossibly shiny!
Time for the first race
A commentator announces that 10 Bishop Hill is the best turned out horse, which means her groom has won £50 in cash.
I feel a surge of pride. This feels like a good sign. I am about to become a Very Rich Woman.
A bell rings out and the jockeys, who appeared a few moments earlier, are now asked to mount their horses.
The first race is imminent.
It is cold and windy as I join the crowds at the stand.
“Good afternoon everyone,” the commentator says. “Two minutes to race”.
It’s raining now. I’m freezing. I should have brought a warmer jacket. Why am I wearing linen?
Then the people around me are whistling and cheering, shouting and clapping.
The horses are off!
They thunder past the stand and into the distance, soon out of sight.
It is a two-mile race, most of which we watch on the big screen.
The crowd goes quiet for a while: concentrating, listening to the commentary, scribbling in their notebooks.
And then the thunder grows louder as the horses circle back – they must be going around 40mph – and approach the finish line.
The crowd grows louder too.
Woo hoo!
Go on..!
COME ON.
YES!
10 Bishop Hill is leading the way! She is going to win!
Wow, this is exhilarating.
But as the horses cross the finish line, I realise I am mistaken.
“And the winner is 2 Luckie Seven!” The commentator announces.
No..!
10 Bishop Hill has come in second place.
She has been robbed – as have I.
But maybe I have still won something? I did bet each way after all.
Is it enough so that I can finally afford to get my kitchen renovated?
How much money did I win at the Perth races?
It turns out I have made £2.20.
Or rather, considering my ticket was £4, I have only made a loss of £1.80.
Still, it is better than nothing.
I place another bet on the next race and lose it all on 2 Dalileo.
Oh well.
What side of the high jump fence do I sit on when it comes to the races?
As I leave the racecourse and climb into my car, relishing the warmth, I reflect on my day.
It has been one of risk-taking, anticipation and excitement.
Annoyingly, this makes it slightly harder for me to remain on my high horse when it comes to the question of ethics in horseracing.
But there’s no denying I feel a little bit… icky.
How can I be sure that the horses I was cheering for today weren’t suffering for my entertainment?
I can’t.
So for the sake of my conscience, and my purse strings (I could have bought a second non-alcoholic Magners with that £3.80) I probably won’t make a habit of going to the races. Nonetheless, I now understand why so many people do.
Conversation