The Doggies

After M and I sold our business, we made good on our long-threatened outing to the greyhound races. 

Why, I hear you all chorus and yes, good question. Always ones to get amongst it, we'd had some dealings with the sport's peak and felt we should expand our horizons.

The greyhounds, as I'm sure you know, get a pretty bad wrap - often referred to as  the 'dish lickers', the races have been described as perfect for those with a very short attention span, because unlike horses, they run for seconds rather than minutes. They also had a highly explosive enquiry by the NSW government that led to the entire industry being momentarily banned - before it was realised how many people it employs - so was reinstated with some stricter controls.

So when M said she and the other ladies from the office were going for a Wednesday lunch, I was there in a shot! Actually, that's not true at all, as the venue is in an outer suburb so I was there in about an hour, fifteen.

The first thing that struck us was that although the venue was a scaled down version of the horse races, with manicured gardens, clean and tidy grounds, and newly refurbished interior, the people were a lot more casual in their attire. There was a table of people with special needs having a fabulous time and pretty much everyone else was in hi-viz. We, on the other hand, were in our usually 'creative corporate wear', with some extreme fashion, spiked heels and full make up. We didn't blend in.

This is the actual venue 

The first challenge was drinks. Apparently wine isn't usually purchased by the bottle (there were five of us) and establishing a price to charge for the entire thing was a bit of a challenge. Once that had been established the next hurdle was the 'no glass' rule - yes, at lunchtime on a Wednesday. We were issued with plastic glasses while our bottle was held behind the bar - for the safety of everyone - and we had to trot over to get a refill as required. Luckily this was a mid-week lunch, so that wasn't often!

Lunch itself was a bain-marie affair of tandoori chicken, rice and veg. The ladies serving, who also ran the bar, were just delightful - and very generous, so we literally had to beg them to hold back on the man-sized portions of chicken and rice, and up the steamed veg which most people seemed to think was a garnish. The meal, we all agreed, was very tasty! And at less than $15, excellent value.

Back to the main event - the races. We thought to really experience the thrill, we needed a bet - and liked the sound of a 'quaddy'. Having studied the form guide one of our number, a single gal, insisted she couldn't go past 'Empty Box' as that had been her plight for quite a while. We all contributed our gold coins and M nominated one of the  girls to place the bet.  I don't know how, the selected one claimed in panic. None of us do, explained M, just ask at the betting desk. They'll explain it as they want our $14.

Off she went and minutes later, returned looking flustered. Well that was embarrassing, she reported. Apparently 'Empty Box' was not the name of a dog, but the status of the starting box - as in it's empty and there is no dog. Bet you didn't know that!!!

Back to the form guide to select another. I think we collected but if we did, we put it on another race and that was the end of our collective pool of funds.

So for the sum total of about $24.50 each, we had a great time before we waved goodbye to our hostesses and headed back to town.

Winner, winner...

So - here we are in week whatever of iso. I first lost track of the days, now I've lost track of the weeks - months will be next.

Like many people, we've used the time to get around to jobs that have been on the backburner for goodness-knows how long. One such task was taking a random collection of lotto tickets to the newsagency to see if we'd won a pile of money. You may ask why we hadn't gotten to that sooner - and frankly, it's because we felt quite comfortable delaying the disappointment and living with the remote possibility that we'd won.

We're not avid lotto people. We're not 'registered' or anything fancy like that. It's just that when there's a particularly big draw, Geoff might grab a ticket. We are well aware that the odds are more in your favour to be struck by lightning than they are of winning first division, but hey - people get struck by lightning.

Geoff and Sass were in charge of the project, arriving back to say one of the tickets was a winner, but as it was older than six months, the newsagent could neither tell us how much or pay it out. We need to contact the State Revenue Office. The excitement was palpable. Before long, the winning ticket was in an envelope, jettisoning it's way to the revealers of our fortune.

You did take a photo of the ticket before you posted it, I ask?
A couple of sheepish looks and it was clear they hadn't.
Dear god, there could be thousands of dollars riding on this and we have no idea of what the ticket number even is!!

Time passed.

Elle emailed an enquiry from Geoff's email, masquerading as his EA (she likes to do that!). No response. More recriminations regarding the lack of record that the ticket ever existed.

On Monday, I decided to open a book. $2 to guess how much we'd won (assuming it wasn't 'stolen'). Closest to the pin wins. You can tell from the picks that our initial euphoria had waned somewhat.

And finally, a letter arrived yesterday. Geoff and Sass scurried into the study to have the first peek, emerging with tears in their eyes and an edge of hysteria - I was hoping because we were now loaded.

Sadly, it wasn't to be. The sum total, which we will be receiving in the next few days is (drum roll please) -  $10.65. A hair more than the $8 sweep Geoff picked up!